Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

I slung my bow across my back, and my arrows were attached to saddle for easy reach. I also had my short sword strapped to my waist, and my silver dagger tucked in my right boot. The path toward the Leanderial Line was still clear of deep snow, though here and there a few patches of frost covered the chilled forest. While the days were still warm enough that it would melt by midday, we didn't have long before the snows made travel difficult.

The Leanderial forest ran parallel to the Leanderial Line, and both were considered the border dividing the two nations. Further on in the world, there were other borders and other peoples, but they were so far away that they were almost a myth. No one I ever knew had made the trek south of the People of the Sun's lands, at least they didn't return to us.

Northeast of Renmark was another forest—the Bramble Fel—and that was one I seldom ventured into. It was a shadowed thicket with strange creatures within, and it was easy to get lost in Bramble Fel. The spirits of the land didn't care for people, and they did their best to confound and confuse anyone who didn't belong there.

But the Leanderial Forest was broad and free from most undergrowth. There were plenty of places to hide, but even if I drifted off path, it wasn't all that difficult to find my way back. The energy here was lighter—the nature spirits more friendly.

I glanced up at the sky. It was nearly midmorning by now.

The path led into Lake Shore, the northern most village belonging to the People of the Sun. If all went well, I would arrive there by late afternoon, even though Yaran was dragging the wheeled sledge behind him. It wasn't overloaded, and the path was relatively clear and compact.

As the horse swayed beneath me, I had time to think about the dilemma I was in.

What will happen if I can't raise enough coin to pay the tithe?

I didn't want to even allow my thoughts to run in that direction, but I had to face reality: failure was a possibility. I wasn't sure how much consideration Garimorn would give me, given my mother's recent death, and I didn't want to find out.

As the morning brightened and the frost began to melt, I could smell the tang of the forest. All around me, the smell of decaying leaves lingered in the air, breaking down as the icy rains that preceded snow soaked the region. Luckily, today was foggy, but the sun was burning away the mist and clouds. I pushed the hood of my cloak back, inhaling deeply.

I held the air in my lungs. Other than worrying about the sheriff, I was actually content with my life. My happiest days were spent in the forests, hunting. Maybe I wasn't cut out to be a wife and mother. I loved my home, but I never felt the inclination to retire into the kitchen and stay there.

"Thank the gods Da taught me to hunt," I said, talking to myself. "Maybe I should just build a small cottage in the woods and live there, away from town…"

The sheriff and the magistrate had rule over the village and the surrounding area several leagues out in all directions from our village, but there was no comprehensive leader of the entire nation. Every village had its own government, and the Magistrates would meet for a tribunal in early summer to discuss the coming winter. If I moved out into the woodland far enough, Garimorn wouldn't have any say over what I did or didn't do. But I still owed the current tithe.

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I glanced into the sky. I'd been riding for some time, and it was now past noon. I pulled to the side of the path, into an open turnout, and while Yaran grazed on the grass, I dug through the basket I'd picked up from Sanya. There were four fat roast beef sandwiches, along with a packet of cookies, and a jug of milk. They had three cows to supply their milk for baking, and Sanya sometimes sold a pitcher on the side.

I settled on the ground on a dry patch, and listened to the humming of the forest. It was a different kind of noise from the village, but busy, no less. The birdsong intermingled with the hum of insects—although soon the insects would vanish as the snows came. The wind rustled through the trees, and the slight bite of the breeze made me pull my cloak tighter as I ate.

Finally, after relieving myself behind a tall bush, I wiped my mouth and hands with a tea towel I'd brought, then made sure my load on the sledge was still tightened down. Satisfied that it wasn't going to tumble off, I swung onto Yaran's back again, settled myself into the saddle, and we were off.

Near dusk, I caught sight of a glow up ahead. Lights. I was near Lake Shore. I clucked, digging my heels gently against Yaran's side.

"Faster, boy," I said, and he broke into a light trot.

Lake Shore was bigger than Renmark and, I had to admit, the people were friendlier. Something about living in rough climes made my people harsher. We valued our lives more, and yet we were less concerned about losing them. Death was as much a part of the cycle as was birth, and our time in between was for living the best we could.

I crossed the bridge over a large stream—it was really a small river, but nobody called it that—and rode through the two tall lampposts that flickered against the approaching darkness. They were enclosed in bronze, and stood about seven feet off the ground, shedding their light. I wasn't sure what the Lake Shore people used in them to produce light, though. I'd never seen one have an actual flame inside, but still the illumination stayed strong, never wavering. Not even in the wind.

As I rode into the main square, I realized it was too late to approach the shops, and I didn't have enough coin to stay at the inn for the night. I bit back my pride and navigated through the cobbled roadways until I came to one of the smaller houses. It was attached to a restaurant, and I hesitated before going inside. But finally, a wind gust raced past, stinging my face, and that made me move. I tied Yaran to the hitching post and, making sure my goods were covered by a tarp, I headed inside the restaurant.

It was still open, and the moment I stepped through the door, I heard a voice echoing through the crowded room.

"Asajia! What are you doing here?" The woman wove her way through the crowd of diners and drinkers, emerging from behind the bar. She was a curvy woman, seductive and yet she never made anyone uncomfortable with her lavish personality. "My dear, how good to see you again! I didn't expect a run from you for another month!"

I hugged her back, whispering, "May I talk to you for a moment, in private?"

"Of course," she said, lowering her voice. "Follow me."

Nyett led me into a storage room, shutting the door behind us. "So, what can I do for you?"

I sat on one of the chairs, arching my back. I was stiff from riding all day. "I've come to sell some meat, and also…my mother's bride-dress. I don't have the coin to hire a room from you, but I was wondering if you'd let me sleep in your stables? I can clean stalls in exchange for lodging."

Nyett frowned, looking concerned. "Is something going on? You don't sound as chipper as usual."

I didn't want to say anything. I never knew who had dealings with whom. Though I liked Nyett, for all I knew she might be connected with Garimorn in some way.

"No, I'm fine. Just preoccupied," I said. "My mother died a couple months ago, and so I've decided I might as well sell her bride's dress. I doubt I'll ever need it."

"Oh my dear, don't say that," Nyett said, reaching out to stroke my cheek. "You never know when Fate will change. She hides behind the door, listening, you know."

I shrugged, smiling. "You never know, do you? But no, I want to sell it. So, may I have use of your stable?"

"Of course. I'd give you a bed but they're all full tonight. But I'll have Rona bring you a heavy blanket—you can use that to ward off the chill. There's a hearth fire in the stables to warm the horses. Our stable-hand takes care of it. I'll warn him that you're going to be out there, and to leave you alone unless you need help."

"Thank you," I said, relieved that I wouldn't have to hole up on the outskirts of town, in one of the homeless parks for those who couldn't afford lodging. Those settlements were dangerous.

"I may not have a spare bed, but I can feed you. Come and eat dinner. It's only stew, but it's hearty and has a good sauce. And I made apple pie for dessert."

I willingly followed her back to the main dining room, where she introduced me to Rona, the barmaid.

"Bring her dinner, and then a heavy blanket. Asajia will be staying in the stables for the evening." Nyett patted my hand. "I'll go talk to Jet while you're eating. That's the stable hand's name, by the way. I'll ask him to drop into the restaurant and introduce himself."

Rona led me to an open spot at the family-style table, which was filled with travelers, both men and women. I didn't recognize any of them, so they were either all People of the Sun, or some of them belonged to villages other than my own, above the Leanderial Line.

The restaurant was rustic, but it felt comfortable and welcoming, and as the blur of voices surrounded me, I began to relax. By the time Rona brought me my food, I was halfway asleep.

Dinner was hearty and warming to the body and soul. Thick beef stew, hearty grain bread, and—of course—the apple pie. Rona offered me ale, but I chose milk instead, and by the time I was finished eating, I was exhausted.

Once I was done, the barmaid led me out back. She showed me where the privy was, then walked me to the stables as I led Yaran and the sledge behind me.

"I need to keep him near me. I can't afford to lose my goods to a thief and I haven't got a room or a vendor stall yet." I glanced at her. "Do you like your job?"

"Yes, of course," she said. "The mistress treats me well. I pick up extra shifts often enough, and she doesn't require me to pay for my food. I live with my parents, and they don't like that I work around men, but we don't have a choice. My parents need my help, and even though they want me to lead my own life, I don't plan on doing anything else for now."

She spread out a thick blanket over a mound of hay, then a heavy quilt over the top. "The fire's over there, if you need to warm up. We can't have it too close to the stalls for obvious reasons. Flame and dried straw do not mix, but it still takes the edge off. If you need help?—"

"I'll scream," I said, showing her my weapons. "I never leave my village unprepared, whether it be for a hunting trip, or a journey like this one." As I slid in between the blanket and the quilt, I realized that straw was a far sight more comfortable than I thought.

Rona waved at me, then headed out of the barn. I was alone with a group of horses, a crackling fire, and my thoughts.

A few minutes later, the stable hand came over to introduce himself.

"Hey, I'm Jet," he said. He was younger than I had thought him to be. He couldn't be more than fifteen. "Nyett said you'd be staying here for the night. Do you have enough hay to cushion you?"

I nodded, holding out my hand as I sat up in bed. "Thank you, yes. I'm Asajia."

"You're from the north," he said.

"Yes, from Renmark." I yawned. "I see where the water pump is. If I get thirsty?—"

"There's a spare bucket of water there that I use, as well. Feel free to drink from it. The water's fresh. The privy is that way," he pointed to the opposite end of the stables. "I'm going to snuff the lamps. There's one central one by the door that stays lit all night, but it's secure."

"Is there fire in the lampposts in Lake Shore? I never see the flames," I asked.

He shook his head. "The lights are magical. The mayor of the village is a witch, and her sister takes care of things like that."

"Your mayor is a woman?" I'd never thought about the politics of the village, or if they might be different than Renmark's.

"Yes, and she's good at her job. All right, I'll let you to sleep now. I've a long day ahead of me and I need my shut-eye." Jet turned and, crossing the room, climbed a ladder leading to the loft. I assumed he had a room there.

As I dug deep in my covers, still chilly but warm enough to manage some sleep, I prayed to Elieyana that my game brought good trades and coin tomorrow, and that my bride-dress sold. If they didn't, I had no clue what I was going to do.