‘But what Jacrys did was-’
‘Jacrys will pay for his actions one day, and maybe you’ll be there to see it happen and maybe you won’t.’
‘I would like-’
‘And maybe you won’t,’ Nedra repeated. ‘I would like that even more. Don’t allow a wicked man to dictate who you become. Pursuing him across Eldarn is not a healthy undertaking for anyone, not even for the best of reasons.’
‘But I have to tell them what I know. I have to tell someone about Carpello and his shipments.’
Nedra sighed deeply. ‘That’s true; you do.’
‘But I don’t know where to find the Falkan Resistance; it’s as if anyone who knows anything about them has been sworn to secrecy, or has no idea where they’ve gone. I can’t even find a pocket of disgruntled old men.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Nedra said. ‘Finding a pocket of old men in this city, disgruntled or not, has been my goal for quite a while.’
Brexan laughed. ‘You old slut.’
‘Ageing slut, my dear. I’m an ageing slut; I’m not old yet.’ Nedra finished her tecan. ‘You’ll find them. There’s a wonderful vein of gossip running right along our street, as reliable as the tides. Some of it is nonsense, pure grettan shit, but you’ll hear something, catch a word here or a gesture there, and you’ll reconnect with your friends; I’m sure of it. But you can’t make it happen.’
‘You sound like-’
‘Like your mother? Good. I think I would like your mother.’ Nedra started towards the stairs. ‘There’s tecan on the stove. Try not to set it on fire. I’m going to rest for an aven or two while you plan my surprise party.’
Hannah watched through the window of the Wayfarer Inn as the young Ronan pissed in the street. He was a South Coaster (she thought there must be something pejorative about that term), and couldn’t have been more than four years old – twenty-eight Twinmoons, younger than Milla – but there he was, leggings down, tunic pulled up over his stomach, leaning back dramatically as he splashed the cobblestones. A pair of elderly Malakasian women hurried past, silver-haired clones, cloaks flapping, carrying canvas bags of vegetables, flour and smoked meat. They scurried behind the boy, all but snarling their disgust, but he didn’t care. He finished relieving himself with a flourish, adjusted his clothing and watched them move away.
Hannah poked her head out the front room door. ‘Hey, cheeky, you ought to do that inside; you’re going to catch pneumonia.’ She deliberately used English, and loudly enough to be heard by the frowning women. Don’t like foreigners, girls? Well, I’ll show you foreign.
The boy, confused, took off down the road, disappearing into the crowded marketplace.
Hannah smirked. Lingering a moment with the door open, she watched her breath cloud in the wintry air. It was a perfect day in Pellia, with cobalt-blue skies and a breeze from the north, cold but fresh. The sun didn’t hang around long during this Twinmoon, but there was something about the northern air that made sunny days brilliant. From their new base – Alen insisted they change inns periodically – she could see right into the waterfront market, a bustling hive of stores and wooden carts used as stalls. The market was convenient for supplies and, even better, for information.
Hannah hoped they might stay on at this inn for a while. The rooms were comfortable, the food good and plentiful, and the proximity to the sea a refreshing change from the forests, swamps and fields they had called home for the past two Twinmoons. She silently promised to get Hoyt out today; some fresh air would do him good.
‘You shouldn’t hold the door open like that,’ a curt voice interrupted Hannah’s thoughts.
‘Oh, right, sorry,’ she said, allowing it to close softly behind her. ‘Sorry.’ She turned to see a teenage girl in an apron carrying a tray loaded with dirty trenchers and goblets. The girl was rail-thin; her dirty-blonde hair was tied in a ponytail and tucked inside her tunic.
‘It’s just that you were letting in a draught,’ the girl explained. ‘My father complains all the time about how hard it is to keep this place warm. I thought-’
‘No, no,’ Hannah interrupted, holding up her hands in surrender. ‘You’re right; my mother says exactly the same thing back home.’
The girl adjusted her tray, holding it now with two hands. ‘I’m Erynn. My father calls me Rinny.’ She scowled.
Hannah smiled. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Erynn – but shouldn’t you be in school today?’
‘Yes, but I’ve got to work. My mother had to go to Treven – my grandda’s sick; he’s old. I’m only ninety-three Twinmoons, seven more to go before I’m done with school, but I think my father’s going to pay to send me back for another fifteen Twinmoons. But what’s the point? I mean, I’m just going to end up working here, right? What do I need all that schooling for, anyway?’ She glanced disdainfully at the dirty trenchers.
‘Erynn, you should go to school for as long as they’ll let you stay. If your father’s prepared to pay for you to stay on, then do, for as long as possible,’ Hannah said emphatically.
‘But why would I? All my friends-’
Hannah interrupted again, saying, ‘Trust me, Erynn, this is absolutely the right thing to do.’
Erynn had dull hazel eyes, and bags were forming beneath them; Twinmoons working in the smoky front room had not been kind. She tilted her head to one side, considering Hannah. ‘You’re not from Pellia, are you?’
‘No,’ Hannah said. ‘And, sorry, I’m rude. My name is Hannah Sorenson. I’m from Praga.’
‘What’s that language you speak?’
Hannah hesitated. ‘Oh, that’s… well, that’s a dialect from- Well, from Southwest Praga, pretty far from here.’
‘I’d like to go there,’ Erynn said dreamily, ‘and to Rona, too, someplace warm – but I have to finish school first.’
‘That’s the really smart thing to do,’ Hannah repeated. ‘We’ve been travelling a long time to get here.’
‘I know,’ Erynn smiled, shifting the tray again, obviously wanting to stay and chat with the woman. She was attractive, even though she was old. ‘I heard you talking with that man over there. I didn’t mean to listen in; my father gets angry, but sometimes you can’t help overhearing things.’ She nodded to where Hoyt and Alen were sitting together, watching Milla finishing her meal. She whispered, ‘He’s cute; don’t you think so?’
Hannah laughed. Erynn had to be talking about Hoyt. ‘Uh, I hadn’t really thought about it, but yes, I suppose he is cute.’
‘How old is he? You two haven’t stood the tides together, have you? Uh, I mean, he’s not-’
‘No, he’s not,’ Hannah assured. Calculating quickly, she figured Erynn was about thirteen. She wasn’t surprised that Hoyt’s wiry frame and ruddy, unkempt good looks had captured the girl’s attention.
‘I want to stand the tides with someone someday. And I’ll wear a shorter dress. I’ve seen some of the women when they stand the tides and their dresses are all wet for the rest of the day. Lots of couples stand the tides over on the little beach across the inlet; we see them sometimes. The women wear long dresses, and the bottom bits get all soaked. I’m not going to do it that way.’
Hannah guessed standing the tides was the Eldarni equivalent of marriage. She wasn’t surprised that a thirteen-year-old was preoccupied with the details; she recalled, with some embarrassment, paging through bridal magazines when she was that age – after all, it was never too early to find the perfect dress.
‘I need to get back to work,’ Erynn said, struggling with the tray. She blushed. ‘You won’t say anything to him, will you?’
‘Of course not,’ Hannah promised. ‘I was thirteen once, too.’
‘Thirteen?’ The girl sounded aghast. ‘I’m ninety-three last Twin-moon!’
‘Right, sorry, ninety-three,’ Hannah said. ‘Don’t worry, Erynn, I won’t say a word.’
‘It has to be that bark,’ Hoyt said, scooping up a fingerful of potato.