Thorn insisted they split the remaining water in their large skin into their four smaller skins (Thorn had two) and divvy the gear between the two of them. “You can’t be weighed down if you’re going to fight effectively.”
After Candor shouldered her pack, Thorn tied her compass to the top of her right strap and situated it under the flap behind her. “Now if you need it, you can just tug it and tuck it back.”
The little trio set off on the Way at a much quicker pace than the slopes of the Kotemor had allowed. Letti maintained a steady stream of small talk until the sun rose high enough and heated her into silence. Passing a few more towers, Thorn broke the trek for a midday meal of dried meat and fruit from his pack. They each finished a peach, and Thorn insisted that when they stop for the evening, they dehydrate the rest of their produce. “We should have done that last night,” he growled. His irritation aside, the girls were perfectly happy to consume one last bite of fresh fruit before their meals surrendered to desiccants.
About halfway through the afternoon, Letti began to limp. Her pace slowed, and Thorn finally called the group to a halt at the next tower. Climbing the circular staircase, he handed Candor the tarp and cord. Quickly, she dropped her pack and erected the snakeskin walls.
“Take off your boots.” Thorn grunted at Letti, who did what she was told.
Candor’s makeshift salve had long since worn through her socks, and Letti’s feet were raw once more. Tenderly, Thorn lifted one foot, and then the other.
“Your boots are too small.” He announced. “Did you bring any others?”
When Letti nodded, he bade her show him. She opened her pack and reaching to the bottom, extracted them.
“These weren’t yours.” Thorn stated. “Try them on for me.”
Letti slipped her feet back into her socks and into the shoes. Thorn pinched the toes.
“Much better.” He could squeeze a small space in front of her big toe. “You should never have boots that touch the top of your toes. You’ve seen the results of this.”
Letti slid her feet out again, and Thorn gestured for them again. “May I?”
She nodded, and he performed the same ritual he had on Candor’s feet. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Letti blushed.
Candor, utterly intrigued by Thorn’s majik, held her tongue, but questions burned in the back of her throat.
Thorn glanced up at her, amused, as if he could read her consternation.
“Candor, grab your sword. Letti whatever your weapon is. Let’s go down to the Way.” Thorn stood and unclipped his belt, heaving his broadsword over his shoulder and marching downstairs.
A flutter of anticipation danced in Candor’s stomach. She knew what came next; too many lessons with Mo had instilled in her a natural eagerness for conflict. Letti was not so sure.
“It will be fine.” Candor reassured her. She pressed a dagger into Letti’s hand and trotted down the staircase, sword raised.
Her caution paid off; as she had expected, Thorn’s broadsword slashed across at her as she exited onto the stone road.
Unaccustomed to the weight of the strike, Candor’s arm gave way, and she dropped her sword, somersaulting into Thorn’s reach. Quick as a snake, Candor snatched Thorn’s dagger from his belt and held it to his throat. She was not breathing hard.
Thorn grinned, and Candor stepped back, fierce smile mirroring his. “You’re trained.” His voice sounded warmer than Candor had yet heard it. “And you can read an opponent. That’s very good.”
“She’s had as much practice as you can give a seventeen-year-old.” Letti harrumphed from behind the two.
“Candor, give Letti your sword.” Candor did as she was told. “Now show her how to hold the grip, and how to set her wrist so that it will not break on strikes.”
Candor reminded Letti on the basics of grasping a blade as she had when they were kids. Letti had some cursory training, but had not held a sword in a long time. She remembered this as Thorn held his own sword up. “Try to attack me.”
Letti hesitated, then jabbed forward, faster than Candor had expected. Thorn easily parried, then had her try again. This time she slashed, and Thorn used his blade to catch Letti’s, twisting it from her hand in the process. Thorn then explained more tactical ways to approach a fight. After a few more instructions, Thorn directed Letti to practice the movements she had just learned.
Rounding on Candor, he appraised her. “Run up and grab your indigo sword.”
Candor froze, then slowly did as she was bade. At the top of the staircase, she picked up the sword. Even in the shadow of their tent, it seemed to glitter.
Returning to Thorn, Candor protested. “I’ve never fought with this before.”
“It is more than likely that you will.” Thorn did not give her a chance to reply.
He struck again, this time using the tip of his sword to drive Candor further away. His advantage lay in his strength and the swing of his arm. Candor’s lay in the lightness of her sword, and her quick feet and quicker mind. Two out of three times he bested her, but once more Candor placed her sword at his throat.
“Letti come back.” Thorn nodded approvingly at Candor as she moved aside for her friend. Quickly she ran up to the nest and grabbed their water skins. A sudden fright gripped Candor, and she resolved to bring the matter of their dwindling water to Thorn’s attention. They still had near to 250 span to walk on the Way. She needed to know what Thorn’s plan was. Only once had the village lost their water collection barrels after a storm, and it had been deadly. Candor shuddered at the memory.
Returning to the sharp clinking of Thorn and Letti, Candor leaned against the wall, stretching her arms. She would be sore tomorrow, she knew. She smiled to herself. This was a a good pain. Her body hadn’t stopped hurting since they’d left the village, but this was a most familiar ache, almost comforting.
Every few motions, Thorn would rap Letti with the flat edge of his sword and explain where she had left her guard open.
“Don’t swing so high up.” Thorn was instructing her now. He took her arm and showed her how big an opening such a strike left above her ribs. “Your strengths will mirror Candor’s. You are both small and fast, and you do not harbor the rage that men do.” Candor snorted, and Thorn looked up, irritated. “Do not mock me. Women are, on the whole, better fighters for this very reason. A man, if pushed mentally in a fight, is much more brittle than a woman. Women do not commit tactical errors for pride alone.” Thorn raised an eyebrow. “Most women.”
Candor blushed. Mo had often chastised her for the very same; she should never make combat personal.
“Letti, you will fight Candor now. Candor.” Thorn rounded on the white-haired girl. “Teach her. Do not beat her.”
Candor nodded. Drawing her sword, Candor faced her friend, draining all emotion from her mind. She noted the narrowness of Letti’s stance, the ease of unbalance. She noted the tremor in Letti’s hand, the fatigue in her muscles. She noted Letti’s eyes, fixed on her indigo blade, and Candor attacked.
After a short defense, Candor stepped back and explained to Letti why she attacked the way she did. “You need to widen your stance—no not that much—just enough that you can move without crossing your feet and that I cannot knock you over. A tree has a wide base and narrow top.” Candor demonstrated her own starting stance. “If you can’t hold your sword up for fatigue, let it drop. You can train to react fast enough from the low guard. And lastly, and this is the biggest one, do not watch my blade. Watch my chest or my hips. You watch my blade, I will feint all day.”
Letti nodded solemnly, and Thorn nodded approvingly. “You may sheath the swords.”
Candor wiped her sword once with her shirt, taking care not to slice the fabric, before returning it to its scabbard. Letti followed suit.
Thorn raised an eyebrow. “You clean after no blood?”
“We were raised by the sea.” Candor said simply. “Your swords rust quickly without cleaning the air from their edges.”
Thorn nodded. “Now the Aiadar.”
Both girls slipped into the first position. By the end of the dance, the sun cast lazy purple streaks across the sky, and at the far side of the world, a dark blue gave way to stars.
“I’ve never seen both sides of a sunset.” Letti took a draught from her water.
“You should see it from the Àstoriad.” Thorn gazed at the darkened half of the sky. “If you get high enough, you can see the blue, the pink, and the blackness.” Lost for a moment in his own memories, Thorn did not see Candor cross her arms.
“Thorn.” She began. “We need water.”
Returning to himself, Thorn sighed and turned to the girls. “We will get some.”
“How?” Candor asked. “We’re nearly out.”
For the first time since they had met, Thorn looked uncomfortable. “I’ll get some tomorrow.” Candor opened her mouth to press the subject, but Thorn shook his head. “No more, Candor.”
With a snap, Candor ground her teeth together, but endeavored to patience. He was the only reason they were alive after all. Thorn led the trio back up to their shelter and instructed the girls to unpack their last fruits and vegetables.
“Do you know how to dry for preserving food?” Thorn asked.
Both girls nodded, but seemed puzzled. “It usually takes more than a night, and,” Letti paused apologetically, “some sun.”
Thorn chuckled. “It does. We’re going to dry a bit differently.”
“With majik?” Candor asked, eyes glinting.
“With majik,” Thorn replied grimly. “I will be the conduit, and you will do exactly as I instruct you. Do I have your word?”
Both girls agreed, and Thorn appeared satisfied.
“Cut your produce into slices, like you normally would.” Thorn instructed. “I am going to create a fire. It’s pure heat, and it does not burn. It will not produce smoke. Place your slices on this.” Thorn rummaged around in his pack for a moment, before withdrawing a thin, flat piece of stone. “This will sit on top of the fire.”
“How long does the drying take?” Letti asked.
“Only a few moments.” Thorn said gravely. “Take care that you watch the pieces and do it quickly.”
“Does majik tire you?” Candor asked.
Thorn’s eyes flicked to her, and then away. “Not in the way you would think. It’s a question of focus. The longer you remain focused, the more likely you are to lose it and jeopardize everything around you.” He did not elaborate.
“Ready?” Thorn handed Letti the stone. “When the heat appears, place it on top and wait for the slices to dry. The stone is thin enough that the meat of the fruit will dry, not cook. I won’t speak, so you will have to estimate yourself.”
“What do you do when you don’t have someone to help you?” Letti asked.
Thorn made a face. “I make a fire. Or I risk it, depending on the day.”
Candor did not comment. Many of Thorn’s lessons were confusing and contradictory.
“It depends on how controlled I feel at that moment.” Thorn added, glancing at Candor. Without another word, Thorn knelt and stretched out his hands, so his palms faced towards the stone ground.
Both girls waited, stomachs flickering nervously. This seemed to be different than the majik Thorn had performed before.
A few words emanated from Thorn’s mouth, and suddenly an orange glow lit the space under his hands. Slowly, Thorn sat back, maintaining his arms outstretched, as if he were warming his hands by a fire. Then he brought them together, facing, but not touching. Orange light pulsed between his palms.
Letti quickly set the stone on the top of the glow, surprising both girls when it did not drop to the floor. Candor began to set the flesh of the fruit on the small plate. Almost as quickly as she started, Letti flicked the dried pieces off with the tip of her dagger, leaving space for Candor to replace the slices. The girls soon began sweating. The heat from the throbbing auburn glow did not increase temperature, but the snakeskin trapped warmth, in their focus they heated space, and the moments flew by.
Finally, after Letti had accumulated a sizeable pile of desiccated produce, Thorn mumbled a short word and extinguished the glow. The stone platter clattered to the floor. Thorn sat back, rubbing his eyes.
“Twins above.” Thorn muttered. “It’s been a while since I’ve held a spell that long.”
Candor and Letti wrapped the fruit in one of the excess shawls- “see I told you these would come in handy-” Letti smirked. “I never argued with you!” Candor retorted-and packed them in their bags.
Taking conservative drinks of water, the trio exited the tent for the path in the hopes that some of the heat would dissipate before they attempted sleep.
“Why didn’t we just do it down here?” Letti asked Thorn. He looked sleepy.
“I didn’t want to risk being seen.” Thorn replied, bending over and stretching the backs of his legs. “Until a few nights ago, I thought this part of the world entirely deserted. Then the two of you came along. Who knows what else, or who else, is out here.”
Letti shivered, but Candor considered Thorn, intrigued. “Like your monster?”
A curious look came over Thorn’s face, as if the sun had fallen behind clouds. “Like him. Though I don’t expect he could set foot on The Great Stone Way. Nor do I think he would be travelling south.”
Candor and Letti exchanged glances but did not press Thorn.
“Sing us a song, Letti.” Candor turned to her friend. Though she found Thorn irksome and irritatingly unpersuasive, she did not enjoy the dark sadness that sank behind his eyes.
Letti nodded and thought for a moment.
"On the boats made of bone
And the waves made of stone
Came Àeton the skeleton king
A being of no laugh, and once more no cry
His was sorrow sans tears.
He’d wandered the ocean,
Cursed from first breath
For a crime he’d not been
Alive to see
His father had taken
His mother’s first blood
And left her for dead under tree
The trees bore him and
Raised him, and sent him afloat
And told him come back when you can
If after a time, time is no more,
You’re flesh will find peace in our vines
And so he sailed, and so he travelled,
Until one day he died, but time would not leave him,
So he decayed, bones scrubbed clean by the brine.
When he returned, the land didn’t know him
The land that had offered him life
And finally he stepped off the boat on to sand
And time caught back up and he died."
The group sat in silence for a moment as Letti’s last quavering note drifted off into sultry air of the evening. Thorn seemed span and years away, and Candor was loathe to return him. She glanced at Letti, making a small movement with her lips as is if to say, another sad song? Really?
Letti shrugged. Her tiny movement seemed to bring Thorn back to the present. Unexpectedly, he smiled. “That was lovely, Letti.” He paused. “I’ve not heard that story in a long while.”
“You’ve heard it?” Candor asked. “I thought old Grita made that up.”
“It’s a riff on a different story, a true one, though I suppose Letti’s is true enough after a fashion.” Thorn gazed at the full moon, the silver in his hair glittering dully. “The Fae are considered the first beings of Icaria. They were born of the twins and existed in perfect harmony with the land and with time, really outside of time, until one day the humans landed on the eastern shores. North of the Citadel, in fact. The first ship was bone white, with perfectly white sails.”
Letti and Candor stilled, listening intently.
“The land entered time at that moment, because of the impending violence. But, and here’s the bit that seems to have passed out of memory, long, long ago, before memory, there were humans here. They were a small, barbaric people, and they lived in the south for the most part. They too lived in perfect harmony with the land, until one man raped a woman and left her to die at the feet of some trees.”
Neither girl breathed.
“The trees cared for her, for back then, there was only one language and all things spoke it, and the trees could tend to her as easily as one of her own kind. She gave birth to a son. He could not return to his tribe, for his mother was assumed dead, and he could not wander Icaria and cause chaos, for that was not the pattern of the world then, so he built himself a boat and sailed away. The humans died out shortly thereafter, it is assumed, due to the malice of this man and his imbalance with the way Icaria existed in time. But his son sailed around and created a new civilization away from Icaria, and, years and years and years later, sailed back.”
Thorn hummed a bit of the song lightly. “I don’t actually know if he came back as a walking skeleton, or if he came back at all. But it has a nice symmetry to it.”
Stars glittered in Candor’s eyes as something cold slid down her spine. Something in Thorn’s story vibrated some deep reservoir in Candor’s soul. She could not put words to it, so instead she breathed out.
“That’s a lovely story.”
“No, it’s dark and depressing, but it’s telling of the nature of beings.” Thorn grew dark and stormy again. “There are different versions where both the man and woman are elves, the woman is an elf and the man a human, and vice versa.” Thorn shrugged. “Not sure how much their provenance matters.”
Candor cast her head back and gazed at the stars. She was glad they were visible tonight; she took much comfort in their sameness.
A collection of golden stars stared back at her, and she smiled. She liked to think of those stars as hers.
“My moms said those stars appeared in the sky almost eighteen years ago.” Candor pointed to the tiny points of light.
Thorn followed her finger, and frowned. “I’ve never seen those before.”
Startled, Candor returned to earth and looked at Thorn. “How is that possible?”
“Well,” Thorn began slowly, “different constellations appear differently depending on where you are in Icaria. The northern constellations differ from the southern, the eastern from the west. But I’ve never seen these. Though,” he relented, “I’ve not been over this way in a while.” Thorn trailed off, lost in thought.
Finding the conversation of stars less interesting than obscure mythology, Candor yawned. “Shall we sleep?”
Rousing himself, Thorn nodded, and the three trooped up to bed.
The next morning, the little trio packed their camp, tied their boots, and set out once more along the Great Stone Way. Soon, the path began to dip as it ridged a spur down the far side of a mountain. Candor was privately glad; there was likely to be another stream at the bottom of this valley and she grew ever increasingly worried about their water supply.
Sure enough, as the Great Stone Way crossed the dark green dell, a thick stream rolled between the connecting spur.
“Thorn,” Candor called. The large man had walked a few paces ahead and was peering over the wall towards the sound of the water.
“Yes Candor.” Thorn looked up.
“We should stop here and fill our skins.” She felt relieved. The hot, prickly feeling in her throat had been creeping since that morning, but she was loathe to drink the last drops of her water without a source to replenish readily on the horizon.
“No.” Thorn said firmly, shaking his head.
“Why?” Letti gasped. She too was unpleasantly thirsty.
“This is the closest we’ve been to a water source since the—”
“Since the Baitrae attacked. Yes.” Thorn dropped his pack and began fussing with one of the curved lengths of his pack’s wooden frame. “Living things follow water. This is a truth as old as time.” Thorn stood, and Candor saw that he grasped the center of a short bow, which he deftly strung. Upon closer observation, Candor could see that the second half of the exoskeleton bore a built-in quiver. Suitably impressed, Candor remained quiet.
“Watch this arrow.” Thorn said grimly. He tied a long cord to the arrow, and notching the back end, pulled and released with a soft twang.
The arrow sang true until it was about halfway down the slope. Quick as a flash, so quickly Letti was almost unsure what she had witnessed, a grey hand reached up and grabbed the cord, snatching it out of the air. Thorn muttered a word, held still for a moment, and caught his arrow as it returned to him, making a curve much higher than its original trajectory. Catching it, he turned to Candor. “I do not know what those are.” He said simply. “I do not know if they have a name. But they strike fear into the very center of my heart, and there are not many things that I fear.”
Candor kept her silence and nodded. Thorn sighed. “I am trying to keep you alive.” He dropped his arrow back into its quiver, rolled his cord, and restrung his pack. “I will not keep you from the unresolved horrors of this land just to let you die of thirst.”
Candor smiled shyly. And Thorn’s beard twitched. “By the twins, you’re a stubborn one.”
“Thank you.”
Thorn rolled his eyes. “We will get to the far side of this dale and along the next peak. I will show you how to harvest water. Can you wait that long?”
Unwilling to say she desperately needed to wet her throat, Candor elected to trust Thorn, and drained the last of her skin. “Yes.”
“Good.”
The three set off again, Letti looking nervously behind them to the spot where the hand had appeared.
“You’re sure you don’t know what they are?” Letti asked Thorn. He glanced down at her, then back at the valley.
“I haven’t ever gotten close enough to actually see them.” Thorn adjusted his pack. “I spent some time in here, after I learned of my… affliction, and tried to die. Even with a death wish, something deep inside me forced me away from these beings. Off the Way I could hear them, I could hear them whispering, and they sound like—” Thorn stopped, as if he had choked on something, and tried to swallow. “They had the most beguiling voices, even muted. They whispered things to me that only I knew, as if they were reading my mind. They whispered things about people I knew, promising me I could see the dead.”
Candor paled.
“I did not travel any further. But,” Thorn cocked his head thoughtfully. “They did reinvigorate a certain will to live.”
“Why didn’t you tell us they were coming up?” Candor asked.
“There are some things best to learn after you have already passed them.” Thorn said simply.
Both Candor and Letti could appreciate this and pushed on to the far ridge.
At the top of the next peak, Candor and Letti were happy to see that the road ran along another ridge for several more span before it dipped again.
“Alright.” Thorn swung his pack down and gestured for the girls to do the same. “Grab your skins.”
Letti tripped as she struggled to hasten after Thorn. Candor grabbed her own waterskin, and, weighing her back and her abject fear of dehydration, the stomach of the Calenthari as well. Thorn descended the small staircase that mirrored the staircases up to the turrets. It smelled just like the one on which they had boarded the Great Stone Way. As they exited, Candor felt a sense of security leave her and wished she had strapped a sword to her belt. She vowed to buckle her scabbard the next time they descended for water.
Candor could tell Letti felt just as uncomfortable leaving the sanctity of the Way. Thorn led the girls to the very edge of the clearing, where the trees stopped growing abruptly to make way for the stone road. Thorn turned and held out his skin to Candor, who grasped it. The large man then jumped slightly, catching hold of a low hanging branch, and gently bent it to the mouth of his skin.
“Hold it steady. When it’s full, fill yours. Candor, don’t fill the stomach entirely. It won’t be useful to carry.” Thorn waited for Candor to nod before rolling the grasped leaf into a tight scroll. Closing his eyes and concentrating, Thorn muttered a short phrase, in which Candor was certain she heard a word Lola used to croon to the ocean.
Slowly at first, water began to trickle out of the leaf into Thorn’s waterskin. Quickly, it rushed into a thick stream, and Candor switched the skins out until they were all filled, the stomach half-filled and sloshing heavily. Candor and Letti then took turns catching the stream of water in their mouths, not wanting to waste the precious water they’d saved.
The water trickled off as Thorn opened his eyes and released the spell. He offered a rare smile to the girls. “Feel better?”
Both grinned. Taking the moment to relieve themselves in a place that did not involve squatting on the side of an elevated wall, the girls met Thorn back on the Way a few moments later.
“How did you do that?” Candor asked.
“I drew the water from the ground through the natural canals in the trees, through its leaves, and out to us.” Thorn replied, as it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“But,” Candor struggled to find the right words, “How did you do it?”
Thorn just shook his head, leaving Candor even more stymied than before.
That night, after a round of heavy sparring and a satisfactory dinner of dried tomatoes and fish, the trio fell fast asleep. Soon, the travelers fell into a natural pattern, walking near to 15 span a day, sparring in the evening, and harvesting water every third or fourth morning, depending on how dangerous Thorn assessed the surrounding woodline to be. After nearly ten days of this, Letti stopped sparring one evening, as a though struck her.
“What day is it?” She looked up, as if the moon would whisper a quick answer.
“I don’t know.” Candor deftly flicked Thorn’s feint and stepped back before he could counter. “It’s got to be close to Mithria.”
Letti and Candor began doing some short calculations. “I think it’s been nearly two full rotations.” Candor finally said.
“Rotations?” Thorn asked. This being the first time the girls knew something he didn’t, they turned to him, surprised.
“Every ten days we have three days of rest. A day for each twin’s birth, and a day for the parents’ recovery.” Candor explained. “Thirteen days is one full rotation. On the thirteenth day, we would gather as a village for a feast to restart the cycle. Mithria is the feast day.”
“Huh.” Thorn sounded appreciative. “I’ve not heard that one before. The cities follow an eleven-day week. Nine days of work and two days of rest. Probably a day for each twin, but now in many places it’s just custom.”
“That’s fascinating.” Candor said wistfully. “I’d love to see the cities of Icaria one day.”
Thorn snorted. “They’re usually dirty, packed with too many people, and reliant on the farmers outside their walls.”
“Be that as it may, you have seen them, and I have not.” Candor replied simply.
Thorn made to retort but thought better of it and shrugged.
“Do any other peoples follow different weeks?” Letti asked, curious. She found the idea that anyone could not live by a rotation quite odd. That was how time worked.
Thorn frowned, thinking. “The Nirans and the Zondarians in the deep south follow seven-day weeks, with two days of rest, one for their witch and one for their nun.” He thought some more. “The Fae don’t hold with time. They rest when they are tired and work when they have energy. They celebrate when they feel the time is right, and rarely mourn. Well—” Thorn corrected himself. “Rarely did they used to mourn. They have not celebrated in some time, and they probably mourn more than most now.”
Candor and Letti exchanged a look. “Anyone else?”
“The finches practice a two day on, two day off method of rest. But that’s because they have a funeral every few days and can’t work in the mines that long.”
“The finches?” Letti asked.
“The crazy divers of Rejad. The Hatch. When that disaster struck, the people who lived near there were exposed to the raw energy of majik. If they left that area, their skin would peel off and they’d die. So instead, they stayed there, and their economy is mostly based on selling their raw material to merchants for new magic.”
“New magic?” Candor’s head spun. So much happened in this world. She almost felt guilty for her dearth of knowledge. “What in the name of the twins is new majik?”
“Magic.” Thorn corrected. He turned his face to the wall that neither girl might see it. “I will not explain that. Not yet.”
The group fell silent.
“How many factions are there in Icaria?” Letti broke the silence.
Candor thought Thorn would not answer, but after a moment he sighed. “There are lots, and if I’m honest, I canna tell you how many there are anymore. The world has been fractured for so long, it’s hard to know where there are new fissures and where old wounds have closed.” He thought a moment. “Last I took stock of the world at length, you have the big cities, the violet villages, the war territories in the south, the river women in the east—and there’s more than a few sects there, let me tell you—the Hatchfolk, the Finches—not to be confused, the elves—”
“The elves!” Candor exclaimed.
“Yes, the elves.” Thorn stroked his beard. “The Fae are still here, and all the more powerful for their near extinction.” He smiled to himself, as if enjoying a private joke. “You have the nobles of Durevin, though I suppose you’d count that as one of the big cities now. It used to be the capital of the empire. There are plain folk too, wanderers and nomads who tend to fight for resources and various and sundry made up reasons.” Thorn thought for a few moments then shook his head. “I’m certain I’m missing some. There are small villages that dot the map from here to the Astoriad, but they’ve not earned names.”
“They have names.” Letti protested.
Thorn waved his hand, “yes, but not names to commit to memory. No significant names.”
Letti fell silent, but Candor could tell she was hurt by this assessment. Both girls knew their village fell into this category. This did not bother Candor, if anything, it vindicated her desire to escape.
“Thorn.” Candor said quietly. “Will you tell us about the mad king?”
Thorn froze, but quickly picked up his pace again. Then, as if discombobulated, stopped again and turned to the girls. His immense breadth blocked the Way.
“What do you know about the mad king?” He asked, eyes bright.
Both Candor and Letti took an involuntary step back, eyes wide. “Nothing.”
Breathing heavily, Thorn bounced on the balls of his feet, as if he were debating an attack. Finally, he retreated within himself, and his eyes cooled.
“I will tell you tonight, after we spar. That is not a story to be told just anywhere.” With that, Thorn whirled around and lengthened his stride so much so that Candor and Letti nearly had to jog to keep up.
Sharing a glance, the girls followed the large man over hill and dale, small pieces of gold gleaming from his ears.
~.~
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