A moment later, a low, hunched figure rounded the bend in the road and pulled up short as she saw Gantalla standing there. It was a woman – quite advanced in years, from the wrinkles on her face – but her cart, Gantalla was relieved to note, carried nothing more than sticks and branches. She’d been out collecting firewood, no doubt.
Forcing a smile, Gantalla started walking again, meaning to simply pass the woman by with a polite ‘good morning’.
The woman, however, seemed to have different ideas. “Well, you’re a long way from home,” she said, with a toothy smile, as Gantalla reached her. “What on earth is a young thing like you doing all the way out here?”
Gantalla’s mind raced as she tried to think of an answer. “I’m going east. To visit my brother,” she said, blurting out the first excuse that came to mind. “I’m afraid I might be a little bit lost.” Perhaps if she said so, then this woman could tell her more about where she was?
“East to Azertel or east to Palashran?” the woman asked.
Were those the names of cities? And if they were, how was she supposed to know which one to pick? “To Palashran,” she said, hoping she’d chosen the right answer.
“Oh, then you’re well and truly lost,” the woman said, with a sympathetic smile. “This here is the road to Azertel. Beautiful city, nestled at the base of those great mountains over there.” She pointed to the snow-capped peaks in the distance. “But to get to Palashran, you have to go back through the city. You came out too far to the north, I’m sorry to say.”
“Oh. Well… oops.” Damn it. “Well, I suppose I’ll just-”
“My name’s Elria,” the woman said, interrupting her. “You’re a rich girl, aren’t you?”
Gantalla looked down at her stained shirt and dusty cloak. “What makes you say that?”
Elria raised a haughty eyebrow and snorted. “Those shoes, my dear, werenotdesigned for walking.”
Gantalla looked down. Indeed, they weren’t. They were court shoes, with thin soles and ribbons woven along the sides. Not that you could see the ribbons now, beneath the layer of mud. “No, well, I…”
“Come on. I’ll take you back to Minia,” Elria said, grabbing her hand and tugging her back the way she’d come. “The city’s an easy place to get turned around, but I’ll set you right. And while you’re there, you can buy yourself some new boots. You’ll never make it to Palashran in those things.”
Gantalla froze for a moment… then forced herself to nod. “Thank you,” she said, hoping she sounded sincere. The city was the last place in the world she wanted to go, but she could hardly just change her mind now, having already said she was heading for Palashran. And she didn’t want to arouse any suspicion.
But getting stuck in a city full of humans might be even worse.
She didn’t have to stay there long, she reasoned. Elria would show her the right road, then she could give the woman the slip and be on her way, boots or not. Besides, it wasn’t like she had any money to pay for them.
Or maybe she should ask Elria about somewhere to find work? Would that sound strange, when she was supposed to be on her way to visit her supposed brother?
Elria, though, seemed to think nothing of her silence, ignorant of her inner turmoil. “Although, while you’re here,” she said, as Gantalla fell into step beside her, “you should stay for the festival. The gate closed just yesterday and everyone will be celebrating. Don’t worry, you haven’t missed it,” she went on, happy to fill the silence while Gantalla just nodded. “The festival goes on for at least five days. There’ll be a feast in the town square. And you’ll get to see all the warriors. Mmm hmm, such fine men I’ve never seen in all my life. I tell you, if I was thirty years younger, I’d likely try to nab one for myself. But you, though…” She gave Gantalla a sharp look. “You’re young enough to get one of them to pay attention to you. And pretty, too. Well, maybe after you’ve had a bath. You’re not married?”
“No, I’m not,” Gantalla said automatically.
“Well, play your cards right and you might just land yourself a husband. And never want for anything ever again. The townsfolk shower the warriors with gifts, all through the time the gate’s closed. By the time they retire – assuming they live that long – they all end up with fine houses, piles of jewels, more silver than you can poke a stick at. Some of them even get horses.”
Gantalla opened her mouth to ask what a horse was… and then abruptly shut it again. A human would know what a horse was. “Sounds wonderful,” she said instead. But inside, she shuddered. Marrying one of those violent beasts? One of the men who’d slaughtered her kin?
But then again… Perhaps that might be the answer to one of her problems, she realised, even as distaste made her queasy. As the wife of such a man, she wouldn’t have to worry about work, or money, or food…
Well, she didn’t have to make any decisions right now. She would just follow Elria and learn what she could, then she could figure out more of a plan once they reached the city.
“Where are you from?” Elria asked, suddenly changing topic, and Gantalla had another little moment of panic.
“Far to the south,” she said. “A long way away.”
“Oh, you mean Gadash?”
Was that a city? Or a region? Or a country? Gantalla shrugged, trying to hedge her bets. She’d already made one mistake with the names of these human cities. “It’s a small farming town. No one around here would have heard of it.”
Elria laughed. “Doesn’t matter. If it’s within a two day walk of Gadash, then as far as everyone here is concerned, you’re from Gadash.”
“Fair enough,” Gantalla said, taking the easy way out. “I’m from Gadash, then. But I’d love to hear more about this festival,” she said, hoping to change the subject to something less personal.
“You must have heard of it,” Elria said. “Everyone knows about the warriors of the gate.”
