Page 62 of Somewhere down the Ley Line
They rode along the dirt road side by side. The few people they passed paid them no heed. The homesteads were still few and far between – simple, small cottages with vegetable patches and little pastures with a few sheep or goats. Folk in these remote kinds of areas were hardy and closed off. If you minded your own business, they would mind theirs.
He hated leaving Isolde behind. Not that he didn’t trust Garren and Luella to keep her safe – not that she needed them – but the idea of walking away from her, even temporarily, made him deeply uncomfortable. Especially now, after what had happened. After he’d seen into her mind, which had been easily the strangest and most intimate experience of his life. Her memories and thoughts were bright and curious. The flashes of her childhood and adolescence, so different from his own. Running through manicured gardens instead of back alleys. Hiding under tables instead of horse carts. Unbridled, childish fear in a dark, quiet house in mourning. Endless lessons and rapidly changing faces of tutors and governesses.Then her first ball, her first suitor. That damn scribe’s boy and the slimy fiancé, he’d rather not have seenthat…And underneath it all, a constant undercurrent of longing for something more, something greater. Something she could not explain, but felt in her very bones.
She had so many memories of things she delighted in, like a picture book of pretty things. Beautiful plants, books, paintings. Views from their journey so far; the hills at sunset, dappled sunlight in meadows, an endless sea of stars. But most vividly, there were all her images ofhim.Of him sparring with Luella, riding his horse ahead of her, crouching by the fire. Laughing and smiling at her. Brooding when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was a good thing she’d broken the link between them when she did, because it may well have gone to his head otherwise.
Felix looked over his shoulder to the sky and the hills behind them, as if he could somehow see across the distance to the hidden camp and the girl who haunted his thoughts. She had appeared so small standing there when they left, her dark hair loose around slumped shoulders. She hadn’t said much when they were getting ready to leave. He hadn’t either.
Three days,they’d agreed. If Leif and Felix weren’t back in three days, the others were to move on to the Nexus without them. He’d scoffed at the idea – there was no chance in all the hells he was letting it come to that.
The city became gradually more visible in the distance. As they crested a low hill, Marsan’s spires came into view. Felix forced himself to adopt an air of nonchalance he didn’t quite feel.
Leif sat straighter in the saddle, craning his neck. “I’ve never seen so many rooftops in one place,” he said in quiet awe.
Felix laughed. “That? Wait until you see Azuill. Marsan is practically a village by comparison.”
They rode on, passing by fields where a handful of workers looked up briefly, but returned to their tasks without a word. The city walls were modest – more of a tall wooden palisade interspersed with stone in places than a proper wall – but it was enough to mark the boundary between countryside and civilization.
They left their horses at the small livery stable. This gate was the city’s smallest, as there was not much of note on the west side of town. The guard seemed relaxed;most people were waved through without a word. Felix tried his best to act as inconspicuous as possible, giving the guardsman a curt nod as they headed into the city.
Leif, on the other hand, was wide-eyed. “Look at all the carts!” he said. Multiple wagons lined up along the roadside, each piled high with crates or barrels.
“Keep it down,” Felix hissed. “And try not to stare.”
Leif blew out an incredulous breath. “There are so many people…”
The thoroughfare beyond the gate was nothing like Azuill’s busy streets, but lively all the same. Men and women bustled about, carrying baskets of produce goods. A market stretched along one side, with vendors hawking vegetables, dried fish, and mismatched trinkets. The mingled smells of produce sitting out in the sun, cattle, and unwashed bodies formed a heady stew in the humid air.
Leif wrinkled his nose. “That smell… Is someone cooking something or…” He coughed, his eyes watering.
Felix snorted. “Best not to think about it too much. Welcome to the city, Leif.”
Although Marsan was a provincial town and not nearly as large as Azuill or the other big cities to the south, it still took them a while to make their way across. Leif stopped to stare at every vendor, had to be pulled away from a puppet show that was an obvious front for pickpockets, and insisted on trying as many types of unknown food he could. An hour after their arrival in the city, they were walking down the street, chewing on spiral-cut roast potatoes on sticks, which Leif loudly declared to be a meal fit for kings. They entered the first tavern soon after. It was a bare bones, does-the-job-when-you-need-a-drink kind of place, with a peeling sign displaying two crossed swords above the door and a slightly grubby taproom. At least the glasses were clean, Felix mused as he got himself and Leif a pint.
He spent a short time making casual chit-chat with the barkeep, but the man seemed disinclined to gossip and was mostly concerned with the business he was losing to a newer tavern that had opened up nearby. The patrons did not seem like the overly chatty sort either, so they left soon after.
Two more taverns and a general store later, they had learned that some mage had passed through Marsan with a sizeable entourage, travelling north, but that was the extent of it. Evening was falling, and Felix decided they might as well finda place to stay for the night. He headed to the inn he remembered from his last visit to Marsan, a decidedly seedy establishment on a side street of a busy road lined with shops.
Felix walked into the inn’s taproom casually, quickly scanning the crowd for anything – or anyone – that stood out. He clocked three exits, two drunks with visible weapons, and one bard who should absolutelynotbe there. She spotted him at the same moment he saw her.
What the fuck? What in all the hells is she doing here?
Her eyes went round as dinner plates for a split second, before a wide grin spread across her face. She jumped up from her bar stool and sauntered over to him and Leif.
“Well, well, Felix,” she drawled. “Of all the taverns in all the towns in the world… The Weaver was smiling on me today. Who is your cute friend?” She leaned sideways to smile prettily at Leif, who turned scarlet.
“Mia,” Felix said, a little stiffly. “What are you doing here?”
“Just passing through. You know me; where the stories go, I follow.” Her smile was far too sharp around the edges. Felix shifted uncomfortably and took a quick glance at the other patrons of the tavern, but no one seemed to pay them any heed.
“Right, well, we’re leaving,” he said, pushing Leif away. He didn’t know why Mia was here, but it wasn’t a good sign. Maybe it would be better to cut this entire expedition short and return to the camp.
But before he could turn around, Mia grabbed his arm. “So soon? You just got here. Surely you have time to have a drink?” Her smile was catlike. “I have information. Things you are interested in.”
He scowled down at her. “Why would I be interested?”
She grinned widely as she slowly dragged her nails across his leather bracer. “Because it concerns you directly. You, and the leytouched woman you are travelling with.”
Felix froze.
