a feather, but stopped when he realized he already knew the answer.
According to the fables, this was a feather from a phoenix. When the mythical birds reached the end of their lives, they consumed themselves in flame until there was nothing left but a lone feather. No, not nothing, he at last understood. What was left was the negation of the bird of flame. It did not give off light, but devoured it. Yes. This was what the principles of his own studies taught. That the negation of a flame was the void. From that, they were reborn.
He looked at the Rambler, who inclined his head in a small nod.
"I must be on my way, I must continue my search. But keep that token with you, and do not be afraid." The Rambler turned and entered his wagon, leaving them with one final smile as he shut the door.
Sera was still staring at the feather in her hand. Cassian moved closer to look at it. Even up close he could see no glint of light, and even making out the individual tines of the feather was difficult.
"This is real, Cassian. I can feel it. This is from a phoenix."
"I know," he said, "I have never seen anything like it."
"Even if I could not see it, I could feel what it is."
The vardo started to move down the road ahead of them, the Rambler once again on his way.
"Why did he give this to me? If it is what it is, then it's among the rarest things in the entire world. Why give it to someone he doesn't even know?"
"I don't know, Sera. He said it would keep you safe. And to not be afraid. He seemed to think you needed it more than he did."
"That doesn't make me feel any better."
"No. No, it doesn't." Cassian started moving his horse down the road. "Of course, he may also simply be a crazy old rambler." Not that either of them believed that.
Sera lifted the strap over her head and hug the feather against her chest.
They rode around the curve where they had last seen the vardo, but it was nowhere on the road ahead of them. Cassian lifted one corner of his mouth in a sardonic smile. Some folktales were true, he thought.
They mostly rode in silence for the rest of the day. The mood of the journey had changed, both of them now concerned about what may lie ahead. It was strange that a gift of such value could have such a dampening effect.
Once their path led back to the main road, Sera kept them on it. She seemed unwilling to venture off into the woods on smaller paths. Clearly the Rambler's gift was affecting her mood.
Even when they stopped to eat a brief lunch, she remained uncharacteristically quiet. They sat on rocks beside the road, the sun warm on their skin, while their horses grazed in the nearby grass and drank from a small stream bubbling in the background. The scene was idyllic, but their thoughts were distracted.
Cassian asked what he had been thinking all afternoon. "Why did he give the feather to you? He knew I was a scholar of alchemical and magical lore, but he wanted you to have the phoenix feather."
A flare of anger crossed her eyes. "Are you envious, Cassian? I'd just as soon give this feather to you as to keep it. I can't help but feel it's a bad omen."
"No! That's not what I meant at all." Though of course he truthfully did covet the feather. It was the nature of alchemists to desire rare magic, and Cassian was not immune to this. "I meant, how did he know of your...aptitude for magic?"
She sighed. "I'm not surprised he did. Since I was a little girl people who themselves understand natural magic have told me they can sense my ability for it. And John the Rambler had a very strong sense of it himself. He would not have missed it in me."
Sera stared into the distance. "You asked why I harvest. The simple answer is that I'm more at home in the forests than in the city, or even in a town or a village. When I'm in a city, I feel off-balance. As if my blood was moving through my body in uneven lumps. I only feel...right when I'm outside, with nature around me."
"That's why you left Correndrum last night, why you didn't stay at the inn."
She grinned at him. "You really are fast on the uptake. Yes, I went home so I could escape the city and sleep under the stars. It's just the way I'm meant to be, Cassian. It's my fate."
Just as they were rounding up the horses to get back on the road, a small group of Rhymish soldiers rode by them. There were eight of them, all veteran men by the look of them, men who had seen more than one real campaign in their lives. The rode in the direction of Correndrum, and they rode briskly. The jangle of their mail struck Cassian. These were foreign soldiers travelling in armor, with their weapons at their side.
The men for the most part ignored the travelers on the roadside, but Cassian noticed one of the veterans look at Sera, and he protectively stepped in front of her. The man on the horse laughed as he rode by, and winked, though whether the wink was meant for Sera or Cassian was not entirely clear. It did not leave Cassian with a pleasant feeling in either case. But Sera smiled at him as she mounted her horse, and soon they were on their way, riding in the opposite direction from the foreign soldiers.
They passed through a few tiny villages, most of them not much larger than a crossroads jumble of tradesmen and shops, though one was large enough for several streets and a dock area doing brisk trade with passing boats. Cassian realized this must be Whillwhistle, on the Dornal River, the same waterway that passed the city where they had started their journey. They had covered more ground than he had thought, and there were still several hours left in the sunlight.
As they rode through the main crossroad at the center of the town, he saw the familiar shop sign of an alchemist. If he remembered what Master Linus had told him, that would be the shop and laboratory of Gilgood, an alchemist known for his bold (some said brash) experiments. He had set up shop in Whillwhistle so that he could sell his wares to the river trade, which in a town this small could finance his wilder experiments. Cassian wished he were able to visit Gilgood and see what he did in his lab, but even if he had the time, he was sure that no alchemist would show a rival's apprentice his work. Gilgood may even throw Cassian out of his shop! Again he wondered what secret process Linus was performing in the lab that made him want to send Cassian away.
There was a large inn just as they departed town, and Cassian was tempted to suggest they stop for the night. It would be good to spend the night indoors, and they might feel better tomorrow having rested in a safe place. But he knew now that Sera would not want to stay indoors, so he did not mention it.
She pressed on out of town anyway, determined to cover as much ground as possible today. It seemed she wanted the trip to go quickly now. Or perhaps she was still dwelling on the feather.
The road followed the river here, so they had a reedy, marshy bank a few yards off to their right. Beyond the bank, the wide slow river carried a steady stream of boats on its currents. The river was still the main route for large cargos, most headed towards Lake Tormal. There, in the city of Torgran, the cargos would be split up and head either through the mountains to the seaport Baleen, or mounted on caravans to cross the mountains to the south, and deep into many emirates of the Narbib Desert.
Cassian noticed most of the boats on the river were tying down for the night. Even as lazy as the river was through this section, the many shifting sandbars made it unwise to boat in the dark.
Too, they were nearing the point where the road crossed the fens for which Whillwhistle was named. Cassian wasn't sure he wanted to be in the fens at night, and he was certain he didn't want to sleep there.
As they came to the edge of the fen, though, they also came across an encampment of soldiers. Cassian was no expert in military matters, but he guessed this was at least 300 men of the Correnish main army. By the look of them, they had spent all day in the marshes. Most of them were now building fires and beginning to drink wine from giant skins, so they were in a mood for singing and loud laughter. These were regular troops, they wore the deep blue surcoats of Correndrum and the standard issue ridged helm fo
r which the nation's army was known.
As Sera and Cassian past through the camp, the tents came right up to the road on both sides. One group of men passing around a large wineskin laughed crudely as they rode by. Their eyes were locked on Sera, and Cassian knew then that they would have to keep riding. There would be no comfort in sleeping near these drunken soldiers tonight.
They rode on, coming to the edge of the fen. Two soldiers had been posted there, watching the road that came out of wetlands. They were in full uniform, and they wore light chain tunics and carried long, thin spears.
The taller one called to them as they approached.
"You're not going into the fen now are you? There's barely an hour left before the sun goes down!"
The shorter guard, a man with a tight pinched face, scowled at them. "Those Fen Folk'll catch you if you're in them reeds after dark. You won't see `em til they have you tied down under their nets. Then they'll drown your horses as unfit for food. "
"Aye," the taller one said, "And then if you're lucky they'll strip you naked and hang you from what passes for a tree in the marshes. Even if you choke slowly, you'll be dead by morning."
The pinched-faced man sniggered. "And if you're a little less lucky, they'll strip you naked and tie you to the roots of the trees as bait. They'll eat the animals that come to eat you. You might last four or five days like that!"