Мерседес Лэки - Passages

“But things are getting dangerous out there.”

Imra patted his cheek and turned back to her bags. “I will be careful. I have been on more Circuits than you can count on your fingers and toes, Tarron. I am not old and feeble. So, now you go.” She looked at the last thing left on the bed.

Folded with precision and starched to perfection were her Herald Whites. She hesitated as she reached for them, and then picked them up slowly and stared at them.

“Take them with you,” Tarron said. “They were and are still a part of you.”

Perhaps. She hurriedly stashed them into her last bag and buckled everything together. “Now,” she turned and patted him. “You need to get going.”

“I can walk you to the stables—”

“No, I can call in some students who have nothing better to do than gawk at all the Heralds.” She pulled him to her and hugged him tight. “I will be fine, as will you. I will let you know when I find a place to settle down.”

He gave her a wary look but returned her hug, wiped his face, and raced out of the room.

:He’ll write a ballad about this one day.:

That’s what Sae would have said.

Imra took in a deep breath and went to call for help.

The road north took Imra through several of the old familiar villages and towns she’d visited while on Circuit. As she came into Restinn, she passed more Heralds on their way back to Haven. Many knew her and waved, but she also saw the sadness in their faces.

Sadness because they knew Saelihn was gone.

She caught up with old friends, made new ones, and worked on a few projects here and there. Through it all, no one asked where her Companion was. Imra assumed they all knew and were respecting her privacy.

By the time she’d moved past the anniversary of Saelihn’s death, Imra had traveled through Endercott. It was several miles outside of town, but not close enough to Polsim, that her pack horse threw a shoe. Imra guided him to a large wide tree flush with new summer growth and examined the hoof. She’d had the shoe looked at while in Briarley, but apparently the blacksmith had done a poor job, or was entirely untrained. Either way, she wasn’t close enough to either town, and her horse couldn’t move much farther without the shoe being tended to.

“Heyla!” came a small voice from above.

Imra kept her calm and looked up into the tree. She spied a gangly young boy spying back at her. “Heyla. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with? A child of Valdemar, or a tree spirit come to drop upon unwary travelers?”

The child laughed and jumped down from a distance Imra would have thought twice about attempting. He was nearly her height, thin and awkward. She guessed him to be close to her son’s age. His hair was long and pulled back in a leather tie. His face was smudged with dirt, as were his hands and feet. He grinned at her, and the smile was infectious. “I’m no tree spirit. My name’s Izli.”

It was then Imra realized she’d made a terrible error. This was no boy, but a girl! “How do you do Izli? I am Imra.”

“Oh, wow,” the girl immediately got on her hands and knees and looked at the hoof.

Imra started to tell her to be wary in case Telidji decided to kick. But the beast of a horse seemed very content to let the child examine him.

:I would never kick a child . . . unless they deserved it.:

Imra dismissed Sae’s memory and watched Izli as she examined the hoof. She realized the girl had some experience with horses. “Do you know of a blacksmith?”

“There’s one in our village.”

“Polsim?”

“Oh, no. That’s a good day and a half ride. I live over there.” She pointed to the forest in the distance. “In Carnei.”

She pronounced the name as “Car-knee.” It wasn’t a village Imra had heard of before. So she said as much.

“Yeah.” Izli stood up and rubbed the backside of the horse. “We’re bigger than you think and smaller than we should be.” She laughed. “Or that’s what my mother says. She owns the inn in town.”

“So you do get travelers.”

“On occasion.” She pursed her lips. “I got some tools close by, so I can reshoe him. But it won’t be permanent. You’ll need Riduil to fix it.”

Imra assumed Riduil was the town’s blacksmith. “All right, Izli, then l put myself in your capable hands.”

The grin that spread across that dirty face was priceless. “I’ll be right back.”

Imra retrieved a few treats from her bags as she pulled them off of Telidji’s saddle. Then she removed the saddle as Izli reappeared. She carried a bag of tools and proceeded to use a nearby stump to help her reshoe the horse while Imra settled him.

Once finished, Imra reset the saddle on Telidji but repacked her bags on Mouse, her riding mare. She took Mouse’s reins and Izli took Telidji’s as the two headed across the field to a dirt path hidden by tall grass and disappeared into the tree line.

“How could this place exist and yet I’ve never heard of it?” Imra said as she walked beside Mouse, half-expecting the horse to answer her.

Carnei was indeed a charming place. Small in size, closer to a village than a town. And it was nicely groomed! Izli led them through a stone arch between several copses of trees. Flowers, shrubs, all manner of decorative plants lined the stone walk. The first buildings were well-constructed utility stores, ready for travelers in need of supplies for their journey to either Polsum or Endercott. All Imra could think about was how great this place would be for a Waystation. It was a bit out of the way, but that would be a good thing for any Herald needing protected shelter.

In her mind, she could hear Sae agree.

The village appeared to be built in an octagon, the town “square” around a hub with a well in its center. The town blacksmith, jeweler, apothecary, general store, and even an inn were all visible from the well. The stone-paved ground was well worn and didn’t hurt Mouse’s hoof too much, but it was still obvious she was in pain.

To the left of the well, in front of the inn’s entrance, a man spoke atop a platform. A group of thirty or more villagers stood around him, listening. Some were incensed and loudly voicing their own agreement, while others watched with crossed arms, a position Imra noticed as signaling skepticism.

As they maneuvered the horses around the crowd, many people gave Izli a warm greeting, and most gave Imra one as well. Without her Whites, Imra had most often met with suspicious stares and hesitant good mornings. This village was in and of itself, an enigma.

Izli took Telidji directly to the blacksmith. Imra stood nearby, her attention torn between the care of her horse and the man on the platform. He was her age, of that she was sure. Mid-thirties, with a head full of well-trimmed hair, a thin beard that edged his strong jaw, and dressed in well-kept working clothes. Imra took in the smell of the flowers planted in pots and planters around the octagon, and she reveled in the fall of cherry petals from the trees that gave the whole scene a splash of color.

“—around us. Do you see the beauty of this place? The village feeds from Crown Lake. That system of surface irrigation is a system we built,” he thumped his chest. “Us. As a village. With our sweat and muscle. Yet our crops wither because we can no longer draw from what our forefathers bore.”

“What exactly are we supposed to do about it, Reyis?” one of the listeners called out. “What exactly do you expect us to do about it? Connak owns the land. He swears he has to tax the use so the town doesn’t shut down.”

Imra frowned at that statement.

“And I call that nonsense,” another villager called out, though Imra couldn’t see him among the people gathered. “We’ve used that lake since the Herald set up the agreement between the people and the Errel family. Connak can’t just decide one day that we have to pay for the water, especially now when we’re sowing seeds and need it.”