days ago. He was very tempted to look back, and with each step forward tempted a bit more, but the point of going forward was progress and thus he was to all eyes admirably progressive. He continued on, following his shadow along Front Street’s white-and-gray stones and thinking that he should be turning around and heading to the packet boat dock to secure his ticket and then going to the inn for his bags, and yet…
Matthew knew himself. When he was curious about a situation or a person, there was no retreat until he had satisfied his curiosity. He could not let this go. Thus his intended trip to the mountain Muldoon today, up the North Road into rice and Green Sea country, into the supposed realm of witches and devils on the River Solstice, into the future unknown…if only for a few hours, which suited him just fine.
He walked on at a steady pace, seeing the stable ahead, and readied his money for the rental of a noble horse to carry the warrior onward.
Five
"Ya ain’t from around here, are ya?”
An understatement, Matthew thought. But he said politely, “No sir, I am not. I am seeking the house of a—” He paused, because more and more people in this little town of Jubilee were coming forward along the dusty street to get a gander at the newcomer in his sweat-damp clothing. Matthew had removed his coat and tricorn hat in tribute to the oppressive heat, which seemed to not only be boiling from the hot yellow ball of the midday sun but also roiling off the huge willow trees that ought to be cooling the town, not inflaming it. Matthew felt like a wet rag. His chestnut horse, Dolly, was underneath him presently drinking from a trough at a hitching-post. He wished he’d had the sense to bring a simple water bottle on this jaunt. So much for preparations from someone who always considered himself well-prepared! Fie on it! he thought. He spied a well that stood at what seemed to be the center of this community of patchwork houses, and he said to the grizzled old man who’d first approached him, “Pardon me while I get a drink, please.”
“He’p y’self,” the fellow offered, and took the reins to tie Dolly to the post while she drank.
Matthew put on his tricorn, got out of the saddle and excused himself past many of the rather threadbare-looking citizens who had come to take the measure of his worth. Men, women, children, dogs and chickens had arrived on the scene. He felt the stroke of a few hands, not along his body but along the material of his linen shirt and the suit jacket he held over his shoulder. Eight miles north of Charles Town had brought him into a wholly different world. The structures here were ramshackle hovels, except for one larger building that seemed fit enough to stand against an evening breeze, with the title Jubilee General Store painted in white above its front doorway. A lean, rawboned man wearing a floppy-brimmed hat with a raven’s feather in the hatband sat in a rocking-chair on the store’s porch, a jug of something perched on a barrel at his side and his eyes aimed at Matthew, who nodded a greeting as he approached the well. The man failed to respond, but a couple of dogs and a few small children ran circles around Matthew and stirred up what seemed to the visitor the very dust of discontent.
He cranked the bucket up. He could look to the northeast and see—beyond several more houses and wooden fences—fishing boats and canoes pulled up upon a swampy shore. The River Solstice flowed past Jubilee, merging into the Cooper only two hundred yards to the southeast. It was notable in that it was a third as wide as its larger brethren, which was nearly a mile across in places, but seemed in what he’d seen of it so far through the trees and underbrush to be a nervous river, full of twists and turns in contrast to the Cooper’s stately progress. Indeed, the North Road—a weatherbeaten trail, at its best description—had led him alongside the Cooper for a time before
Matthew knew himself. When he was curious about a situation or a person, there was no retreat until he had satisfied his curiosity. He could not let this go. Thus his intended trip to the mountain Muldoon today, up the North Road into rice and Green Sea country, into the supposed realm of witches and devils on the River Solstice, into the future unknown…if only for a few hours, which suited him just fine.
He walked on at a steady pace, seeing the stable ahead, and readied his money for the rental of a noble horse to carry the warrior onward.
Five
"Ya ain’t from around here, are ya?”
An understatement, Matthew thought. But he said politely, “No sir, I am not. I am seeking the house of a—” He paused, because more and more people in this little town of Jubilee were coming forward along the dusty street to get a gander at the newcomer in his sweat-damp clothing. Matthew had removed his coat and tricorn hat in tribute to the oppressive heat, which seemed to not only be boiling from the hot yellow ball of the midday sun but also roiling off the huge willow trees that ought to be cooling the town, not inflaming it. Matthew felt like a wet rag. His chestnut horse, Dolly, was underneath him presently drinking from a trough at a hitching-post. He wished he’d had the sense to bring a simple water bottle on this jaunt. So much for preparations from someone who always considered himself well-prepared! Fie on it! he thought. He spied a well that stood at what seemed to be the center of this community of patchwork houses, and he said to the grizzled old man who’d first approached him, “Pardon me while I get a drink, please.”
“He’p y’self,” the fellow offered, and took the reins to tie Dolly to the post while she drank.
Matthew put on his tricorn, got out of the saddle and excused himself past many of the rather threadbare-looking citizens who had come to take the measure of his worth. Men, women, children, dogs and chickens had arrived on the scene. He felt the stroke of a few hands, not along his body but along the material of his linen shirt and the suit jacket he held over his shoulder. Eight miles north of Charles Town had brought him into a wholly different world. The structures here were ramshackle hovels, except for one larger building that seemed fit enough to stand against an evening breeze, with the title Jubilee General Store painted in white above its front doorway. A lean, rawboned man wearing a floppy-brimmed hat with a raven’s feather in the hatband sat in a rocking-chair on the store’s porch, a jug of something perched on a barrel at his side and his eyes aimed at Matthew, who nodded a greeting as he approached the well. The man failed to respond, but a couple of dogs and a few small children ran circles around Matthew and stirred up what seemed to the visitor the very dust of discontent.
He cranked the bucket up. He could look to the northeast and see—beyond several more houses and wooden fences—fishing boats and canoes pulled up upon a swampy shore. The River Solstice flowed past Jubilee, merging into the Cooper only two hundred yards to the southeast. It was notable in that it was a third as wide as its larger brethren, which was nearly a mile across in places, but seemed in what he’d seen of it so far through the trees and underbrush to be a nervous river, full of twists and turns in contrast to the Cooper’s stately progress. Indeed, the North Road—a weatherbeaten trail, at its best description—had led him alongside the Cooper for a time before
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