years.”
Cinzia, eyes wide, looked at Jane. “The last few
years
?” Familiar dread flooded back into her.
Jane nodded. “Yes, Father. It is time.”
“Canta’s breath,” Ehram exclaimed, “I had completely forgotten about where you were this evening. Were you successful?”
Jane smiled. “I was. And showing Cinzia what I found tonight is an excellent place to begin.”
5
Cineste, northern Khale
“I CAN ’ T CHANGE YOUR MIND ?” Ildur had asked the same question two or three times already. While the old man had cut a commanding figure on the snow-swept plains between Pranna and Cineste, he looked suddenly very out of place on the streets of the city.
“No,” Knot said.
“Too bad. Could use a set of hands like yours. Someone who knows how to handle animals. Good in a fight. A caravan runs into trouble every so often, out on the road.”
Knot had joined Ildur’s caravan on the way to Cineste. They’d found Knot during a windstorm, the snow and ice whipping fast enough to cut flesh, and offered him shelter. Soon, they’d discovered his usefulness. Leading oxen, loading and unloading supplies, even driving the teams of animals that pulled the three wagons: it all came as naturally to Knot as working Bahc’s boat, as naturally as killing the men in the Cantic chapel in Pranna and the two watchmen.
And yet, Knot hadn’t fought anyone since Pranna. Ildur’s implication surprised him.
“Can’t stay, Ildur. Sorry.” Knot would’ve liked to remain with Ildur’s caravan, but they were headed south towards Triah. Knot’s business took him the opposite direction. The men who attacked at the wedding were from Roden, and Knot felt inexplicably drawn to the place. He hoped he would find answers there. He had left Pranna to protect Winter. He had to find out about his past before he endangered anyone else.
Ildur nodded. “Very well, lad.” He pulled a small pouch from his belt, and offered it to Knot. “Recompense. You’ve paid for more than the shelter and food, with all you’ve done.”
Knot didn’t want to take money from Ildur’s meager operation, but he accepted it anyway. No use being impractical. He’d left Pranna with almost nothing of value.
“Thank you,” he said, hoping Ildur would hear his sincerity.
“It’s not charity, lad, it’s payment. You deserve it.” Ildur extended his left arm. In Khalic tradition, extending one’s left arm was a way of showing you meant no harm; that you were a friend. Knot gripped it with his left hand.
“Offer still stands, if you ever need the coin,” Ildur called over his shoulder as he walked to the caravan. “We could always use the help.”
Knot nodded as he watched the caravan disappear into the crowded street, though Ildur didn’t look back.
He sighed heavily. A long journey lay ahead of him, and most, if not all of it, would be on foot. He’d considered commandeering a boat in Pranna to cut across the Gulf of Nahl—such a trip would take him a week at most, instead of a month along his current route—but Roden patrolled its surrounding waters heavily, and they did not take kindly to foreigners. And, being honest, Knot was in no hurry. The time spent traveling—time alone, time to think—might help him prepare for whatever he encountered in Roden.
Knot turned. Two- and three-story buildings rose around him, built mostly of light-colored wood and, in rare cases, stone. Shops and tents and people shouting about the latest silk clothing from Alizia or fine steel from Maven Kol crowded the streets. Knot recalled there was one major market district in the city center, and other shops and merchants’ stalls lined the three main roads, leading from the city center to each gate.
The city was uncomfortably familiar to him. He had been here once that he could remember, with Bahc and Winter and Gord, for the Festival of Songs. Even then he had known things about the city that he should not have. The exact heights of the walls and guard
Cinzia, eyes wide, looked at Jane. “The last few
years
?” Familiar dread flooded back into her.
Jane nodded. “Yes, Father. It is time.”
“Canta’s breath,” Ehram exclaimed, “I had completely forgotten about where you were this evening. Were you successful?”
Jane smiled. “I was. And showing Cinzia what I found tonight is an excellent place to begin.”
5
Cineste, northern Khale
“I CAN ’ T CHANGE YOUR MIND ?” Ildur had asked the same question two or three times already. While the old man had cut a commanding figure on the snow-swept plains between Pranna and Cineste, he looked suddenly very out of place on the streets of the city.
“No,” Knot said.
“Too bad. Could use a set of hands like yours. Someone who knows how to handle animals. Good in a fight. A caravan runs into trouble every so often, out on the road.”
Knot had joined Ildur’s caravan on the way to Cineste. They’d found Knot during a windstorm, the snow and ice whipping fast enough to cut flesh, and offered him shelter. Soon, they’d discovered his usefulness. Leading oxen, loading and unloading supplies, even driving the teams of animals that pulled the three wagons: it all came as naturally to Knot as working Bahc’s boat, as naturally as killing the men in the Cantic chapel in Pranna and the two watchmen.
And yet, Knot hadn’t fought anyone since Pranna. Ildur’s implication surprised him.
“Can’t stay, Ildur. Sorry.” Knot would’ve liked to remain with Ildur’s caravan, but they were headed south towards Triah. Knot’s business took him the opposite direction. The men who attacked at the wedding were from Roden, and Knot felt inexplicably drawn to the place. He hoped he would find answers there. He had left Pranna to protect Winter. He had to find out about his past before he endangered anyone else.
Ildur nodded. “Very well, lad.” He pulled a small pouch from his belt, and offered it to Knot. “Recompense. You’ve paid for more than the shelter and food, with all you’ve done.”
Knot didn’t want to take money from Ildur’s meager operation, but he accepted it anyway. No use being impractical. He’d left Pranna with almost nothing of value.
“Thank you,” he said, hoping Ildur would hear his sincerity.
“It’s not charity, lad, it’s payment. You deserve it.” Ildur extended his left arm. In Khalic tradition, extending one’s left arm was a way of showing you meant no harm; that you were a friend. Knot gripped it with his left hand.
“Offer still stands, if you ever need the coin,” Ildur called over his shoulder as he walked to the caravan. “We could always use the help.”
Knot nodded as he watched the caravan disappear into the crowded street, though Ildur didn’t look back.
He sighed heavily. A long journey lay ahead of him, and most, if not all of it, would be on foot. He’d considered commandeering a boat in Pranna to cut across the Gulf of Nahl—such a trip would take him a week at most, instead of a month along his current route—but Roden patrolled its surrounding waters heavily, and they did not take kindly to foreigners. And, being honest, Knot was in no hurry. The time spent traveling—time alone, time to think—might help him prepare for whatever he encountered in Roden.
Knot turned. Two- and three-story buildings rose around him, built mostly of light-colored wood and, in rare cases, stone. Shops and tents and people shouting about the latest silk clothing from Alizia or fine steel from Maven Kol crowded the streets. Knot recalled there was one major market district in the city center, and other shops and merchants’ stalls lined the three main roads, leading from the city center to each gate.
The city was uncomfortably familiar to him. He had been here once that he could remember, with Bahc and Winter and Gord, for the Festival of Songs. Even then he had known things about the city that he should not have. The exact heights of the walls and guard
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