Chapter 17

Six days after meeting Treya—and fighting the red-eyed men—the group reached Four Roads, a town of thirty-thousand people in the middle of the free lands, halfway between Tyrsall and Telfort.

They’d met Jak’s caravan along the way, which was heading back east carrying wheat from the beginning of the harvest season. The caravan had been accompanied by dozens of farmers hauling their own, hoping for better prices in Dalewood or Tyrsall than they could get in Four Roads. As Corec had expected, Jak hadn’t been happy with him. He’d been even less happy when Corec had explained that he wasn’t sure how long it would be before he returned.

If Corec missed a few more runs, would Jak even let him continue working the caravan? Four Roads was home, of a sort, and Jak’s caravan was the best option for getting back there regularly. If Corec lost that run, he’d either have to leave Four Roads or work his way up through another trading house, perhaps one operating out of Larso.

That would be a problem for another day.

Bringing everyone to a halt, he said, “The boarding house I stay at won’t have enough rooms for everyone. We’ll need to find an inn.”

“I’ll be at the Three Orders chapter house,” Treya said. “Are you still planning to leave tomorrow?”

“Yes, if I can do everything I need to do today. I know where the chapter house is. We can meet you there tomorrow morning, or if something changes our plans, I’ll stop by and leave a message for you tonight. If you need to reach us, I’ll try to find rooms at the Eagle’s Roost. If we’re not there, check the other inns nearby.”

She nodded at him expressionlessly. While she was friendly with the others, she never spoke to Corec unless she had to. Her rune hadn’t appeared yet, but as the itching continued, she’d made it clear that she resented him for what was happening, so he gave her the space she wanted. He still hoped to find a solution to their problem, and in the meantime, he’d asked Bobo to handle most of their interactions with other people, in case that would keep it from happening again.

Treya exchanged a quick smile with Katrin before turning her new horse to the north. For the first couple days after she’d joined them, they’d had to rig up a way for her to ride the pack mule, after they’d distributed the supplies among the other mounts. On the third day, they’d come across a farmer willing to part with a horse. Cricket was a bay gelding, even older than Rose, and had spent more time pulling a plow than being ridden, but with help from Shavala, the horse was slowly getting used to life on the road.

Treya finished grooming Cricket in the chapter house’s stable, trying not to scratch at her forehead while she worked—and trying to ignore what her traveling companions had told her.

In a different situation, she would have been glad to meet the group. Katrin was already becoming a friend, and Bobo, as pompous as he sometimes was, was still fun to talk to. It always took him by surprise when Treya knew more about a topic than he did. Shavala was harder to read since she didn’t speak much, but she’d been helpful with Cricket.

Corec was the problem. Looking at him through a concubine’s eyes, he was a catch—the third son of a baron, young, and somewhat attractive. Ignoring the fact that he didn’t have enough money to hire a concubine, if he’d come in for a Presentation ceremony, most of the girls in the lineup would have been hoping to be picked.

But if he was responsible for placing some sort of spell on her against her will, she didn’t think she could forgive him. And he believed he was the person responsible, though he claimed to not know how it was happening. Katrin was resigned to the situation, and Shavala didn’t seem to care one way or another, but Treya didn’t think she could be so accepting.

She could tolerate him long enough to find out what was going on, though. She was supposed to be journeying, and Four Roads had been the only destination she’d had in mind. Once she was done there, any direction was as good as another, so she’d accompany them to see if there was any way to undo the binding spell. Her own magic couldn’t help, but perhaps her friends back in Tyrsall would have a solution.

When Treya entered the front hall of the chapter house, a young girl came over and glanced at her clothing with an uncertain look.

“Can I help you ... Sister?”

“Sister Treya, and yes, I’d like to speak to Mother Yewen if she’s available.”

“I’ll go ask,” the girl said, and scampered off.

“Treya?” a young woman asked as she passed through the hall. “Is that you?”

Treya looked at her closely—the plain face, the brown hair pulled back in a tight braid, the curves that were a little too generous. “Nallee?”

“Yes!”

The two girls hugged tightly. Treya hadn’t seen her friend in six years, though they’d sent letters back and forth in the beginning.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Nallee asked. “Where are your shoes?”

“Don’t you remember Shana?”

“No, but I know who she is. You’re a mystic? I always thought you’d be a concubine.”

“I’m a mystic,” Treya confirmed. “I graduated, so they set me loose. What about you?”

“Oh, gee, so I have to call you Sister Treya now?” Nallee said with a grin.

“No, don’t be silly.”

“That’s the bad thing about the Order of Concubines. I won’t be a Sister until I’m chosen, or if I give up on the Presentation ceremonies and become a teacher instead.”

Treya wasn’t sure how to respond. Nallee was a couple years older than her, probably twenty now, which was later than most concubines were chosen.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Nallee said. “I get it enough from the other girls.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Besides, I’ve been talking to a nice young man. Patrig; he works at the smithy down the street. He’s finished his apprenticeship, and he’s been saving up enough money to open his own place in the village he was born, a little south of here. There isn’t any blacksmith there yet, and he’s going to take me with him when he goes. I’ll help him keep his books. He can’t afford to pay very much for me, but nobody else is interested. I’ve just always wanted to be a concubine.”

It was a problem endemic to the Three Orders. All the girls were taught from a young age how glamorous it was to be a concubine, and most considered the Order of Scholars to be a step down. Not all the girls made good concubine candidates, though, and it was sometimes hard to give up the dream. Privately, Treya thought the early lessons should place more emphasis on the mystics and the Sisters who belonged to no order at all—midwives and herbalists and others.

“I’m happy for you and your blacksmith,” Treya said with a smile. “Is he married?”

“No, but there’s a girl back home he’s been talking to.” Then Nallee grinned and added, “I think I’ll probably be with him first, so she’ll have to get used to me.”

Treya laughed. Usually men were married before they sought out a concubine, so the girls were given classes on how to adapt to living in another woman’s household. It was rare for the order to be reversed, and it sounded like Nallee intended to take advantage of it. Most blacksmiths couldn’t afford concubines, and didn’t have the prestige to attract one, but Treya wasn’t going to say anything to dampen Nallee’s enthusiasm.

The girl from earlier returned and pointed in the direction of Mother Yewen’s office. She didn’t speak, probably not wanting to interrupt a Sister and a senior student.

Treya held up a finger to indicate she’d be along shortly. “Is anyone else here that I’d know?” she asked Nallee.

“Uh, the younger girls, of course, if you remember any of them. From the ones you were friends with, I think the concubines have been chosen already, except me, and the scholars have all been given assignments elsewhere—mostly teachers in the villages. Well, Liese stayed here to take over the bookkeeping.”

“I’ll have to talk to her before I leave. And I’ll look for you again, but I should go speak with Mother Yewen now.”

They said their farewells, and Treya let the girl lead her to Mother Yewen’s office, though she remembered the way.

The gray-haired woman had always seemed ancient to Treya, but she didn’t look any older now than she had eight years ago, when they’d last met.

Mother Yewen said, “Cara, go find one of the older girls and ask her to prepare a room for Sister Treya.” She turned to Treya. “That is, if you’re staying?”

“Yes, at least for tonight. Thank you.”

After Cara had left, Yewen spoke again. “Treya, dear, it’s good to see you. Ola’s kept me apprised of your progress. She was quite annoyed when you chose the mystics—I take it from your clothing, you’ve completed the training?”

“Yes, Mother Yewen.”

“I’m proud of you, child. I was a mystic, too, for a few years, but then I broke my hip. Promise me you’ll be careful. It can be a dangerous life.”

“I’ll be careful, Mother Yewen. Is that ... why you sent me to Tyrsall?” Treya had never quite forgiven Yewen for sending her away from her friends at Four Roads.

Yewen sighed. “Regardless of what you wanted to do, Tyrsall offered more options. Four Roads is the smallest chapter house in the Orders, and we had too many orphans from those raiders. Those were some bad years, until Sister Shana took care of the group here, and the knights crossed the border and eliminated the rest. There simply aren’t that many men around here looking for concubines, and I wasn’t sure that was the life you wanted for yourself. You aren’t the only one I sent away, but I sent you to Tyrsall because it offered the most opportunities. You could be a concubine to rival any other in the city, or you could choose a different path.”

Treya nodded, setting aside some of the anger from her younger years. She’d known, intellectually, that Yewen had thought she’d had Treya’s best interests at heart, but hearing the reasoning helped. “Thank you.”

“What brings you back to Four Roads?”

“I’ve started my journeying, but I didn’t have anywhere particular I needed to be, so I thought I’d come home first.”

“You’ve been to see the farm, then?” Yewen asked gently.

“I’m not sure I could find it,” Treya said, looking down at the floor, “and if I did, I’m not sure I’d recognize it. It’s been twelve years, and the cabin burned down.”

“We can look through the records to locate it, if you want. I’ve heard that all the farms that ... suffered in the raids have new owners now. It might do you some good to see new life there.”

Treya shook her head. “I think it’s at least three days away. It always took Papa a long time to come back home when he had to go to town. Perhaps if I ever need to head west I could stop by, since it wouldn’t be as far out of my way, but for now, I’m traveling with a group that’s heading back east tomorrow.”

“You’ve found some friends, then?”

“Traveling companions, at least.”

Yewen smiled. “My journeying years, as few and as difficult as they were, are some of my fondest memories. The mystics remind us that our world is larger than our chapter house. Are you going to stay with the Order permanently? Ola is quite certain you could be chosen by a duke or a prince, even now. As long as you put on some shoes before the Presentation ceremony.”

Treya laughed. “You were right earlier. I don’t think a concubine’s life is the life for me.”

“I can understand that. While I’ve got you here, do you know where I can find Shana? A drake has been nesting north of town, killing sheep. It’s still young, but the mayor wants it taken care of before it learns to breathe fire. He’s planning to offer twenty-five gold to some of the mercenaries that have been coming through town if they can kill it, but I’m worried they’ll get themselves killed instead. If you know where she is, I can send a message through the pigeon service.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Treya said. “I could try to find the drake.”

“Absolutely not!” Yewen said. “Shana’s killed a drake before. I’m not sending a brand new graduate after one.”

“I didn’t mean by myself. I’m traveling with some people who could help.”

That was overstating things, since Katrin and Bobo weren’t fighters, but as far as Treya knew, if the drake was young enough, Corec with his plate armor would be well protected. Twenty-five gold would go a long way toward hiring the other wizard he’d mentioned, in case Treya’s priest friends weren’t able to help with the binding runes.

“You want all of it?” Daffyd asked.

“Yes,” Corec told the moneylender. “Some things have come up and I need the coin.”

Daffyd blew his breath out through his pursed lips. “That much in one day is going to put me in a tough spot. Are you sure you need it all?”

“It can’t be that bad, Daff. I’m sure the shopkeepers’ and innkeepers’ accounts are bigger than mine.”

“True, true, but I’ve got most of the deposits loaned out, and the rest is stored somewhere safe. Withdrawing your entire account will take most of what I keep on hand.”

“I can return tomorrow.”

“No, no. You’re here now. Let’s check the books.” Daffyd looked behind the counter and pulled up the ledgers he used to track deposits and withdrawals. “Let’s see ... your last visit, you deposited one gold exactly, and then we have last quarter’s interest earnings of fifteen silver, three copper, bringing your total to thirty-eight gold, four silver, seven copper.”

“Really?” It was more than Corec had expected, bringing him to forty-five gold total if he included the coin in his belt pouches.

“It adds up,” Daffyd replied. “I don’t think you checked the balance the last few times you dropped by.” Then, he warned, “I’ll have to give you half of that in platinum.”

Some shops didn’t take platinum, since it was hard for them to make change.

“That’s fine.”

“I hope you’ll bring your business back to me when you can. All deposits are now stored under mage locks—I bought a couple spells from a wizard who passed through, so I’m the only one who can open the safes.”

“I’ll be away from Four Roads for a while, but I’ll be back when I can,” Corec said.

After leaving the moneylender, his next stop was at the boarding house.

“Corec, dear!” Mama Wenna exclaimed. She was a portly woman in her fifties who’d opened her house to lodgers after her children had moved out and her husband had passed away. “You didn’t come with the caravan!”

“Sorry, Mama Wenna. I got delayed. How have you been?”

“Karl visited with his wife, and they brought the baby. It’s a boy!”

“Congratulations. Should I call you Grandmama Wenna now?”

“Don’t you dare! Supper tonight is stew and fresh bread. It’ll just be you and Adar. Lanz decided to move in with his lady friend, so he gave up his lodgings here.”

Corec was conflicted. Wenna made a good stew, but he hadn’t intended to be away from the inn for that long. Deciding his companions didn’t need his help to eat, he said, “That sounds good, but I’ll have to leave afterward. I’m traveling with some friends—more than you have room for—so we’re staying at an inn.”

“Friends?” Wenna asked. “That’s good to hear. You’ve never mentioned any friends before.”

“I’m still getting used to the idea,” Corec admitted. “We’re heading to Circle Bay for a while, so I don’t know when I’ll back again.”

She sighed. “Are you sure you want to keep your room? You’re hardly ever here anymore. I could put your things in storage. It’d be much cheaper.”

“I’ll keep my room, at least for now. If the caravans stop running this winter, I’ll need somewhere to live.”

Wenna nodded. “Oh, that reminds me, a letter arrived from your father a few weeks ago. I left it on your bed.”

“Thanks. I suppose I should go see what he has to say.”

In his small room, Corec looked over his belongings. His tent and extra blankets were already laid out on the bed, ready to go for when the weather turned, so he decided to take them back to the inn with him. They would need tents for everyone soon, but the prices would be better in Tyrsall.

There was a chest at the foot of the bed which held documents and extra clothing, but nothing he’d need to bring with him. A spare greatsword was propped up in the corner of the room, wrapped in cloth, and there was an extra chain shirt rolled up and stored under the bed, but he decided not to bring those, either.

After he’d delayed as long as he could, he turned to the letter that was resting on the foot of the bed. He never knew what to expect from his family. Only Branth treated him like before. Toman had done his best to ignore Corec for the past six years, and Isabel always urged him to give up magic and return home. In letters, Ansel was polite, pretending that nothing was wrong, but his politeness only extended as far as the written word.

Corec picked up the letter and broke the wax seal.

Son,

How are you? As I write this, it is early summer. The crops have been sown, and the growing season is promising so far.