Chapter 2

Jordan and Aubren led their horses through the crowd, a difficult task for two big men with bigger horses. It was market day, and the Triten Square was full. A boy darted across their path, startling the horses. Jordan patted his mount, muttering soothing nonsense to it. A scrawny man held out a bolt of green wool, effectively blocking Aubren's way.

"Have a look, Sir. The finest wool from Lyonsyle for only thirty gold pieces!"

Aubren nudged the man's arm away from him and dryly said, "That is not the finest, and you're overcharging."

He did not stay to hear the man's defense. Jordan leaned over and said laughingly, "You should know. You are the Duke of Lyonsyle after all."

Aubren waved dismissively. "That was a ridiculous sum for the wool. Any shrewd housewife would know that."

They made their way around the church and turned onto a deserted road, putting the market and the town behind them. Jordan glanced around carefully before saying seriously, "My lord, these villagers certainly protect their Healer. They unanimously even deny his existence. If we had not bribed that starving boy, we would not have known where to look next."

"We must tread carefully, for harming such a popular Healer may well stir up the hornet's nest," Aubren said. "Let us ride."

The sun beat down on Aubren and Jordan as they raced through rolling fields of grain. An occasional breeze caressed the stalks, the soft rustle lulling. Following the boy's directions, they passed scattered cottages, then after passing the last one, turned left toward the distant forest. Here was a corn field, amongst which was the cottage they were looking for. Aubren noted the fresh hay thatched onto the roof, the pots of flowers scattered haphazardly along the side of the cottage, and the fern-shaped knocker as the boy had described. The stable and the barn were beside the cottage. They dismounted, and Aubren rapped sharply on the door. When no answer came, Aubren left the horse in front and walked to the back. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the largest cottage garden he had ever seen. Protected by a picket fence, vegetation grew wildly on the left, with plants that he had never seen before. The right side appeared more conventional, flourishing with tomatoes, cucumbers, and various herbs that he recognized.

"Hello?" Aubren called out.

A low growl rumbled as a ball of fur launched itself at him, sharp fangs in evidence. Stepping aside by reflex, he drew his sword. He sincerely hoped that he would not have to kill the Healer's dog before meeting him. A bad impression is such nuisance.

"Max! Down!"

A woman stood up next to the flowerbed bordering the fence. She was so small that Aubren did not even see her kneeling there. The dog slouched away to her side, sulky. She dusted herself off and adjusted her broad-brimmed hat. After giving Max a good rub, she approached. Up close, Aubren noticed her doe eyes, her sweeping lashes, her freckled nose, her most sensuous mouth. He stared speechless until the woman impatiently cleared her throat. He blinked a few times before he said, "My companion and I were traveling. We were wondering if you would be so kind as to spare some water, for our mounts are weary." He tried to hide his broadsword behind his back, mortified at his heavy-handed response to the dog.

Miriam tilted her head slightly as she studied the stranger. Though the tunic he wore was threadbare and patched in some places, the material was far finer than anything a merchant could afford. The metal of the broadsword had inlaid gold patterns curving about. It looked well-made, and well-used. His clipped accent indicated an aristocratic upbringing, his posture, straight and commanding, as if he were used to being obeyed. She grew wary of the man, but her face did not betray her suspicion.

Calling up her most charming smile, she curtsied and said, "Of course, sir. Follow this way please."

"Your name, Mistress?"

"Miriam."

"I apologize for disturbing your peace, Mistress. Please call me Adrian."

Jordan was still in front of the cottage when they emerged from the garden. He was peering into the window, trying to see past the drawn curtains. Miriam let loose a string of giggles, but her mind raced furiously. Who are these people, and what are they looking for?

Adrian frowned at Jordan's indiscrete behavior and gave him a look. Jordan hung his head in embarrassment.

"Mistress Miriam, this is my companion Master Jordan. Jordan, Mistress Miriam has kindly allowed us to rest our horses here."

"Please excuse my behavior, ma'am. I was trying to see if you are home."

"Oh, no need for apologies," Miriam gushed.

They led the horses to the stable. Miriam started to ease the bucket into the well, but Adrian quickly took over and drew water for the horses. Adrian and Jordan relieved the horses of their loads.

When the horses had drank their fill, Miriam stepped into the coolness of the stable, beckoning for the men and their stallions to follow. They secured the horses and deposited their saddlebags onto a bale of hay near the door. Miriam's own mare peeked out from her stall curiously to investigate the commotion.

"Such a horrid day to travel," Miriam said as she handed them brushes and rags.

Adrian nodded his thanks and said, "It is unfortunate, but the life of a friend is infinitely more valuable than our own comfort."

Miriam held her hand out to Adrian's stallion to sniff. Carefully, she wiped the lather off.

"Oh?"

Adrian rubbed his horse down as he said, "He is deathly sick in Triten. Just came down with the illness yesterday, but he's already halfway gone to hell. We were told to come here to seek the Healer."

Working next to him, she brushed the stallion. "Ah. It's a long way to come for a Healer. I was under the impression Triten has many who can cure illnesses."

"Not this illness. The half healers are stumped. They assure us that only this Healer will know what is wrong with our friend," Adrian said grimly.

Miriam nodded, then shrugged and said, "Whoever gave you the directions was mistaken. The Healer does not live here, but in the exact opposite direction. Turn back and follow this road. You will find the Healer's hut under three oak trees that share a common root just as you hit the deep forest."

Adrian froze. He peered at her. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw his stricken expression. Dear Gods, what if there is someone who really is deathly sick! She shook the thought away mentally. Mrs. Taylor of the inn will surely come fetch me if there was a sick person.

"Is the Healer far away? I'm afraid our friend does not have much time," Adrian said as he finished rubbing his horse down, his brows furrowed.

Miriam shook her head.

He was silent as he finished wiping down his mount. Tossing the rag aside, he strode towards the door. He bent over the saddle bags and dug out paper, quill, and a jar of ink, jotting down the direction, carefully repeating it back to Miriam. As Adrian and Jordan pored over the map in the stable, Miriam glanced at the map, noting its luminous and detailed illustrations. Definitely not an item mere merchants would have. The horses were of a mediocre standard, but horses need to be changed throughout a journey. She observed the men warily, but it would be too unusual a behavior not to invite them for the noon meal. After all, the people of Erythal were known for their hospitality. She moved on to brushing Jordan's horse, giving it a good pat before putting away the brushes and rags.

Miriam set out freshly baked rolls, a hunk of cheese, and chicken simmering in an herb sauce. Max was still sulky, but was mollified after Miriam passed him scraps under the table. Tea was, of coursed, served, as demanded by the custom. Miriam brewed the leaves in water until the aroma permeated the room. She whisked milk into the amber liquid skillfully. Before serving the tea, she sprinkled the surface of each cup with a pinch of dried lavender. The men thanked her three times before taking the cup from her.