Book 2: Chapter Five

Priest Telkin said, “I don’t think about it the way you’re describing it. If there’s a serious injury, I just…heal it. The details have never really mattered. I’m either strong enough to heal someone or I’m not.”

“You mean the magic works even if you don’t know what needs to be fixed, or how?” Treya asked. She’d gone to visit him that morning to ask for advice about using her healing magic. The weather was chilly, so they’d left the courtyard and moved to a side room off the main temple.

“For me, yes,” Telkin said, “but magic works differently for everyone. I’ve heard of healers that approach it the way you do, but I don’t happen to know anyone like that personally. Besides you, I mean.”

Treya sighed. “I guess I was hoping there was some sort of class where you could teach me what I need to know.”

“Not a class, no, but experience makes the best teacher. I got most of my experience here at the temple, from the people who come to us for healing. That’s not an option for you, but some of the city’s almshouses are dedicated to serving the sick and the injured who won’t get better on their own and can’t pay for healing. All of the priesthoods volunteer their time, so you wouldn’t be out of place.”

Treya blinked in surprise. “I never thought of that. The chapter house has herbalists of our own, and we always just hire a healer when we need one. I didn’t think about what happens to the people who can’t afford to. How do I…?”

“I’ll get you a list. Just pick one and show up, and ask the administrator if he needs your help.”

“Thank you. I’m not really supposed to be back in Tyrsall this often, but I suppose other towns must have something similar.”

Telkin nodded. “The larger cities, anyway. I’m glad I was able to address at least part of your concern.”

“You’ve been very helpful. Do you know if Bishop Lastal is in? Would it be possible for me to speak to him again?”

“The bishop? Why?”

“I was hoping he might have learned something more about the problem we brought to him last time, with the binding spells.”

That wasn’t the whole truth. Corec believed that the bishop knew more than he’d told them, and Treya was hoping he’d be more forthcoming if she talked to him again.

The priest hesitated. “He’s a very busy man…but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for me to check.”

“Thank you!”

A few minutes later, Telkin returned and led her to the bishop’s office, then left the two of them alone together.

“Treya, right?” Lastal said. “How curious. I recently came across some information for you and your friends.”

“You mean about the runes?”

“Yes. There’s a wizard in the city who may be able to help you. Yelena.”

“I think I’ve heard that name before,” Treya said.

“That’s quite likely. She works for Duke Voss.”

Voss was the Duke of Tyrsall, responsible for the city itself. Unlike the other three duchies in the kingdom, there were no baronies within the city, so Voss had his hand in everything. In many ways, he was more powerful than the king.

“But she’s willing to help us?”

“I would say, instead, that she’s willing to speak to you. Anything beyond that is between you and her.”

“Where can I find her?”

“I can set up a meeting here, but it would be best if you were all present, particularly the w…the young man you were with last time.”

Treya considered that. Corec didn’t trust Lastal, and the offer of a meeting seemed like more than a coincidence. Was there a better way to approach Yelena? One of the girls Treya had grown up with was concubine to the duke’s seneschal. Kirla lived in the palace and had surely met the duke’s wizard by now—perhaps she could provide an introduction.

“I’ll ask them and let you know,” Treya said.

“Excellent. Now, what can I help you with today?”

“Oh, that’s all I came about—just to see if you’d learned anything more about the runes.”

“Yes? And why did you come alone? Surely you have another reason.”

She suddenly felt nervous. “What do you mean?”

“Those of our people who are called to the priesthoods must watch out for each other. You’d do well in the Church of Allosur, and following the God of Knowledge is a worthy pursuit. Perhaps not here in Tyrsall, but I could find you a place. Simply claim that you had a vision that it was Allosur who granted your blessings, and the humans will never know the difference.”

“Our people? What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t really think you’d hidden your nature from me, did you? I thought I’d made that clear at our last meeting. How could I not recognize another godborn, much less a trueborn who’s inherited our ancestors’ magic?”

Treya backed away from him. “Wh…wh…what?”

Lastal stared at her curiously. “You mean you really didn’t know, even when you bear the stigma of a godborn so openly? Where did you think your magic came from?”

Stigma? What did he mean? She could only think of the stigma the demonborn carried—the pointed teeth or horns or other deformities that marked them as something different.

“I…I thought that one of the gods gave me my blessings. That’s what Telkin and the others said.”

“Well, Telkin doesn’t know everything. He actually is one of the blessed—a good man, dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge. But outside the priesthoods, the gods aren’t in the habit of granting blessings to random passersby. Perhaps if you were some hero dedicated to their cause, they might take action to nudge you toward one of the orders, but they don’t just go around picking girls off the street.”

“But my parents…they were farmers. Humans!”

“Likely one of them was a godborn whose abilities hadn’t manifested, or at least had a godborn ancestor. Are you certain they were even your parents?”

“I need to go.”

Lastal sighed. “I suppose this must be overwhelming. I grew up knowing who I was, so the only surprise was when the magic came to me. Well, and one more surprise later on, but we can discuss that at another time. Would you like me to introduce you to some of the others in the city?”

“I’m leaving!”

“Very well, but I’ll be here if you have questions. Please do let me know about the meeting with Yelena.”

Treya ran out of his office, thankful that Telkin wasn’t there waiting for her. Her mind was awhirl with thoughts that wouldn’t stay still long enough for her to think them. Godborn were a myth. She knew, intellectually, that they existed, but she’d never seen one before, and had never known anyone that had seen one. She certainly couldn’t be one herself. Could she?

#

Katrin held a white blouse and a green dress up in front of the mirror, trying to decide between them.

“Which one should I wear tonight?” she asked, turning to where Corec was sitting up in bed, shirtless, braced against the wall with his hands behind his head as he watched her.

“I kind of like what you have on now,” he said.

She smirked at him. Since they were stuck in town for at least one more day waiting on his armor to be repaired, they’d spent half the afternoon in bed, and she hadn’t put any clothes back on yet.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Come on, I’m serious. I haven’t performed with anyone since Felix left, so I want to look good tonight.”

Two traveling minstrels had shown up at the inn the night before, looking for a chance to play. The innkeeper had already made the offer to Katrin, so they’d gone elsewhere for the evening, but before they left, they’d made arrangements to play together tonight. It would mean Katrin would only get a discount on her room rather than getting it for free, but it would be worth it to play something different. The two men had a guitar and a fiddle, so she suspected she’d spend a lot of time singing while they played.

“What about your blue dress?” Corec asked.

“That one’s gotten too ragged to wear in front of an audience.” She couldn’t wear it for traveling, either, since it wasn’t cut for riding. It had been her favorite, but it was probably time to throw it out or sell it to a second-hand shop.

“Wear the green dress, then. It’s a lot like the blue.”

“Maybe,” she said, looking back at the mirror. “But the rune will stand out more if I wear the white blouse with a dark skirt. I get more tips when they stare at the rune.” She’d taken to telling people, when they asked, that it was a magical rune she’d gotten from a wizard. The story was just mysterious enough to interest her audience, and had the benefit of being mostly true.

Corec laughed. “All right. The blouse looks good too.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Katrin called out.

“It’s Treya. I need to talk to you.”

“Give us a minute!” she replied.

Corec jumped out of bed and the two of them scrambled into their clothes before opening the door.

“Oh, good, you’re both here,” Treya said. “Are the others around? Shavala and Ellerie, I mean.”

“I think Ellerie’s here, but I’m not sure if Shavala’s back yet. She went back down to the harbor again.”

“I’ll check.” Treya went to the next room over and knocked on the door. Both of the elven women were there, and Treya led them back to Katrin and Corec’s room.

“What’s up?” Corec asked her.

“I was at the Temple of Allosur, speaking to Priest Telkin, so I decided to see if Bishop Lastal had learned anything more about the runes. He said he knew someone who might be willing to help us.”

“Who?”

“A wizard named Yelena.”

“The one who works for the Duke of Tyrsall?”

“You know her?”

“Just the name. A few people mentioned her when I was looking for a wizard. What about you?”

Treya shook her head. “I’ve heard of her, but that’s it. Lastal offered to set up a meeting, but I think you’re right about him—I don’t trust him either.”

“How does he know she can help?” Katrin asked.

“I didn’t ask. I figured he must have told her about us.”

Ellerie said, “If he can set up a meeting, we should do it. Why don’t you trust him?”

“I just got the feeling he knew something that he wasn’t telling us,” Corec said. Treya nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps about this Yelena person?” Ellerie suggested. “Maybe he needed to speak to her first before mentioning her to you?”

“Maybe,” Corec said. “That might explain it.”

“What if I can reach out to her another way?” Treya asked. “There are Three Orders concubines living in the palace, and I know one of them. I could ask her to speak to Yelena. If Yelena already knows about us, we could request a meeting that way. I really don’t want to talk to Lastal again.”

“Well,” Corec said, “I guess it depends on whether it’s Lastal we don’t trust, or Yelena, or both. I wish I knew what he’d said to her, and why she’s willing to help.”

“If she’s offered, we need to speak to her, at least,” Ellerie said. “I don’t care how we go about it.”

#

Leena shivered in the chilly air as she trudged through the night, holding the old cloak she’d bought more tightly around herself. The snow—at least, she assumed it was snow—was starting to get deep enough for her shoes to leave footprints. Snow wasn’t what she’d expected it to be like. She’d always imagined it to be like sand that was made out of ice rather than stone, but it wasn’t. Not at all.

The stream she’d found that first night had led her to a tiny village. Nobody there spoke the trade tongue, but with enough pantomime, she’d gotten them to understand that she was cold and hungry. They’d given her a warm meal for free, then sold her the cloak, a blanket, a waterskin, a few days of food, and a tinderbox in exchange for half of her money.

There’d been a small path leading away from the village, roughly trailing the bank of the stream, so she’d followed that out of town, but it had taken her three more days to reach the next village. There, she’d spent most of her remaining coins on more food, some warm leggings to wear under her dress, and a pair of sturdy shoes. The shoes were a bargain for what she’d paid for them, but it still left her nearly penniless.

The second village did have someone who could speak the trade tongue, but all he’d been able to tell her was that she was somewhere called Arin’s Dale, on the plains, neither of which helped her pinpoint her location. She hadn’t bothered asking if there was a baker looking for hired help—the village didn’t even have a general store, much less a bakery. The townsfolk traded with each other in the tavern, which seemed to be the only place of business besides the smithy.

That had been four days ago, and now she was running low on food again, and tired from traveling all night. Trees were rare here, and this was the second time on her journey that she hadn’t been able to find any firewood. She’d decided it was safer to keep moving than to stop for the night in the cold.

As the sun came up over the horizon, she saw a group of shrubs growing near the stream. The snow encircled them, but there was clear ground directly below the branches, and she gathered up all the fallen twigs that looked like they’d gone brown enough to burn. The green twigs were worthless, she’d found. She’d learned early on to collect any possible firewood when she saw it, to use the next time she camped. This small batch of twigs wasn’t nearly enough to give her a real fire, but if she found more, perhaps she wouldn’t freeze to death tonight.

She was using her blanket as a makeshift travel pack, so she unbundled it to add the twigs to her dwindling pile of supplies. Hungry, she took the time to eat half of a loaf of small bread, leaving the other half as the last of her food. The waterskin had frozen solid, so she had to dip her hands into the icy water of the stream to take a drink. After that, she had to rub her hands together for several minutes to warm them up again, then she rolled the blanket back into a bundle and tested it to make sure nothing would fall out.

Finally, an hour farther down the trail, she saw thin streams of smoke in the air, and thirty minutes after that, she reached another village, this one larger than the first two. She stumbled to the nearest group of people, three women who were standing near a well, talking amongst themselves.

“C…c…can you understand me?” she asked in trade tongue, trying to keep from shivering.

“You look frozen, girl,” one of the women said. “Where did you come from?”

“I’m l…lost. Is th…there a store here?”

“Come on,” the woman said, wrapping an arm around her. “Let’s get you to Barnabas. He runs the shop, and he keeps a fire going in the stove.”

They made their way to a building and entered. The store was small, but completely packed with trade goods along all the walls and shelves. The woman spoke to the bald, bearded man behind the counter in a language Leena couldn’t understand, then led her to a stove in one corner of the room. It was the type of stove meant for warmth rather than for cooking, of a style she’d first seen during her unintended trip to Larso, but instead of a stack of firewood, there was a large pail filled with black rocks.

Leena dropped her bundle to the floor and huddled over the heat, warming herself up as the man and the woman continued talking behind her. Once she’d stopped shivering, she stood and turned to face them.

The man said, “Rana tells me you’re lost. Where are you from? You’re not a local.”

“I’m from Sanvar, but I was in Telfort most recently.”

“Telfort? You mean in Larso? That’s near eight hundred miles away! How’d you end up here?”

Leena didn’t want to talk about her magic. “I was with a group and I got separated from them. Can you tell me what direction Telfort is from here?”

“Direction? I wager it’s west by southwest, but there aren’t no roads going that way. You’d have to make your way west first, then south, but Rana says you came in from the west, so you’ve been heading east.”

“Yes, we were traveling east, so I kept going that way. What’s east from here? I don’t know the route they were planning to take.”

“If you keep on east, you’ll run into the populated part of the plains. Lots of places like this one, and some larger towns. Beyond that, you’ve got the Storm Heights. Where were you headed?”

While Leena wasn’t particularly knowledgeable of the area, the information he’d given her was enough to orient herself, so she tried to come up with an answer that would make sense. “We were on our way to Lanport.”

“Lanport? Were you planning on cutting down through Tyrsall or crossing the Heights? Either way, you shouldn’t try it on your own. Now that the snows have started, the snow beasts will be coming. They leave us alone out here, but they do a lot of damage in the east.”

“Oh. What if I go south instead?” South was where she wanted to go anyway, so it was convenient that he’d given her a reason to ask about it.

“You’ll hit the free lands eventually. There’s a road you can catch just a day east of here that’ll take you right down, but it’s a long way until you reach any place worth visiting. What about your friends? Won’t they be looking for you? Don’t you want to wait for them here?”

“I think they’ve already gone on without me.”

The shopkeeper and the woman exchanged confused glances.

“You sure about that?” the man said. “We haven’t seen anyone come through lately.”

“They were cutting across the prairie, trying to save some time.”

“Seems like a damned fool idea. They’re more likely to get lost out there than to reach Lanport.”

Leena was beginning to regret the lie. Maybe the truth would have been more believable. “They’re reading the stars like sailors do. They’ve done it before, but I don’t think they’ll come back for me. It’s probably better to wait for them back in Telfort. Can I get there from the free lands?”

“I’m sure you can, but I don’t have a map. Are you really planning to go all that way by yourself?”

“I am, but I need food—do you sell any? Or warm gloves?”

“I’ve got gloves, yes. As for food, I’ve only got trail rations and staples. Rana, maybe the womenfolk could sell her something fresh?”

“We can do that, yes,” Rana replied, “and the tavern has a hot stew. You need some warmer clothes too. Gloves and that cloak aren’t going to be enough in this weather. Barnabas, what do you have in the way of scarves and hats and coats?”

“Well, let me see…” the shopkeeper started.

Leena raised a hand in front of her. “Wait! I only have five coppers left. I can’t afford all that.”

“Five coppers? I can get you the gloves for that and a bit of hardtack, but not much else.”

“Now, Barnabas, you do right by this young lady, you hear?” Rana said. “Otherwise I’ll be telling your wife.”

“See here, Rana, I can’t just give things away!”

“I can work!” Leena said. “I’m a baker. Do you have a bakery in town? I can sew, too.”

“Bakery?” Rana asked, obviously testing out the unfamiliar word in the trade tongue. “A shop for baking? This is the only shop in town. We do our own baking around here. Then again, I wager if we all put our heads together, we could come up with some things that need doing. You stay here and have Barnabas get you everything we talked about. I’ll go speak to the other women about how to pay for it.”

“Thank you!” Leena called after her, so grateful she could almost cry.

Barnabas shook his head. “Once she gets an idea in her head… I suppose we should do your shopping. Gloves first?”