Jeffrey Quyle - The Healing Spring

“Merilla! Can you make a shirt for me using that fabric?” he asked, his mind jumping from her clothing question to his own.

“Really? That’s how enticing I am to you?” she replied in exasperation. “Just good old Merilla! Maybe she’ll be my seamstress. No excitement there; going to marry the leathermonger, ho hum?”

“No, no, that’s not it,” Kestrel replied. “I did think about you in a dress of your see-through fabric; I imagined being able to see that freckle on your lower back, just below your waist, or those curves you have that are so inviting, or the mole just above your navel, or,” he was ready to name something else when she cut him off.

“That’s enough, Kestrel. My mother may be listening, you know,” she blushed as she lowered the cloth.

“But the Doge said that everyone at court will want to see the mark the goddess implanted on my chest; I’ve already taken my shirt off three times this morning,” he explained.

“So if you wore a transparent shirt at the reception,” Merilla followed his logic, “everyone could see the mark and you wouldn’t have to do anything to show it.

“Alright, I’ll make a shirt for you, my Champion!” she laughed.

“Now, I have to go upstairs,” she placed the cloth back in its spot on the wall and rejoined Kestrel. I’ll be at my house tonight, if you have time to come visit,” she added, as Kestrel placed an arm around her waist.

“I can’t help myself; I’ve thought about you so much, lately,” he told her as he kissed her.

“Can you stay; can you settle down here, Kestrel? I can tell Hammon and my mother ‘no’ if you tell me you’ll come back,” she answered.

He shook his head. “I’ll be gone a long time this time, I’m afraid,” he told her as he released her.

Her hopeful smile turned downward. “Go on now,” she responded. “I’ll see you tonight.” And then she was through the shop door and gone from view, giving Kestrel a reason to leave the shop and return to Castona’s trading place.

He felt remorseful as he walked through the streets to Castona’s shop. He shouldn’t have reinserted himself back into Merilla’s life, he knew, especially as she was settling into a life that would be fixed and solid and reliable here in her home city. But he also knew that he would go to see her that evening, after dark, after the leather shop was closed and after her boys were asleep.

When he reached the trader’s shop Castona wasn’t present, but the assistant at the counter told him to go wait in any of the rooms in the back, knowing as they did of Kestrel’s close relationship to Castona and his special status. Kestrel sat in the room for an hour, glad for the warmth inside, and thought about his visit to the palace earlier in the morning. He had questions for Castona, he knew.

“Well, you’re back sooner than I expected. I thought you might spend all day at the palace,” the merchant said as he returned and entered the office.

“I was taken in to see the Doge right away,” Kestrel replied. “And there will be a reception tomorrow evening at the palace.”

“I knew there would be!” Castona replied.

“When I entered the court, the ambassador from Uniontown was leaving,” Kestrel said, and he watched Castona make an unpleasant face. “What can you tell me about him?”

“He seems evil,” Castona said, making one of the rare statements Kestrel could remember from him that judged the values of someone or something. Castona usually weighed things in his merchant’s manner and delivered an evaluation, but this ambassador drove the trader to a simpler, more direct conclusion.

“He arrived on one of their ships a couple of weeks ago, and acquired one of the largest estates in the city, one that I didn’t even know was available to be had. He and his group have remained largely within it, coming out rarely, except when they tell the gullible people how strong and wonderful their new gods are. He’s gotten some locals to listen to him already!”

“They say, and I know such rumors are the food of fools,” he commented, “but I almost believe this — they say there are strange lights at night, and screams that are terrible.”

“Where is Uniontown?” Kestrel asked. “I thought I had learned the cities of the north and the Inner Seas, but I never heard of it.”

“It’s not properly a part of the Inner Seas Kingdoms,” Castona answered. “It’s much further south, along the Gamble River, near the Western Mountains. It’s grown in profile in the past few years, starting to sell more goods along the Inner Seas and sending ambassadors to some of the kingdoms there.

“Why they have an ambassador here is beyond me. There’s no trade between the two nations at all,” Castona mused. “But they’ve gone to court and presented their credentials, you say? Then they’re here, for whatever reason, and the Doge can’t have been happy to have to recognize someone who is stirring sedition among the lower classes.”

“That’s not the topic I thought we’d talk about though,” Castona moved on. “I’ve found a berth for you on a ship. There’s a naval cutter that’s headed to North Harbor in two days, and as a Captain of the Fleet you’re entitled to a berth onboard. It won’t be comfortable, but it will be fast; with the right winds you could be in North Harbor in just five days sailing time.”

“What would I do from North Harbor?” Kestrel asked.

“It’s an open port,” Castona answered, meaning that it wouldn’t freeze shut the way Estone would in the winter time, “so you’ll be able to purchase a ride aboard a merchantman from there to take you south, at least to Seafare, and from there you’ll be able to find your way anywhere in the Inner Seas.”

“You’ll be a bit of a curiosity aboard the cutter, The Seagull,” Castona told Kestrel. “This honor of being a Captain of the Fleet is usually given to retired naval officers of distinction. The use of its privileges is very rare, unknown for a landsman.”

“Well, this is probably my one and only time to use the honor, so they shouldn’t worry about abuse,” Kestrel laughed.

He parted soon after, and returned to his room at his inn, where he restlessly waited the remainder of the afternoon, until the early nightfall of the season. Kestrel ate a simple meal at the tavern next to his inn, and waited impatiently for time to pass, until he judged that Merilla would be alone in her home, and he started through the streets to visit her.

There was a cold wind blowing from the North Sea, sweeping debris along the city ways, and it caught Kestrel full in the face from time to time, making him wince as he pulled his hood tight and bent forward. The walk seemed to take forever, but in time he reached the corner he had visited the night before. In Merilla’s house there was only one window lit, and a figure stood at the window looking out, serving as a confirmation that Kestrel was welcome to come in out of the cold.

He opened the door and climbed the stairs, then knocked softly and pushed the door open. He saw Merilla walking towards him, carrying a candle that lit the front of her in a warm glow. She was wearing black underclothes, small scraps of cloth that served mostly to accentuate her curves rather than hide them, and that drew more attention to her flesh by its stark contrast with her pale skin. Kestrel could see such details clearly, even in the dim light, because she wore a diaphanous wrap of material around her body, the sheer white material they had looked at in the shop.

“Let’s go someplace warm,” he said huskily, as she came to him and kissed him, a light cloud of a delicate fragrance enveloping him as she arrived, an expensive perfume, he was sure.

“Wait,” she said, and unwrapped her wispy covering. “No reason to take this in,” she told him, as he pulled off his hood and cape, and set his staff aside. They went into the bedroom and Kestrel removed his boots as Merilla pushed the door closed, and then they laid down together and started to kiss, when a shrill voice cried out.