“Yes, Maestra. He stuck close to her as they pushed through the crowd of loud and raucous dock workers heading home or to their favorite inns for the noon meal.
“Here’s a likely place,” Rotiaqua said indicating a weather stained building with a faded sign out front. The sign showed a chipped and faded image of a dog sitting at a table, drinking from a large mug. She opened the door leading into the dark interior of the inn, and gestured for Chedel to enter before her.
They located an empty table off, in the corner, near a window with broken glass and a stained ragged curtain. Chedel took the seat with his back to the door. Rotiaqua pulled out the rough bench and sat with her back to the wall next to the window.
The serving girl appeared and took their order. When she’d departed to fetch their lunch, Rotiaqua turned to Chedel and cautioned him, “Stay put and stay out of trouble. I have arrangements to make.”
She rose from her seat and headed out the back door of the inn. When she returned a few moments later, the food was already at their table, but the boy was gone. She looked around the room for him. It was dark and smoky inside the inn. Finally, she found him sitting at a table on the far side of the room.
He was seated between two dock workers that towered over him. They were dressed in outland style, with leather vests decorated with tiger claws and trimmed in fur. They drank and laughed, elbowing Chedel who sat motionless between them.
Rotiaqua made her way through the crowd to the table where her charge was seated. “Chedel!” she demanded, “What are you doing?”
One of the men turned towards her without rising from his bench. “He’s our new friend,” he said in a menacing tone. “Leave him alone.” He turned back to his flagon and took another drink, slamming it on the table as if that should have ended matters.
“Chedel!” she said, raising his voice.
Chedel sat there motionless.
“What have you done?” she demanded of the two gentlemen.
“I told you, he's our new friend,” the first man said. He turned to face her. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Rotiaqua looked closer at the boy. There was a thick ribbon of dirt-stained green about his neck. At the end of the ribbon, was a river stone tied in a leather thong. There was a small hole drilled through the center of the stone where a wooden peg pierced it.
“An amulet of dur?” she asked, looking back at the man. “Where ever did you get that?”
He rose from his seat to tower over her. “I have one for you too,” he said and reached inside his vest. He pulled out another of the ribbons. He grabbed her by the hair, throwing it over her head. It tingled as the ribbon settled down around her neck.
He brushed his hands off and said, “That should take care of you. Too bad you’re not a few dozen summers younger, you might fetch half of what the boy will.”
He sat back down on the bench and indicated the empty bench across from him. “Sit down, woman.”
Rotiaqua felt the urge to obey. She made her way to the bench and sat facing the man.
“That’s better,” he said once again, hefting the flagon and taking a hearty drink.
“What do you think?” he asked his partner. “Three golds for the kid and one for her?”
“The boy will definitely sell well. Her, I’m not so sure about.” He turned to Rotiaqua and asked, “Can you wash clothes, woman?”
“Yes, I can wash clothes,” she said. She felt compelled to answer, mixed with a fear of him and shame for thinking of disobeying.
“Good,” he said. “A washer woman could bring a few coins.”
His companion leaned forward, examining her. “She don’t look strong enough to wash all day.”
“Can you cook?” he demanded of the Sorceress.
“Of course I can cook, you dolt,” she replied. She stood quickly, grasping her staff in her hand. The first man started to rise and froze mid-rise when she spoke.
“Stay where you are!” she commanded.
She reached over and lifted the ribbon from around Chedel’s neck and placed it over the head of the second man, then pulled the ribbon from around her own neck and placed it over that of the first man.
“Now, sit down and remain here quietly,” she commanded. They both sat still. Their eyes darted back and forth, settling on Rotiaqua with a look of fear.
“Any more amulets? Put them on the table, along with any coins you have on you.”
Both men searched their pockets. Between them, they had a small fistful of coins. The first man pulled out another amulet and placed it on the table.
Rotiaqua nodded her head towards the loot catching Chedel’s eye. “Pick that up and let’s get going.”
Chedel scooped up the coins and the amulet, and stood slowly, stepping over the bench to avoid his captors. He turned and headed back for their table.
Rotiaqua leaned her head in between the two men. “I have spelled these to lose their power just before nightfall. Until then, you two are to sit here quietly and behave.” She reached up and patted the cheek of the man who had accosted her. “Next time you try to use a cheap street-grade amulet on someone, make sure they’re not a wizard of the first order, honey. That was really a foolish move.”
She stood and looked them over once again. “You boys enjoy the rest of your stay.” She reached out and tousled the hair of her would-be captor before turning to join Chedel at their table.
“What happened there?” she asked the boy as she sat down to rejoin him.
“I don’t know,” Chedel answered. “I was waiting here, like you told me to, when that man came over and sat down. He did something, and I felt all tingly. Then he ordered me to follow him.
“I tried to fight it, but it was too strong. I tried everything you showed me about visualizing a knife to cut the ribbon or levitate it off of my neck.” He raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Nothing worked.”
“Remind me to add this to your lessons tonight,” Rotiaqua said as she dug into the roast fowl the serving girl had deposited there in her absence. Chedel flinched and picked at this food.
After Evening Prayer and sunset, the streets were empty. Not even the most unsavory characters were out at this hour. Lorit made his way down the quiet street towards the forest, where he made his camp for the night. He was so exhausted that he fell immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning Lorit awoke feeling more refreshed than he’d expected to, after his ordeal. He followed the trail through the forest until late afternoon, when he arrived at the river bank.
He knew he was far from either river ford. He would have to make his way at least a day or more in either direction. He sat down on the path that ran along the river and waited patiently - for what, he didn’t know.
Soon he heard the clop, clop of a horse approaching, plodding along slowly. The horse appeared around the bend. It was a large and powerful creature that stood half a head taller than your average farm horse. It wore a harness made of faded leather attached to a long rope that ended on the bow of a barge floating on the river.
The barge was made of logs lashed together with rope made from forest vines. On the front quarter of the barge was a makeshift cabin. It was constructed of rugged hewn planks forming an almost square set of walls which were covered with a canvas roof. Lorit could make out two young boys sitting on the barge, fishing, as the horse plodded along.
Lorit waved to the barge. One of the boys rose and entered the cabin to return with an adult who waved to Lorit. He called out, “Where to?”
Lorit replied, “Just as far as Bebrook.”
The man stepped over to the rope that pulled the barge and gave it a few slaps with his hand. “Whoa there!”
The horse stopped its plodding and stood still. The man slapped the rope twice in quick succession, and the horse turned inland pulling the barge onto the river bank.
“Care to step aboard?”
“I’d love the ride,” Lorit replied as he stepped aboard the barge. “Thank you.”
“Always glad to have a visitor,” the man said. He slapped the rope again, this time three times in succession and shouted, “Heave!”
The horse resumed plodding along the trail, and soon the barge was back to floating along, quietly bucking the river current as they headed upstream.
The man turned to Lorit and said, “I am Ryvor.”
“I’m Lorit,” he replied, stepping to recover his balance as the barge rocked slightly.
“Don’t worry about that,” Ryvor said. “You’ll get used to it in no time.” He walked over to the two boys fishing at the front of the barge. “These are my boys. The older one is Ardser, the younger is Pertcha.”
He gestured to the cabin, continuing, “My wife is Politaia, and the girls are Jilang, Emveshon and Shakila. Jilang is the oldest, Shakila the youngest.” He motioned for Lorit to follow him as he raised the canvas curtain and stepped inside.
Lorit followed him into the cabin. It was comfortably decorated with kitchen and living space for the whole family. The rear was clearly the sleeping quarters with bedrolls neatly tied up along the wall. A young woman stood in front of the stove stirring something that smelled like fish stew. Lorit inhaled deeply, savoring the rich smell of boiled fish and spices. His mouth started to water at the thought.
Ryvor laughed at Lorit, “Her cooking has that effect on a lot of folks, until you get used to it.”
“It smells delicious. I have not had fish stew in a long while, we rarely get fish. Only when the stream is full and the fish are spawning.”
“Here we get fish all too often,” Ryvor replied.
“And yet you eat like a starving beggar at every meal,” the middle aged woman chided him. The resemblance between her and the young woman at the stove was remarkable, take a few years away and they could have been twin sisters.
“Don’t let him fool you,” she said to Lorit. “He loves fish stew.”
Lorit rummaged through his pack and pulled out two rabbits that he had snared the afternoon before. “Here are a couple of rabbits I caught. Perhaps you could use them.”
“We could use a change once in a while. Fish is abundant in the river, so we don’t have to go to market often. These will make a fine meal for tomorrow.” She placed them on the table and sat down. She gestured to Lorit to do the same.
As Lorit sat on the chair across from her, another young girl came over and poured a cup of steaming hot tea. She pushed the cup before him, averting her eyes. “Enjoy,” she said quietly.
“Thank you,” Lorit called after her as she hurried away with the kettle.
“Did you say you were going to Bebrook?” Politaia asked.
“Yes,” Lorit replied. The tea was smooth and had an odd flavor. It warmed him all the way down to his toes.
“You will be with us for three days then?”
“If that’s how long it takes to get to Bebrook, and you’re fine with my staying, that would be appreciated. I’ve done quite a bit of walking lately. I would really enjoy a quiet barge ride.”
“You are welcome to ride with us. Anyone who brings food is already a fast friend of Ryvor,” she said, pointing to his kill.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Jilang said as she stirred the pot on the stove. “Emveshon! Shakila! Come set the table!”
The young girl who’d brought him the tea reappeared carrying a stack of bowls. Following close behind her was a girl of about six summers. She was carrying wooden spoons and beaten copper mugs. They worked their way around the table until all the settings were in place. Emveshon fetched a set of salt and pepper grinders from above the stove and a few small jars of spices Lorit did not recognize.
“Ardser! Pertcha!” Ryvor bellowed
.
“Dinner time.”
The boys came rushing in and took their seats. Jilang placed the pot of stew on the table, along with several platters of vegetables and a sliced loaf of brown bread. They reached for the food hungrily. Without flinching, Ryvor reached out with his wooden spoon and whacked the boys’ hands before they could get the stolen food on their plates. “Guests first,” he said, nodding his head to Lorit.
Lorit carefully reached out and took a slice of bread. He ladled a small scoop of the rich soup into his bowl. He stabbed a few vegetables and dropped them next to the bread. He sat back and folded his hands, waiting.
“Go ahead,” Ryvor said. “Now you can eat!”
Lorit watched the boys tussle over the food, eating as if it was a competition, and they were both after the prize. The girls were more restrained and proper in their approach.
Emveshon looked about twelve summers. She reminded him of Onolt, with her hair pulled back, out of her face.
Lorit worried about Onolt. The priest knew who he was, and since they read his mind, they knew about his family. He was worried that somehow his escape would cause harm to come to them. He missed his sister and best friend.
“What’s wrong, son?” She ladled some of the fish stew into her bowl and ground a fine mist of pepper onto its surface. She looked over at Lorit and said, “Miss your family?”
“Yes,” Lorit replied. “I’ve been on the road a while, and I do miss them. Especially my sister, Onolt; we’re very close.”
“So what’s got you on the road then, instead of back at home?” She reached for a slice of bread and carefully spread a thin layer of butter across it. She dipped it into the stew and bit off a piece, chewing quietly. She looked at Lorit questioningly.
“Not sure I should say,” Lorit answered. “I don’t want to get you all into any of my troubles.” Lorit played with his bread and vegetables, not wanting to look too guilty.
“You have problems with the temple?” Ryvor asked. “That puts a lot of young folks on the road.”
“Yes,” Lorit replied. “How did you guess?”
Ryvor inclined his head towards his older son. “Ardser tipped me off.”
“Ardser?” Lorit asked, turning to look at the boy.
“Yes, he has a little problem with the temple, too,” Ryvor explained. “Least he would, if we stayed in one place long enough for them to sense him.”
Lorit turned to Ardser and asked, “How did you come to know?”
“I don’t know, I just know things, and sometimes I can see things that haven’t happened yet,” he answered.
“What do you plan to do?” Lorit asked.