Red opened her mouth, but Bethral’d had enough. She gestured sharply. Red glared, but closed her mouth.
“Eat, Josiah.” Bethral spoke softly. “The soup does the bowl no good.”
Josiah nodded. It took him a moment, but his hands relaxed and he picked up his bowl and took a few bites. Red scowled, but went back to her meal. All three ate in silence for a few moments, until Josiah looked up at Red. “We’d never thought to look outside Palins. You were born in Soccia? Not Palins?”
Red’s eyes narrowed. “I’m of Soccia, so far as I know.”
“But do you know?” Josiah pressed. “Is it possible that—”
“Possible or not, I do not know,” Red snapped again, putting her empty mug at her feet. “It matters not.”
“And why the gloves?” Josiah asked. Bethral sucked in a breath as he continued. “Why wear—”
“You’ve given of your house and food, Josiah,” Bethral interrupted him firmly. “We thank you.”
Red had straightened her back, her hand on her dagger hilt.
Bethral continued, a warning tone in her voice. “How can we return your gift, Josiah?”
Red gave Bethral a glance, and spoke grudgingly. “Do you have work we can do for you? A hunt for your table, perhaps?” Red lifted her chin. “I can find game, even if I have to go back in the bog.”
“No, no. I’ve enough for my needs, and am pleased to share.” Josiah rose. “You are tired. We’ll talk more in the morning.” He gathered the dishes into the empty pot.
“As you wish, Josiah,” Red answered.
Bethral gave Red a questioning look as the door closed behind him. “You were kinder than I expected with that talk of a prophecy.”
Red shrugged. “He’s a good cook. Not his fault that his wits are wandering. Pity, really.”
Bethral opened her mouth, but Red shook her head. “The horses are rested. Best we be gone and on our way before dawn.”
FOUR
IN contrast to the past days, it was perfect traveling weather. Red had found the road that the goatherder had spoken of, and they’d left without so much as waking the goats. Which was fine as far as Red was concerned. She’d have had to hurt the man if he’d tried to stop them.
Pity, though. She’d been interested until he’d shown himself insane.
But now the road was clear before them, and the sun was bright and just warm enough to be comfortable. A cool breeze was at their backs and there were no clouds to be seen.
The trees were just filling out, their tiny leaves a bright green. The forest floor was still clear of growth, and she could see back in the woods for quite a distance, removing a threat of ambush. Though the blackflies were out, they weren’t thick yet. Birds flitted from every branch, doing their mating calls.
It was spring, and Red was determined to enjoy the ride.
They’d have to stop and hunt soon, since the storm had left little of their supplies. But all in all, Red was feeling damned good. They’d follow this road to the nearest town, purchase what they’d need, and then follow a trade route in search of work. The road stretched out before them, as far as the eye could see.
Bethral was quiet, had been since they’d ridden clear of the devastated area. Red was used to long silences from her. Sometimes Bethral thought too much. It could be a problem, all that thinking. But not often enough that Red wanted to end their partnership.
Beast was moving well, rested and eager to get on the way. Red relaxed in the saddle, about to let her horse’s walk lull her into a doze, when she realized that Bethral had stopped. She looked back, to see the blonde dismount. “Problem?” Red called.
“A stone, I think.” Bethral was digging in her saddlebag for a pick.
Red shrugged and turned Beast back to ride to their side. Bethral pulled Steel’s foot up and set to work.
Beast dropped his head to browse the grass at the road’s edge. Red stretched in the saddle, taking in their surroundings. Not that there was much to see but trees and road. But the road was quality, that was certain. She studied it for a moment before speaking. “That goatherder wasn’t lying. At one time that must have been a grand place, to have a road like this leading out to the middle of nowhere.”
“I think we should help him.”
Astonished, Red swiveled in the saddle to look at Bethral. The blonde had her head down, looking at the hoof she had braced between her knees. Steel was taking full advantage, leaning his weight against Bethral. Not that Bethral minded. She just set her legs and took the load with no real problem.
“What did you say?” Red asked, certain she’d misheard.
“I think we should go back and help him,” Bethral repeated, prying the muck out of Steel’s hoof.
“Your wits are gone!”
Bethral sighed, and kept working. “Red, what lies down this road?”
Red scowled. “An inn, with any luck. A hot meal, cold ale, and work for two sword-sellers.”
“Exactly so,” Bethral said. “We enter a town, seek out work, risk our lives, and wield our swords for a few gold coins. We save some, spend the rest, only to do it all again in the next town.”
“So?” Red fidgeted in the saddle, which made Beast snort and shake his head.
“So?” Bethral echoed. “What do the Twelve say about a good life, about challenging yourself?”
Red scowled. She hated it when Bethral turned priestly on her, thinking and talking in ways that made her skin itch. “It’s a good life,” Red protested. “Hard, but good.”
“As it is,” Bethral agreed. “But the road behind us is an uncertain one, filled with unknown paths and chances. Doesn’t that tempt you? The challenge of taking a throne, based on a birthmark?”
“The challenge of staying alive, more like,” Red scoffed. “You’d take the word of a mad goatherder? Where’s the profit in that?”
“Not all profit is gold.” Bethral looked up at her with those blue eyes. “It would be an adventure.”
“We are adventurers,” Red pointed out briskly. “A life on the road, going wherever our swords take us. How can this not be an adventure?”
Bethral looked at Steel’s hoof. “Is there anything down this road that you haven’t faced before? That you don’t have the skills to deal with?”
Red raised her hand and rubbed her temple with her gloved finger, right where it was starting to throb. “So, it’s not an adventure because I’m good at what I do?”
Bethral nodded. “A true adventure is one that takes your breath away. Where nothing is certain, where—”
“I need to find a bush.” Red dismounted, and walked off into the trees, leaving Bethral to preach to the horses. Best way to end that kind of talk. Talk that made Red all itchy, inside and out. There was nothing wrong with her life, nothing that needed changing.
People on thrones needed book learning, and their letters, and she had none. They needed to be wise and learned, and she’d none of that. Sure there was sword work, now and again, but the idea was to rule a land at peace, and how dull would that be? She shook her head. A birthmark meant nothing.
Red stomped through the woods, kicked at a clod of loam, and found a nice fallen tree to let her do her business. She sat for a moment, taking in deep breaths of spring air and admiring the greenery.
But her thoughts returned to the look in that man’s brown eyes. She didn’t know what drew her in that direction, but something tugged at her. Mayhap the way he’d pleaded for aid. Maybe the kiss, when he’d started to respond to her. There’d been passion there…
He’d been watching her spar with Bethral. She’d felt him, even from that distance. Felt his gaze, and caught him in the act, too. Red smiled at the memory. Oh, she’d felt his desire, his need….
She scowled, and pushed the feeling away. Why should she care? Her caring came at a price, and one that a poor goatherder could not pay, that was certain.
She adjusted her clothing, setting her weapons as she wished, before striding back to the roa
d. A new season awaited, with new work to be done. What more adventure could anyone ask?
Bethral was putting her hoof pick away when Red emerged from the trees. The blonde glanced at her with a questioning look. Red shrugged. “I’ll take the road I know, thank you.” She mounted Beast, then glanced down at Bethral, suddenly uncertain. “And you?”
Bethral smiled, and pulled herself into Steel’s saddle. “Our roads are one, sword-sister. Never doubt that.”
Pleased, Red urged Beast forward. “A real bed and cold ale will set you right, Bethral. You’ll see.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Red saw Bethral shake her head and follow.
THEY entered the town toward evening, having made good time on the road. The place was small, but Bethral was pleased to see an open market with quite a few sellers. They’d find employment soon enough.
The people seemed wary, but friendly enough. Given what the goatherder had told them, that was to be expected. There was a wide variety of skin colors here, but that also was no surprise. Palins had been a major trade center before the troubles, bringing people from all over and beyond the seas. There were rumors that Palins had once traded with the Tribes of the Plains, but Bethral didn’t put much stock in that story.
The only inn bore a sign over the entry that showed a bare foot missing the last two toes, and a mug brimming with ale. The stables were clean, and the boy in charge seemed capable. Red and Bethral took their gear with them.
“The black bites,” Bethral warned as the boy took the reins.
The lad grinned, showing missing front teeth. “So long as he doesn’t kick,” he lisped.
Red was already striding over the cobblestoned yard toward the inn. Bethral followed, just as eager for a hot meal.
“Welcome to Three Toes’s Inn.” From behind a long bar, the innkeeper, a tall black man, bald of pate and round of stomach, greeted them. “How may I welcome you, warriors?”
Red stepped forward and slapped down a coin. “Ale to start.”
“Well enough.” The man pulled two large mugs, and filled them from the keg behind him. Red drank deeply from hers, but Bethral picked up the mug and turned slightly to study their surroundings. The room was filled with tables, stools, and benches, with a large fireplace across from where they stood. A few men sat about, having an early drink.
A movement drew her eye back to the innkeep, who was wiping the wood of the bar and giving them a careful look. As she caught his eye, he gave her a nod, and relaxed. Bethral knew he’d been assessing them for trouble, as any smart innkeeper would. She took a sip of the cold ale, surprised by the nice nutty taste.
“That’s good,” Red spoke, having drained her mug.
“I brew my own.” The man pulled her another mug. “’Tis the best since the troubles came upon us.”
Bethral finished hers as well. “If your rooms are as good, we’ll have comfort indeed this night.”
“Let me show you, ladies.” The man called out his intent to the kitchen, then limped toward a set of stairs. He gestured for them to follow.
“We’re no ladies. I’m Red Gloves. This is Bethral.”
“I’m Three Toes.” He led them up the stairs.
“Big place,” Bethral commented.
“We did a brisk trade when things were right with the world,” Three Toes said. “I can offer two rooms, if you wish. Or one with two beds, small but cheaper.” He pointed to a door. Red opened it and looked in. Plain, simple, with two beds and a window. A small table and one chair.
“This will do,” Red answered. “We’ve two horses, as well.”
They dickered awhile, with Red paying for two nights. Three Toes offered two evening meals as part of the price, and Red was quick to accept.
Once they’d stowed their gear upstairs, they settled at a table near the fire with their suppers and another cold ale each. Three Toes’s cooking was as good as his brewing, producing two large rabbit pies. They dug into the flaky crust, revealing a good bit of meat and vegetables.
The room slowly filled around them, with locals looking for their suppers, ale, and gossip. As the evening wore on, the general laughter that Bethral expected didn’t appear. Men ate and talked, but there was no banter or mirth.
As strangers they drew a fair share of attention, but a few dark looks from Red had most of the men looking away. Bethral had a fair hope that they’d not have any trouble—until four lads staggered to their feet and headed their way. The boys had clearly been in their cups for longer than was best.
Two of them came to stand behind her. One leaned in, his breath heavy with ale. “You’re a lovely one.”
Bethral didn’t look up. “My thanks, but I’m not interested.”
Red shifted on her stool, moving back to give herself room. The other two had come up behind her.
“That’s unkind.” One of the others spoke. “Vel just wants a bit of company, that’s all.”
The other two lads agreed, laughing loudly. Red gave them a sharp glare, but said nothing.
Bethral tried to stave off what she knew was coming. “No offense intended. Let me buy you a round of ale, for peace’s sake.”
“I’d let her, boys.” Three Toes walked by with a tray. “You’re asking for—”
“No one asked you, old man,” Vel snarled.
Three Toes shrugged and moved off. “There’s always them that’s got to learn the hard way.”
Bethral looked at Red, but there was no help there. Red’s eyes held a deep gleam of anticipation.
“We’re looking for peace,” Vel claimed. “A piece, that is.”
His friends laughed at his wit. One reached out and lifted a strand of Red’s hair to his nose. “You’ll do, once we peel off your armor and gloves—”
Red stood, her stool going back onto the floor with a clatter. She drove her fist into the speaker’s jaw. The man dropped to the floor like a felled tree.
There was a roar from Vel and his friends, but Red was moving before the shouts passed their mouths. She whacked the man next to her with her mug, and jumped on the table.
Bethral remained seated, pulling her mug closer in to protect it.
The second man was stunned, but not down, so Red clobbered him again with her mug. This time he sagged, groaning as he fell.
That left the two on Bethral’s side of the table. They both reached for Red to pull her down. Bethral leaned back as Red evaded them, cackling with glee. She wielded her ale mug, striking at their hands. One made the mistake of bracing himself with his hand on the table, and Red’s boot cracked hard on his fingers.
Bethral winced at the man’s howls. Broken, to be sure.
That left Vel, who proved himself a fool by pulling a knife and climbing onto the table.
Bethral sighed and eased her stool back a few more inches.
A crowd had gathered round, egging the boy on as he lunged at Red with his blade. Red didn’t bother to pull her dagger or sword. Bethral saw her take a better grip on her ale mug as she grinned.
Red dodged, feinting in to make the boy swing wildly in response, taking the kid’s measure.
Not that it took long.
Red moved in, and dealt the boy a ringing blow to his head. The cheers of the crowd rose as the lad collapsed to the table, then to the floor.
Red took a bow, and jumped to the floor. Bethral gave her a sardonic look, but that didn’t faze Red one tiny bit. “Three Toes! I need a drink.”
Three Toes arrived promptly with two full mugs. “Stupid fools,” he muttered as he stepped over Vel. “Here, now, you men, drag these louts out and throw them in the street.” He placed two mugs down, and took Red’s offered coin. “My thanks for your restraint, Red Gloves.”
Red shrugged. “He deserved a beating, not my blade. My thanks that you didn’t summon the Watch.”
“Watch?” Three Toes grimaced. “There’s no Watch here, nor a lord. Folks have to fend for themselves.” He glanced over at his bar, crowded with thirsty men. “Your pardon,
warriors.”
Bethral glanced at Red as he limped away. “No Watch?”
“Work for us, then,” Red responded, taking a drink.
Bethral shrugged. “We’ll know in the morning.”
THERE was no work to be had, much to Red’s dismay.
It wasn’t that folk didn’t need protection. But there were none who could afford private mercenaries. It had taken half a day of talking to possible employers, but none would hire them.
Bethral shrugged, accepting the situation. Red had pressed the point, but had no luck. She finally accepted that they needed to look elsewhere after talking to Three Toes over the noon meal and an ale or two. He’d explained that the town of Orloss might be a better choice for them. It was on a major trade route, a three-day ride away. He was sure they’d find an employer there.
At least they could buy supplies here. The market wasn’t big, but large enough to have what they needed. Dried meat, bread, and hard cheese. Some grain for the horses. Bethral found more molasses and kavage. She had the coin pouch now, bargaining for a pound of salt pork and a small sack of flour. Red waited patiently as she dickered, balancing the various packages.
Bethral walked over, well pleased with her purchase. “Enough for three days, easy.”
Red nodded, taking the packages so that Bethral could tie the money pouch to her belt. “We can leave in the morning. Tonight a bit of company, eh?”
“We should have gotten separate rooms, then,” Bethral said.
“Who needs a room?” Red asked with a grin. “There’s the stable, the necessary, the—”
The sound of weeping and the clink of chains made them both stop dead to stare at the sight before them.
There was a low wooden platform, with a small crowd of people before it. Lined up on the platform were men and women, most in rags that barely covered them, chained together like nothing Red had ever seen.
They stopped, stunned. Bethral spoke first, her voice a bare whisper. “The goatherder said there was slavery.”