chapter 9

Compared Calydon's cities and merchant towns, Agres was neither large nor special, but it was well designed for its purpose. The entirety of the town sat on one street, the space broad enough to fit carriages from all directions. Illuminated by torchlight, taverns, stables and supply shops lined the cobbled street. At the center stood what was perhaps the most exciting feature of the outpost town; a large fountain where water from a natural spring bubbled up and pooled at the bottom. According to myths in the old tongue, Agres was a water spirit who lived in the spring around which the town had been built. Despite the kingdom's loyalty to the new god Sŏnne, the old ways were stubborn so close to the northern border, and a moss covered carving of Agres still stood at the top of the fountain.

Based on the volume of unhitched carriages and the noise that vibrated out of nearby buildings, Rory and the others were not the only ones to weather the night in the busy outpost town. As snow continued to fall, landing on her shoulders in loose clumps, Rory was eager to get Jewel put up for the night and the prospect of a warm meal had become intoxicating.

Fortunately, it had been easy to find room at a nearby inn, the building offering accommodations for both the travelers and their horses. A warm stall piled high with straw awaited Jewel, and Rory toweled off a snow flecked hide as the mare munched on her hay and a loaf of steaming horsebread. As she left the stables, she reached into her pack and tossed the stablehand two sylfring, ensuring that he'd look after Jewel while she found a warm meal and a place to sleep.

Walking into the tavern next door had been an assault to the senses. Travelers shouted and laughed, fires blazed, and a bard danced in long slippers, singing in the old tongue and strumming a lute. Had Rory not been so cold, tired and hungry she may have protested against the raucous display but now, she savored the warmth and wished only for a place to sit to rest her tired legs.

"I'm so hungry I could eat the king's entire stable", Bianca joked next to Rory. Lit up by the multiple fires in the room, her friend's hair glowed and her eyes sparkled, as if calling to the dancing flames. Nicolas handed her a pint of ale that he'd fetched and she smiled at him, their eyes locking for a frozen moment. Again, Rory witnessed a connection that neither seemed to acknowledge. Drawing her attention away, Albert offered Rory her own pint and she nodded her thanks. And then he spoke, seemingly unaware of what, if anything, transpired between his sister and his friend.

"Of all that have ridden with us, you keep up the best", he said, clasping Rory on the shoulder in a brotherly manner. The Skepmadyr in her yearned to retaliate at his touch and the dull aching that throbbed through her entire body threatened to make her wince but somehow, Rory managed to do neither. Instead, she merely followed the others to the closest table, unsure where else to go or what else to do.

"So what now?" Rory dared to ask, her throat hoarse from gasping at cool, dry air all day.

"We keep riding south of course", Albert answered as he took a swig of ale. By now, Rory had learned to tell when the redhead was kidding around, his green eyes shining with amusement.

"I think she knew that much", Bianca scolded, "perhaps the bard will take a break and you can try your humor on the others."

Albert scoffed and Rory couldn't help but snicker and his sister's wit. Across the table, Nicolas didn't laugh, but for a second his eyes appeared a bit lighter.

"As long as the snow doesn't fall too heavily, I say we continue our journey tomorrow. We can restock in the morning, but best to keep moving before we lose our race to the winter."

Rory nodded her agreement, and so did the others. It seemed that she wasn't the only one that was too tired to hold a conversation. And when plates of steaming food were placed on the table, any attempts at a conversation ceased completely.

Rory did not wait to see what the others did as she dug into her bowl of pottage, and tore off a piece of the generously sized bread roll that accompanied it. The pottage seemed to be a brew of meat, vegetables and barley but she did not care what it was made of or how it tasted, only that it warmed her from the inside out. Any further selectivity was a luxury that she could not afford.

Fortunately, it did not appear that the others had shown any more reservation, and for a moment, Rory simply savored the warmth of the building and the meal that filled her. She had become too tired to worry about anything at all. Even the poignant concern that she'd felt upon seeing an upside down crown etched into the sign for Agres felt like a distant memory.

***

When Rory and the others finished their meal, the tavern owner, a robust, middle aged man, pointed them up a set of creaky stairs to the bedrooms. Below, shouts, laughter and the singing bard could still be hard. But Rory didn't care. The bed that filled the room before her held the entirety of her attention.

"Do you care which side?" Bianca asked as she stripped down to a linen shift. Due to a shortage of rooms, the group had been made to share rooms for the night, Albert and Nicolas in one room, Bianca and Rory in the other.

"No", Rory answered honesty, "You?"

Bianca shook her head as she bound her hair into a loose braid behind her back.

Rory nodded and settled into the bed, eager to find rest at last. Rarely did she ride as hard as she did today, and she had already begun to feel the effects. She was not looking forward to the aches and pains that the next day would bring but like everything else, it was an issue for tomorrow.

"Your eyes", Bianca said as she drew up the blanket on her side of the bed. "I've never met someone with exactly the same color. After we complete this job, maybe we can help you track down your family. Or at least find out what happened to them."

On her side of the bed, Rory sleepily watched the show as it continued to flurry outside. Bianca's words hit her slowly and rested heavily, like the pelt of a heavy rain. Unsure what to say, Rory had meant to reply, but sleep overtook her, true and deep. Cushioned by the bed and sheltered by a roof and a blanket, she did not stir once, as if her body were savoring the rare luxuries that the night afforded her.

Only when a piercing sound split the snow shrouded night, did she wake. She recognized that sound immediately; she'd heard it only once before and had begged whatever god was listening to never hear it again. It seemed, she realized as she gasped with horror, that her prayers had not been answered.