Chapter 7

Six years earlier...

Corec waved a serving girl over before taking a seat with the three other trainees. Before he could order, though, his friend Kevik stood.

“It’s on me this time,” Kevik said. “It’s your birthday.”

Corec nodded. “Thanks.”

Kevik ordered a round of ale while Trentin and Barat looked around, wide-eyed. It was the first time the two boys had accompanied them to the inn, Trentin being a bit too young at fourteen, while Barat had only recently come to Fort Hightower.

“Is it always so loud?” Trentin asked.

“Only when there are people here,” Kevik said, sitting down. “Looks like there’s a new girl, Corec. What’s her name?”

Corec looked where his friend was pointing, to see a young, brown-haired woman in a low-cut dress sitting on a shopkeeper’s lap. The man was pulling her dress up to show off her bare legs to his friends, while she laughed and pushed it back down.

“How would I know?”

“You’re the only one of us with enough money to see the girls here.”

Corec’s father sent him a generous allowance, and there wasn’t much else to spend it on.

“Well, she wasn’t here two weeks ago,” he said, “and I’ve been too busy at the fort to think lately, much less come here. Besides, if she’s new, she’ll be occupied with the knights and the merchants. She won’t have time for a trainee.”

“Is very busy here,” Barat agreed in his accented speech. “Northtower less busy in winter. No teaching outside when much snow.”

“Why’d you come here?” Corec asked.

“Master at Northtower say better teachers here. Say I learn more.”

“Corec, what was that bundle of things the wagon brought you yesterday?” Kevik asked.

“When I was home for Midwinter, my father had our armorer measure me again. The wagon brought the new set, along with Father’s sincere wishes that I don’t outgrow it this time.”

“A whole set of armor?” Trentin asked, impressed. “What kind?”

“Same as the last one,” Corec said, uncomfortable talking about his family’s wealth. The armor included a cuirass worn over a chain shirt and padding—extra padding, to give him some room to grow—plus greaves, vambraces, and a new helmet.

“That must have been expensive,” Trentin said. “Your armor’s a lot nicer than the brigandine we’ve got at the fort, and they don’t have any spares that fit me right.”

“My old chain shirt might work for you, if you add more padding underneath than you usually wear,” Corec said. “I can’t give you the cuirass, though. It’s got our family crest on it.”

“Really? Are you sure? Chainmail alone would be a big improvement.” Trentin seemed excited—a well-made set of chainmail could cost even more than a plate cuirass. And, like most of the trainees, Trentin was learning to fight with a shield, so he didn’t necessarily need the extra protection the cuirass would provide.

“Hey, if you outgrow the new set, too, maybe I could fit into it,” Kevik said jokingly.

Corec laughed. He’d just passed six feet tall himself, but Kevik was five inches taller and even broader across the shoulders. “Maybe if I stretch it out a bit first.”

The serving girl finally returned with a pitcher of ale and four mugs. Corec winked at her, remembering the nights they’d spent together. The prostitutes at Hightower Inn could be identified by the low-cut dresses they wore, designed to display their cleavage, but some of the serving girls could be had for the right price.

“Well, do you feel any different now that you’re sixteen?” Kevik asked as he took his first sip.

“No. Did you?”

“I don’t remember. I spent that night drunk. Now it’s your turn.”

Katrin waited outside the door fearfully. Unfortunately for her state of mind, she could hear the voices coming through it.

“That was her last chance,” Dallo said. “Two weeks of planning, wasted.”

“She didn’t mean to fall off the roof!” Barz said.

“You’re just lucky none of us got nicked by the constabulary. She’s fifteen years old now. If she’s not going to be one of us, then it’s time for her to start walking the streets.”

“My sister ain’t no whore!”

“You two have been taking advantage of our generosity for four years. She needs to start paying it back.”

“Let me try the bards again!” Barz pleaded. “You know she’s gifted. She could make us a lot of money!”

“You said the bardic school refused to take her because she’s a girl. She’s had enough chances, Barz, and you’re trying my patience.”

“At least let me talk to her first.”

“Fine.”

Katrin started crying.

Barz came back out the door, shutting it behind him. “Let’s go, quickly,” he whispered.

“What?” Katrin had no choice but to follow as he grabbed her wrist tightly and pulled her along.

“We’re running. They’re not happy with you. We’ve got to get you out of here.” He didn’t mention what Dallo was planning to do to her. Perhaps he didn’t realize she’d heard everything.

“Where are we going to go?”

“Do you remember Uncle Felix? He lives in Circle Bay. He’s a minstrel—maybe he can teach you to play that flute you stole.”

She stopped abruptly. “Circle Bay is six hundred miles away! And he didn’t come when Mother died.”

“Maybe he never got the letter I sent, I don’t know. I don’t have any other ideas, Katrin!” Barz tugged on her wrist and she started following him again.

The building where they lived was run by Dallo’s men, so Barz let go of her wrist and they tried to look inconspicuous as they made their way up the stairs to their room.

Once the door was closed, Katrin asked, “How are we going to get there?”

“I don’t have much money. We’ll have to walk.” Barz grabbed their rucksacks and tossed hers over. “Start packing.”

“It’s winter!”

“I know, but Circle Bay’s to the south. It’s warmer there, so it should warm up as we go. If we can make twenty miles a day, we’ll be there in a month. Maybe we can hitch a ride on a wagon sometimes.”

Twenty miles a day would be considered slow in the summer. In the winter, it might be possible if the roads stayed dry, but if it rained and the roads got muddy, they’d be lucky to make ten. She decided not to say that, though, realizing Barz was trying to sound optimistic for her sake. At least there hadn’t been much snow this winter.

Seeing her just standing there, Barz said, “Hurry up. And pack your pretty dress. If we run across a man with money, you can distract him while I pick his pocket. Maybe we can stay in inns rather than on the side of the road.”

“I can pick pockets!”

“Sometimes you can.”

She glared at him, but added her dress to the rucksack.

Finished packing, Barz peeked out their door carefully. Seeing no one on the second floor, he stepped over to the stairs and looked down. “Nobody’s looking,” he said quietly. “Let’s go.”

Nervously, Katrin slung her bag over her shoulders and picked up her brother’s, handing it to him once she reached the stairs. Barz headed down, and she followed after him.

When the first bell rang, Corec struggled to wake up. His tiny room in Fort Hightower had no external light, and in any case, it was deep winter and would still be dark out. He lay in the complete blackness, trying to gather his thoughts. Five hours just wasn’t enough sleep, especially at this time of year. At least he’d ignored Kevik’s exhortations to over-imbibe, having learned his lesson the first few times they’d visited the inn.

He swung his legs over the edge of the cot and peered around to find his clothing. Just as he’d gathered his thoughts enough to wonder why there was enough light for him to see, someone pounded on the door.

“Wake up, Corec!” Kevik shouted from the other side. “You’re going to be late again!”

“I’m coming!” he called back in a panic, after noticing the pale silver light hovering above his head. It had happened before, but he’d thought he’d gotten it under control. If anyone found out...

He concentrated and managed to dismiss the light, plunging the room back into darkness, then immediately hit his shin against the edge of the writing desk when he stood up.

“Bloody hell!” he said, grimacing in pain.

He opened the door to let in some light from the hallway, finding that Kevik had already left for the morning meal. Since it would only take a few minutes to get ready, he didn’t bother lighting his lamp or a candle, and just got dressed in the half light coming through the door.

He could have called the light back, of course, but it was too risky. The Knights of Pallisur strictly forbade the use of magic by members of the order. Only the priests of Pallisur were allowed to use magic in town—not that many of them had been granted that gift.

Corec knew enough to recognize that the silvery ball of light had to be magic, but he had no idea where it came from. He was no wizard, speaking arcane words to cast spells—the light simply appeared on its own. Wizards weren’t the only people who could use magic, but other than priests, he didn’t know much about any of the others.

The ball of light had shown up for the first time a year earlier, and it wasn’t until it had appeared for the third time that he’d even been certain he was the one causing it. It had taken him two more months to learn to control it, making it appear only when he wanted—which was almost never—and disappear when he wished it to be gone. Luckily, the light usually only showed up when he was in his dark room, which he had to himself. The one time it had appeared while he was walking back from town at night, he’d been alone and was able to extinguish it before anyone saw.

If it was going to start appearing again, Corec knew he’d have to do something before he was discovered, but what? The only idea he’d had so far was to speak to a wizard, but there weren’t any nearby. The followers of the war god Pallisur held sway over most of Larso, and a wizard was unlikely to set up shop where he wasn’t wanted. Corec’s family wouldn’t help either, since they, too, followed Pallisur. He debated talking to Jesson, but his father’s cousin was only rarely at the fort, and was devoted to his faith. The only suggestion he was likely to make was to leave the order.

Corec sighed. When he’d been given the choice between becoming a knight or a priest, learning to be a knight had sounded like fun. These days, it merely seemed like the better of two bad choices.

Shavala heard the commotion as she left her hut. She was about to return for her bow, but then realized the noise was coming from one of the trading caravans that were permitted to enter the forest.

The northeast border camp received traders regularly, since they were on the closest route from the human city of Tyrsall. The eight camps marked the boundary up to which outsiders were allowed into the forest, though the rangers patrolled farther out to make sure any other human or stoneborn visitors didn’t try to cut down the tershaya trees without permission.

Shavala’s friend Ellisan, a ranger trainee, passed her on his way to the caravan. “I hear they brought extras this time,” he said with a grin.

The traders mostly provided flour, oats, wool, and other things Terrillia couldn’t cultivate for itself in the forest. In exchange, Shavala’s people would sell silk garments, finely woven rugs, and spices that only grew among the tershaya.

Sometimes the traders would bring extra trinkets and goods that weren’t part of the regular shipments. Shavala followed Ellisan to the caravan, eager to see if there was anything interesting this time. He stopped to look at some human-style clothing, but Shavala thought it was too plain looking so she continued on. She found herself in front of a young trader’s apprentice who’d set up a small table and was laying out items.

“What is this?” she asked in trade tongue, picking up a slender metal tube.

He jumped back in surprise, not having realized she was standing in front of him. Once he saw her, he stared long enough to make her uncomfortable, then shook his head and glanced down at what she held.

“That’s a spyglass, Lady Elf,” he replied.

She was annoyed at how the human boy addressed her, but she didn’t wish to tell him her name. “What is it for?”

“May I show you?” he asked, holding his hand out.

She passed it to him. He twisted the end and pulled, and suddenly, the metal tube became three metal tubes attached together, each one smaller than the last so they could fit inside each other.

“Here,” he said, handing it back to her. “If you look through the small end and point the big end away, you can see things far in the distance. It’s the same as ships’ captains use, but smaller so it’s easier to carry.”

She tried holding the spyglass in front of her face, but it took her a moment to realize she’d need to look with one eye while closing the other. Pointing it toward her hut, she saw Lele on her roof stuffing his face with an acorn. When another squirrel came up to him, he took off running, but they moved too quickly for Shavala to track them with the tube.

She didn’t have much she could trade, but she asked anyway. “What do you wish in exchange?”

“The price is one gold, Lady Elf, and a bargain at that. This kind of glass work is well worth it.”

“Metal coins? I have a metal coin.” She rummaged through the belt pouch where she kept her small valuables, and handed the trader the coin she’d been saving.

The young man looked at it in disappointment. “That’s a copper piece.”

“Is that worth more or less than gold?”

“Less. Much less. If you have four hundred of them, I can sell it to you.”

“Why would I have four hundred of them?” she asked, confused. “I only need one.”

The boy’s mouth moved but no sound came out.

“I have this shiny rock, too,” she said, handing it to him.

He looked at it, then passed both it and the coin back to her. “It’s very pretty, but I’m afraid I can’t trade you anything for it.”

“Oh,” she said, setting the spyglass back on the table in disappointment.

“Shavala!” Meritia said in Elven, walking up to them. “Are you torturing the traders again? Come along. It’s time for lessons.” The druid woman looked impatient. She was Shavala’s teacher, as well as leader of the camp.

“It’s a spyglass, Meritia!” Shavala replied in the same language. “It lets you see things far away!”

“I know what a spyglass is, girl. He’s trying to take advantage of you. You can buy one in a human city for ten silver. I’ve told you, don’t try to trade with the humans until you learn how they work.”

“Is silver worth more or less than gold?”

Meritia just shook her head and pointed back to Shavala’s hut. “Go get your bow and meet me in the western clearing.”

Five minutes later, Shavala reached the clearing, wishing Meritia had let her investigate what the rest of the traders had brought. The caravan would be gone before the lesson was over. Lele had climbed onto Shavala’s shoulder and grasped her hair for balance, chittering in her ear. Meritia was waiting for her with a quiver slung over her shoulder, holding her own bow.

“Why do we need bows?” Shavala asked. Meritia hadn’t been the one teaching her archery.

“You’ve learned what you can from the rangers, but you’re not a ranger. They’ve taught you the mechanics, but that’s not enough. When you and Ellisan were learning together, how did you do compared to him?”

“I’m as good as he is!”

“Almost, yes, but he’s twice as strong as you, and so is the draw of his bow. You’ll have to have a much better aim to be as effective. It would be cruel to shoot a deer and have it run and bleed out over hours because your arrow didn’t penetrate deeply, yes?”