"Wouldn't you be more comfortable near the fire?" he asked, craning his head to one side.
"I... I don't like fire much."
"You didn't get to dry off properly," Daron said. He pushed away the memory of her standing half submerged in the river. "At least warm up a little. You're shivering."
"I'm fine," she said, and then lapsed again into silence. After a moment, she said, "About six months ago, I went with my uncle to town. I told you I didn't get to go there very often, so I was always excited when he let me come along.
"We had visited the inn. My uncle was selling some of his livestock to the butcher and innkeeper in Jedhom, and they were discussing business over drinks. There... was a fire. My uncle and I got out, as well as the innkeeper." She rolled up onto her side to face him. Her shining copper eyes were the only feature he could make out clearly in the darkness. "A lot of people didn't, though. Another five made it out, but a dozen others weren't so lucky."
"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, unsure how to respond to something like that. She nodded, and then rolled to her feet, brushing the back of her borrowed pants. Daron followed suit, and they stood, staring back at camp. Aiden was stirring a pot that was suspended above the flames by a collapsible tripod, Brynn and Jarod sitting on firewood beside. Leah watched the scene, her face unreadable.
"We should get some food at the very least," he continued. Without a word Leah nodded and set off for camp. Daron lingered for a moment longer, casting a final glance to the sky above before following.
The next day, Jarod set a fast pace overland, heading southwest. The weather held, though dark clouds promised rain sometime in the near future. There was very little conversation as they plodded along, and with each step Aiden's face seemed to grow darker like the clouds gathering above.
A few hours before sunset their path crossed a dirt road, sprouts of grass and wild chamomile growing out of it. Without a word Jarod angled along it, and a short time later it passed into a sparse forest. The wind picked up and drove at them, carrying with it a hint of winter that would be upon them in a few short weeks.
Through the skeletal trees that were barely keeping their fall coverings they came to a vast clearing. Daron wasn't sure what the house of a former teacher at the Order might look like, but he was certain it shouldn't look like this. He could make out the original house, an ancient and decrepit building hardly more than a shack in size. Additions had been tacked on to three sides, varying greatly in size and building materials, with a look of having been cobbled together over a number decades. Building materials littered the ground around the odd house, piles of bricks or long boards heavily warped by years of soaking up water. A single rusty bike leaned against one wall, thick grass strangling halfway up the frame, while a chubby calico cat rested on a mangled canvas tarp.
"Not a word," Jarod warned. Brynn was clearly suppressing a grin, but bowed respectfully as they made their way to the front door, poorly hung in its frame. Jarod pounded on it.
The door snapped open, and a wrinkled face cropped with sparse snowy white hair peeked out. His eyes caught Daron by surprise. They were crystal blue and alert, showing no sign of age at all. They were eyes that missed nothing. They flicked across the group assembled on his front porch, and narrowed.
"I thought you had more sense than this," Seth muttered, and then held the door wide for them. They funneled in, and Daron soon saw that the inside was in a similar state as the outside. Paper was stacked everywhere there was a free surface, balanced precariously on top of tables, chairs and the floor. Books were scattered about as well, most open and face down atop a stack of paper somewhere. The only thing not covered by a mountain of research was an older style printing press stuffed into one far corner.
"You're back leading a team I see," Seth said, fetching a gnarled wooden cane from beside the door. He gestured at a couch and a few chairs with it. "Well, have a seat then and let's get this nonsense sorted out."
"This is Daron, Brynn and Aiden," Jarod said, gently lifting a sheaf of papers off a long leather couch and placing them atop another stack on a table set beside it. He cleared another seat, which Leah took. Daron moved a handful of thick musty tomes from a small chair to sit, while Brynn and Aiden both stood. Brynn was reading the spines of every book she could find, her eyes alight with glee, though Aiden leaned against a wall with arms crossed and a frosty chill set into his face.
Seth walked over to Daron, each step punctuated by the sharp thump of his cane on the hardwood floor. He peered down with careful scrutiny, but Daron met the brilliant blue eyes unflinchingly.
"Yes, I see what you mean," Seth said, apparently mollified. Daron blinked, confused. Jarod apparently had recent communication with the former Justice.
Seth glanced over at Aiden. "That the swordsman?"
"Justice Aiden," Aiden said. Daron heard him put a slight emphasis on the Justice. If Seth seemed to notice, he gave no indication, nodding his withered head and moving on. He smiled warmly at Brynn, though she ignored him in favor of his collection of tomes.
"And this is Leah," Jarod said, gesturing to the young woman seated across from him on the couch. The former teacher glanced at her for a moment, his eyes going wide. He squatted down before her with two twin reports from his knees, and took her hand in his own weathered fist.
"My dear girl!" Seth exclaimed, a look of pure rapture wiping away the dour attitude he'd had. He peered deeply into her copper eyes, and she recoiled slightly, but after a second Daron saw her shoulders relax ever so slightly. "Oh, you are such a gem, young one."
Seth snapped his head around to glare at Jarod. "I can almost forgive your complete lack of judgment in coming here, Jarod."
"At least he agrees with me this was a bad idea," Aiden muttered.
Brynn tugged a book from a stack, nearly toppling it in the process. She caressed the leather binding for a moment before flipping through the printed pages. She seemed completely oblivious to the conversation about her.
"This is a marvelous place you have, sir," Daron said, feeling the need to try and deflect the conversation. Aiden looked fit to burst if he had to be kept there much longer.
"You mean for a marvelous place for a disgraced heretic," Seth said.
"I didn't mean it like that, sir."
"No, you meant it like that. You're just polite enough not to say it in that fashion. Built it all myself, over the years. I need another few rooms, but, well..." He held up a withered hand, flexing gnarled fingers, and shrugged. "Probably won't be around long enough to get much use out of extra space anyway I suppose."
"You have Gamren's Treatise of the Founding here," Brynn breathed, sliding another thick leather-bound book out of a stack and dropping to the floor. It creaked as she opened it in her lap.
"A book banned for a very good reason," Aiden said. "It's filled with vehement and untrue statements about the Order."
"That's nonsense," Brynn scoffed. "If you'd read it, you'd know it's harmless and was banned because it uses absurd arguments. It's more about inciting people than actually having clear and concise issues."
"I have read it," Aiden said. "You can't properly defend a rule like that if you don't even know what's in it."
"You read a banned book?" Daron said, incredulous. "You're more likely to become a train robber than do something against the sacred rules."
"It's a banned book at school," Aiden said thinly, his patience obviously wearing away. "I didn't read it at school."
"This is a very interesting and enjoyable topic," Seth said, his voice bored and tired. "I think I'll enjoy it from another room." He held out a bony hand to Leah. "Would you care to come along, dear? There's much we should discuss, and you look like the sort that fancies good tea."
Leah gave Daron an uneasy look, and then gently took hold of their host's hand. He tucked it around one elbow as she stood, and he guided her down a hallway. Daron craned his neck to watch them depart. It looked like they went into a kitchen, but he couldn't see far into the room.
"Well, that answers one question," Jarod said.
"What's that?" Daron replied.
"He knows something about her unusual eyes. I'd remembered reading something about it, years ago, but couldn't recall exactly where. Seth forgets nothing. I was fairly certain he'd be able to tell me what it means."
"We came out here to find out why a criminal's eyes are a little off?" Aiden asked with a shake of his head, disapproval clear in his voice. "I suppose knowing more about her is important, in the event that we have to hand her over at some point."
"She's not a criminal," Daron snapped.
"I suppose she told you that?"
"She didn't need to."
Aiden held up his hands in defeat. "I'm not saying she is, and I'm not saying she isn't. I doubt she is a criminal, Daron. At least, not for something that would warrant all the effort that has been put into catching her. I misspoke, and I apologize."
Aiden paused for a moment, clearly weighing something further to say, and then added, "I don't think we should fully trust her, though."
Daron nodded, if only to end the conversation. He supposed his friend was right, but she seemed sincere. It was hard to argue with the fact that she was indeed being hunted, and needed help. Jarod obviously intended for him to get close to the puzzling young woman, and that required a certain amount of trust, but his judgment told him they knew next to nothing about her. He sighed. Sometimes he wished judgment would take a leave of absence.
Still, he was certain she'd lied to him about knowing why they were after her. No matter what, there was something lurking just below the surface. When she's ready to trust me further, she'll tell me, Daron thought. After all, it had only been a few days.
Jarod stood and stretched. "If you children are done bickering, I'm going to do some research." He exited the room down towards the kitchen, pausing briefly in the doorway to look in on Seth and Leah before vanishing from view. As Brynn was still locked inside the tomes she'd already discovered, and he had little desire to continue hashing out the same old argument with Aiden, he rose and carefully made his way after Jarod.
He stopped just before the open doorway into the kitchen, listening out of sight. He considered simply going in, but his curiosity got the better of him. He shouldn't listen in, he knew, but Jarod had said to keep an eye on her and learn more. He had a duty to protect her, after all, and he needed more information to do that. Feeling confident in his excuse, he strained to hear the soft conversation.
"So you see," Seth was saying, "it's nothing to worry about."
"I never knew," Leah whispered, barely loud enough for Daron to make out. "I can't thank you enough."
"Oh, meeting you is thanks enough, dear girl. It's nothing to be ashamed of in the slightest. I've done a bit of research in my wildly misspent youth. Master Yan, the Order librarian, used to argue incessantly with me about what it meant."
"I try not to think about it," Leah said.
"I wouldn't worry too much, dear," Seth replied. "All things work out, in the end."
Daron heard a stool scrape across stone. Figuring the conversation was at an end anyway, he turned the corner. The kitchen was large and filled with a comfortable heat, rolling off of the fireplace set in the far wall. Above it in the stone were two metal doors that would likely lead to an alcove for cooking bread. The flames in the hearth danced and roared fitfully, as if desperately trying to break the confines of the fireplace.
In the center of the room was a raised stone tabletop, at which Seth and Leah sat. It was covered in a fine layer of flour. Leah traced one finger through it, drawing a simple likeness of the fireplace and flames. She jumped as he entered, though Seth merely fixed him with those piercing blue eyes, expression unable to be read.
"Go on now," Seth said, creeping off his stool and fetching up his cane. Leah slid to the floor and bowed awkwardly to Seth, smiling at Daron lightly as she passed out of the room. Seth stood and faced him, hands clasped over the end of his walking aid, watching him.
"Do you like cats, son?"
Daron blinked. "Cats, sir?"
"Furry. Four legged. Incessantly lazy. It's a simple question."
"I had two while growing up. A tabby cat and a charcoal gray one, sir."
"Never mind the 'sir'," Seth said irritably, waving a hand at Daron in dismissal. "I was thrown out of the Order. No reason to stand on formality now."
He took a few steps forward until he was inches from Daron, though his bowed head only came to Daron's chin. He glared up, rubbing his chin in thought for a moment. "I don't trust someone who doesn't like cats," he declared, and then slid back a pace. Daron frowned. It occurred to him that their host might be a bit touched in the head.
"You snoop when you should wait," Seth said, punctuating the statement with a sharp jab of his cane into Daron's chest. Daron winced. "If she chooses to tell you, so be it, but skulking about and eavesdropping is a miserable way to build a friendship." Daron felt himself blush.
"You all are welcome to stay here tonight," Seth said, "though I expect Justice Aiden will seek to camp outside of the heretic's walls, lest I somehow fill his mind with heresies or other such nonsense. Now, if you'll excuse me, your esteemed commander is long overdue for a rebuke for the void-taken stupidity he's shown today." Seth shuffled towards the door.
"Si... Seth?" The old man paused at the threshold, waiting almost expectantly. It was only a logical question, Daron supposed.
"What sort of things were you teaching for them to throw you out?"
Seth smiled pleasantly, but his tone was tight. "Was wondering if one of you would ask. The answer is that it doesn't really matter. You'll find that 'heresy' is a convenient label for anything, if you truly want someone gone. I could have taught an approved lesson plan word for word and still been hauled out by my ear."
"That implies that since you could have, you didn't."
"Keen observation, but the answer still stands. It doesn't really matter. A student of mine informed the Lord Commander at that time of my 'questionable' teachings, and I was removed. I've made my peace with it. Sometimes, things happen for a reason." He paused, frowning. "Sometimes, there's no order to the chaos, though." Seth shrugged, apparently at himself, and wandered out of the room. Daron stood alone with his thoughts. Someone had betrayed the elderly man. He didn't think poorly of his stuffy friend, but it sounded exactly the sort of thing Aiden would have done if he'd been in that position. He couldn't fault the man for sticking to the rules, but he felt a sadness that someone Seth had trusted had betrayed him. He seems harmless enough, Daron thought. Crazy, but harmless.
Daron glanced down at the finger-drawn likeness of the fireplace that Leah had scribbled. The fire had died down from its fitful episode, gently dancing and cooking the bread he could now smell. He wiped away the image with one hand and cleaned up on a towel draped close at hand, and then went looking for Leah.
Chapter 11.
Upper Terris was a proper urban city, sprawled across several dozen square miles of terrain. Daron instantly hated it. They arrived two days of vigorous hiking later. The air was filled with the haze and stench of burned coals, both from houses and businesses, as well as the massive iron foundries across the river on the north side. Buildings towered and crowded about them as they made their way through absurdly packed streets, dodging horse drawn carts, bicyclists and pedestrians alike. The noise was terrifying in volume, the mingled conversations, shouts from vendors hawking wares and thousands of other sounds threatening to drive him deaf.
Many of the streets were covered in a layer of filth, a mixture of mud, trash and leavings from the thousands of horses that filled the streets. Sweepers slid along at random intervals, shoveling the grime into grates that presumably led to the sewers below. The denizens of the city seemed to pay the filth little mind, going about their business in long coats and fine dresses. A sea of rounded hats and fancy canes swirled about them. Definitely a city worth hating, he thought.
The buildings were taller than he'd ever seen. Some reached a dozen stories in height, covered in beautiful bronze statues, patina-stained copper domes, and glass reflecting the sunlight, causing the city to glow depending on which angle you looked. A single iron and glass building rose from the tallest hill in the city, visible from almost anywhere, affixed at the top with a clock so large that the hands were larger than a man was tall.
"Our contact is a seamstress?" Brynn said as Jarod reined them in before a large three story building. The swaying sign read 'The Threaded Needle', depicting a spool of thread and long sewing needle, though the paint was worn nearly away. Despite being daytime two electric lights hummed beside the door.
The front of the shop was filled with fine dresses and suits of the current fashion, set up carefully on wooden dummies meticulously placed about the front area. Daron's eyes went wide as he read some of the prices. There were a few suits on display worth half a year's salary for him. He glanced down at his own fading coat and worn vest, tie undone and loosely swinging from his neck. It seemed absurd to pay so much for a jacket.
An open walkway passed behind the counter, where Daron could see a dozen men and women hunched over large sewing machines. The rhythmic tapping as the machines went about their work was almost as loud as the streets outside had been, yet somehow more soothing.
A wiry young man stood behind the counter, his spectacles slid far down his nose, and bowed respectfully as they entered. "Good afternoon, my Lord Justice," he said to Jarod. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
"I need to speak to Tel," Jarod said. The young man's smile didn't falter an inch, but Daron saw his eyebrows twitch for a brief moment. He bowed again and asked them to wait before exiting into the back.
"These are quite nice," Brynn said, fingering a long ruffled emerald gown. Leah wandered through the shop slowly, taking in each dress with a measured glance. Daron wondered if she'd ever seen much finery, given she'd rarely left her farm. He wondered how she'd look in the deep maroon dress in the front window, but laughed at the thought silently. Given her affinity with the sword and her demeanor, he couldn't imagine her in something so elegant. She seemed much more about functionality than frivolous pursuits.
"They're exceptional," Leah breathed. "Such amazing work."
"Yet another place where the Order has the best work," Brynn said.
Leah glanced up, letting the pleated dress tumble from her fingers. "I don't understand."
"If you want to work with your hands, the best place is for the Order," Daron said. "The best a" and most highly paid a" artisans are directly employed by the church. Stone cutters for new churches. Copper-smiths, marble workers, painters, even carpenters. The church always needs new talent, so if you like to work with your hands, get sponsored by the church."
"What about personal projects?"
"Not much of a demand," Daron said with a shrug. "If you want a marble statue, odds are it's going to be of one of the gods, or Harwyn the Just, or something. People want paintings of the Founding."
"I think I'll stick with stabbing people."
"A lucrative career option," Daron grinned.
A few minutes later a rotund man pushed past the counter, eyeing each of them in turn. His expression was on of weary resignation. Finally he offered out a hand to Jarod, who clasped it and gave it a warm shake.
"Let's go up to my office before we talk," Tel said, motioning for them to follow. They passed through the room where the workers plied their craft, and up a rickety flight of stairs at the back of the building. At the end of a narrow hallway Tel pushed open a door into a small but well decorated room, nearly every available inch of wall covered in vibrant paintings. He carefully squeezed around the edge of his desk and dropped heavily into a thick leather chair.
"So, you're the ones Jacob managed to scrounge up," Tel said, shaking his head. He slid open a drawer and yanked out a bottle of whiskey and a squat glass, splashing some of the amber liquid into it. "Try to be less conspicuous. Buy some coats to hide those Oathblades. I don't need my cover blown. Might even give you a discount."
"Is the man running the counter with the Order?" Daron asked. "He saw us come in."
"Breddon is just a damn fine tailor. He's trustworthy, though."
"Lord Commander Jacob gave me very little information before sending me out here," Jarod said, taking a seat in a small chair before the desk. "He wanted me to give an assessment unbiased by previous reports."