He glances at me, and I catch a hint of amusement. “I don’t mind. You take care of your bedroll, make sure the fire is fully out.”
Teamwork.Right, that’s what this is supposed to be. Gonna have to work on that. “Okay, but be careful with Mortimer.”
He pauses. “I’m sorry, did—did you name your horse Mortimer?”
“Sure did.” I cross my arms. “Prior Petronilla wouldn’t let us name the horses at the Cloister, but she’s not here and my new horse friend is. Got a problem with it?”
Another probing, quizzical look. But he shakes his head.
“Good, because your horse is named Buttons.” I start for my bedroll, but he remains where he is. “What?”
“Nothing… it’s only that you’re not quite what I expected my Dawn counterpart to be.”
I can’t say the same. Pious, focused, driven,devoted… Nolan is everything Prior Petronilla probably wishes she could have offered up.
“Does that make you more or less glad that we aren’t going head-to-head against one another?”
But apparently, we’ve reached the limit of sharing, because instead of replying, Nolan turns away and begins busying himself with the horses.
Nine
I found the village today, deep in the woods, over a week’s journey north of Ignarin. It could barely be called a village. A settlement really, likely no more than a season or two old. I saw no one, but the hearths were still warm, so they weren’t far. I waited for hours before leaving. I have marked my map. In another season, I will return, and bring the Goddess’s love once more.
—from the diary of the Cleric Caroso
OUR TRAVELS ARE, INa word, quiet.
I don’t bother trying with small talk, content to take in the sights that unfold with a pleasant newness. A bubbling stream, a large rock, a pasture of grazing cows… mundane as they are, they are not the gray walls of the Cloister or the oppressive loom of the Cathedral. I am not choked by the thick perfumes of the devoted or the sweaty reek of a hard day’s training. I am not watched. I am not constantly measured. I breathe easier, in a way I must have known at some point but can’t recall when I last experienced.
The thoroughfares we follow wind themselves through the Devoted Lands. At each crossroads, cut stones point the way: to Aerdis, to the north and west, where the Bellators gather and train their legions; east to Siscia, the city governed by the Clerics of the Blood; to the smaller towns and villages that fill in the gaps between the Ordained Cities. And always,always, back to Lumeris, beating heart of the Goddess’s empire.I note each option with a twinge of curiosity. I know these names like I know my own, but only as spots of ink on a map. Now, they take on a fuller existence, as tangible as the other travelers we pass along the road, who smile warmly as they call out “May the Flame warm you.” It’s a refreshing change from the cautious, isolating reverence of the Cloister attendants and citizens of Lumeris. I return the greetings, as does Nolan, albeit with far less enthusiasm.
The sun is high in the sky when we round a bend of road to find a small wagon leaning precariously to one side. It stands out from the surrounding forest like an exotic bird that’s gotten lost; swaths of bright colors streak the exterior beneath a shockingly purple roof. Squatting by its back end is an older, bony man in a threadbare coat, leaning fruitlessly on a metal bar wedged beneath the wagon’s body. Quickly, I see why: The spokes of the back wheel have splintered. A replacement sits nearby.
He looks up as we approach, cheeks flushed with exertion, smiling broadly and hopefully.
I pull Mortimer to a stop. “Do you need some help?”
Nolan stops as well, though I can tell by his bearing that he’d prefer to keep moving, as the man clasps his hands together, wringing them dramatically. “May the Flame warm you and more. The Goddess has answered my prayer!” He spins, gesturing at the mule hitched to the wagon. “Lulu and I were beginning to think we’d be stuck here all night. The ruts in these roads! They get worse every year. Can’t go anywhere without half a wagon’s worth of extra parts, I swear to the Goddess!”
I dismount. Up close, the colors painting the wagon are even more vivid, the abstract designs nothing like the ornate but solemn stylings I’m used to. “I love your wagon; did you do the painting yourself? It’s so…” I search for the right word. “Alive.”
“Oh,” chuckles the man. “An offer of helpanda kind lie. Too generous, my dear, but I’m certain you’ve seen a hundred other tinker’s carts with a finer presentation than this humble pile of sticks.”
Except I haven’t. I smile, as if caught in a polite mistruth. If such wagons were allowed in Lumeris, it certainly wasn’t anywhere close enough to the Cathedral complex for me to be familiar with them.
“But while my adornment may be lacking, my selection of goods is unparalleled in the Devoted Lands.” He goes to the side of the wagon and throws open a hinged panel, revealing shelves packed full with all manner of goods. “Anything you need. Soap. Reveries. New saddle straps. Tools of both iron and steel. Authentic embroidered fabrics from the Riverlands. I even have a sauce made from peppers carried across the Unlit Seas.” He leans in and drops his voice. “They say the only thing hotter is the divine flame itself.”
“We don’t need anything.” Nolan cuts in before I have a chance to inquire more about the gourmet delicacy. His tone is curt, but he’s dismounted as well, giving me aLet’s get this over withglare as the tinker closes up his wagon again. “Lys, help me lift the wagon.”
I obey, taking the end of the metal bar. We lean into it, the wagon bed creaking as it rises. Either one of us could have done this easily on our own. But the tinker doesn’t seem to notice our lack of effort as he removes the broken wheel and replaces it with a practiced efficiency.
“There!” He straightens again and grins. “Only one thing eases life’s trials as much as wealth, and that is the vitality of youth.”
“May the Flame warm you and the Goddess’s favor keep you safe,” Nolan says flatly, returning to the horses. “Lys. We need to keep moving.”
“Please. You must let me reward you for your kindness.”
Nolan scowls. “That’s not—”
