Chapter 24 – Castle Town
Smoke, noise, and stink enshrouded Link as he stepped into the stuffy, dirty tavern that was Telma's bar, leaving the last rays of the setting sun behind him.
As much as he tried not to stare, he could not help standing there with rising dread as he eyed his new environment. He had heard that Castle Town's taverns could sometimes get a little rough; Palaguard's inns weren't much different. But this looked closer to a battlefield than a gathering spot for travellers in search of a night's rest and a warm meal. The backmost, largest table was glistening with spilled liquid as men shouted and cheered and brandished their tin mugs at a small group of sweaty musicians loudly performing a local tune on a dais. Barmaids weaved around their customers carrying more refreshments and never left a group of tables without getting a slap on their behinds. A card game at the table nearest to the entrance seemed to have gotten out of hand, for just as Link carefully closed the door, two men in guards' armour rose and started shouting the vilest insults at each other. Link had just turned around to see a mug fly in his direction, ducking under just in time to miss it. With a wet clink it collided with the door, spraying ale behind him.
''Get a hold of yourselves!'' a barmaid hollered in a strong voice before hurrying towards Link and picking up the mug. ''Can I get ya anythin'?''
Her lean but surprisingly muscular arms stemmed into her sides as she cocked her head at him. Link prepared to make his voice sound loud enough to compete with the noise around him, but her delicate neck and the soft curve of her lips drew his attention away a moment too long. Her mouth arched upwards in a girlish curl as she noticed his prolonged stare.
''My my, who have we here? You lost, sweetie?''
Link tried to answer, but the sight of her deep green eyes muted his every sound. With her nicely tanned skin and flaming red hair, she didn't look like the Hylian girls he had seen on the streets. Her apron had been wrapped around her broad hips like a skirt, accentuating even more her extraordinarily slim waist. A long, prominent nose flared with the effort of running around the tables, and small beads of sweat made her soft skin glisten in the torches' light.
''You look much too young to be venturing in here, honey. This is an adult bar only.'' With a sharp flick of her head she extended her arm at the door.
She wanted him to leave, Link realized, and finally his brain clicked back into motion.
''I'm looking for Telma. Could I speak with her?'' he said, and noticed just how pathetic his voice sounded compared to the shouts and roars around him. He definitely didn't belong here.
The barmaid frowned and let her gaze wander up and down Link's body, folding her arms. ''And why would you want to meet Miss Telma?''
''I have been told she took in a young girl and a Zora boy not too long ago.''
''Who told you that? As I said before, this is an adult bar only. No children are allowed in here.''
Impatience inflamed Link's courage, and he took a short step forward. ''Please, I need to speak to Telma. I have been looking for that girl for a long time, and I wouldn't be here if I wasn't absolutely sure it is her.''
One brow now lifted on the barmaid's face. ''Well, maybe I have seen her in town on one of my errands. What does she look like?''
As Link described his best friend, the men around the tables began to shout and howl at the maid, calling for her attention. But she ignored them and carefully listened to the youth, nodding occasionally, her countenance softening into a relieved smile.
''Oi, Noora, we are in need of more sust'nance 'ere!'' an armoured man called from the table at the far end of the tavern. But the woman took Link's hand in hers and led him over to the counter, flicking a hand at the calling group of men.
''Not now, you drunken coots, this one here needs my attention first.''
Link was quickly seated on one of the higher counter stools and told to wait. As Noora disappeared through the kitchen door behind the counter, he turned left to gaze at the far corners of the scarcely lit hall. A rickety staircase at the back presumably led to a few spare rooms for travellers, its opening disappearing into the walled upper floor. Rushlights stuck out of iron stands on the tables or hung on the walls, but did a poor job in illuminating the obscure room. Mainly lit by a large fireplace fitted with a skewer where glistening meat drizzled fat into a pan on the floor, the back hall was even darker than the first half where the lights of candles and torches danced with the celebrating guards. Fewer people were keen on making a mess here and instead had opted for small huddled groups muttering mysteriously amongst themselves. Link found himself observing a pair of men seated next to the fireplace behind him, the first clothed in a darkened tunic. The other wore ragged tavern clothes with the only notable feature about him being his neatly trimmed, thin moustache and his short appearance. Rupees were produced out of a leather pouch and handed over, scrolls were exchanged bearing red wax seals. The dark figure looked up to meet Link's gaze, then leaned over to whisper something to his moustached partner. Both watched him, and Link quickly turned around to face the bar again. Whatever these two had been negotiating was clearly none of his business.
Doubt formed in his mind; this tavern looked worse than any place he'd ever been before, it's cleanliness only barely better than the deeper chambers of the Forest Temple. Even though Telma had seemed quite friendly when he first saw her, she must have a very different set of morals if she ran a bar where men could run rampant and dark figures conduct cloudy business as they pleased. And he hated himself more and more that he had left Ilia without paying closer attention to her refuge.
It did not take long, and the kitchen door opened to reveal a plump shape. Red braided hair bound to a tight ponytail jingled with countless pieces of jewellery as Telma strode into the hall, making her dark blue skirt and pink apron fly as she turned the corner sharply. Her face bore similarities to Noora – who now resumed her duty with as much as a last side-glance at Link – sporting the same flaming hair, tanned skin, and piercing green eyes. Two braided strands hung at either side of her face to hide the base of her long pointy ears. What struck Link the most, however, was her peculiar looking jacket of blue linen, and the very distinctive cleft above its brass button sprouting into a provocative display of her neckline.
Somewhere in the front room, male voices howled loudly as they saw her, but the innkeeper ignored them as if they were mere flies on her dirty walls. Suddenly, her eyes halted very close to Link's face and bore into his.
''Finally you came then, huh?'' she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. ''I've been looking all over Castle Town for someone who knew that sweet little butterfly! Who are you, her brother? Nah, impossible. Look at them cute Hylian ears. Her boyfriend then.''
Link felt his cheeks redden and he quickly stood up to take a step back. ''I – I'm her best friend. I've been looking for her for weeks.''
Telma straightened and started walking back to the closed kitchen door, laying a hand on the knob. ''Well then, we shouldn't keep you both waiting any longer, huh? You look like you've been through a lot to get here.''
Link nodded, smiling at her discerning remark. His chest vibrated with happiness and excitement as he hurried around the counter to follow Telma into the kitchen. The noise of the lively music and celebrating soldiers quieted down as she closed the way behind him, and he paused a moment at the large, fortified oak door to take in the sight of the kitchen – surprisingly clean compared to what he had seen of the inn so far. Stone walls encircled dust-free provision shelves and a large fireplace with enough space to hold several pots in a row. A door half eaten away by wood worms on the left of the cooking area presumably led to a pantry. The room was separated down the middle with another wall cutting the fireplace off of what seemed to be a wash room; clotheslines, washboards and upturned basins stood next to a large ale barrel. Small windows showed the faint silver light of the ascending moon in the town above them, and a door at the back led out into the night. The air smelled of steam, soap and fried onions.
The cook, a grey-haired, frizzy looking man in a tunic that once might have been white, briefly turned around from his large cauldron and nodded at Telma as she strode into the middle of the room and turned to face Link.
''Does the best friend have a name, huh?'' she asked. Her face had donned a stern look tinted with worry, a countenance Link had trouble to place.
''Link. My name is Link.''
''Just Link? Well then, Link, I will bring you to your friend. But there is something that I should tell you first. When we took her in, we– ''
Suddenly, the decrepit door behind the innkeeper opened slowly, turning outward to block the newcomer's shape behind it. A soft pit-pat of naked feet on old clay tiles joined the crackling sound of the fireplace as the figure entered the room and cut Telma's words off.
Link's heart momentarily stilled.
Blinking, he made out short hazelnut hair, a small but lean body, and glistening green eyes looking right at him. She was clad in a clean beige gown, looking tired but unharmed. In her delicate fingers, she held a large copper bowl with a scoop leaning against it's side. A few short scratches were silhouetted against her fair cheeks and hands, but they seemed shallow and healing.
Her eyes landed on Telma, a small smile gracing her lips as she nodded, then she looked up at Link again. The Hylian was too frozen in happiness and relief to make a move.
''Excuse me, Miss Telma, I'm just here for some more water.'' Ilia said, before turning towards the cook and extending her bowl.
Link's wide smile faded at the corners, a sinking sense of loss washing over him. Her voice, once a strong and unmistakable display of her authority, had become a tentative half-whisper barely audible over the noise in the next room. She had looked at him, had briefly nodded to acknowledge his presence, but nothing more. He tried to advance in her direction, but he realized he was stuck in place, unable to make a single move.
''That's all right, honey.'' Telma said with a smile, but her discomfort was reflected within her eyes as she looked at Link hesitatingly. ''I was just about to bring you some more.''
''Ilia…'' Link breathed. Pronouncing her name gave him strength, and he took a quick step in her direction. It was Telma's iron grip on his arm that stopped him in his tracks, jerking him back forcefully. His head swung around to stare at her in utter disbelief. What was she doing?
Without gracing Link with another look, Ilia disappeared in the pantry again, and the cook closed the door carefully behind her. The sound of the clicking latch echoed loudly in Link's ears, finally waking him up. He started towards the door to follow Ilia, but Telma tightened her grip around his arm.
''What are you doing?! Let me go! I need to go to her.'' he hissed and yanked his limb free, but the cook had positioned himself protectively in front of the door.
''Honey, stop!'' Telma called worriedly. ''You can't go to her right now.''
Ilia's empty eyes, her innocent, oblivious look she had laid upon him, appeared before Link as he backed away from the door, staring at the two strangers in front of him. Suddenly he felt weak, sick.
Angry.
''What happened to her?'' he breathed, shaking his head. ''What have you done to her?''
Link felt like shouting at them, demand why Ilia had not flung herself around his neck in happiness of seeing him again. Could it be that she had not seen who he was in this attire? Was she angry with him about having taken so long to find her, and wanted to pay him back by ignoring him? No, there had been no malice in her eyes, and punishing him after not having seen him for so long was just not her way. Not his best friend he had known ever since he could remember. She had looked directly at his face, and had not twitched once in recognition.
''There there, honey, we took her and her Zora friend in, fed them both and kept all harm from them.'' Telma now sounded cross. ''And I tried to tell you before you would see her. I had no idea she would suddenly appear in here on her own. Usually she never leaves her room by herself.''
''Tell me what?'' he grunted.
Telma's face turned pained. ''She came to us a few days ago, and I asked her many times to tell me what had happened to her, but she could never answer. Poor lass doesn't even remember her own name.''
Link could only stare at the innkeeper in shock. Telma huffed out, now moving her hand down his arm to take his own and lead him towards the wash room at the back. She nodded to the cook, and he retreated to the hearth and out of Link's sight.
The barmaid sat Link down on a stool amidst wooden tubs and clotheslines next to the damp stone wall. He watched the revealed flakes of hovering dust in the beams of silver moonlight falling through the small windows behind him, his mind still ringing with Ilia's soft, innocent voice. A voice that had sounded blank, emotionless, so unlike that of his best friend.
''Give it to him, Agus. Take it, honey, it'll make you feel better.'' he heard Telma's voice utter before him.
Something was shoved into his hands resting on his lap, and Link looked down to see a wooden mug held by the cook. Telma stood next to him, fists pressed tightly on her hips.
''T-thank you…'' Link stammered.
Agus produced a toothy smile before hurrying away without a word, and Telma sat down before Link on an upturned wash tub, sighing.
''I wouldn't hold it against her, sweetheart.'' she said sadly. ''If anything, it would confuse her even more. Bless her heart though. She told me she found the Zora out in the fields as she was wandering around the province, and did everything she could to save him. All she can think and talk about is that Zora boy.''
Link lowered his gaze to inspect the gently moving liquid in his mug. He knew he was supposed to drink it to calm him down. But even as easy a feat as swallowing seemed an enormous, impossible task.
He looked up, feeling nauseous just doing so. ''I don't understand…''
Telma cocked her head at him with a pitying look, folding her legs and resting her chin in her palm. ''Listen, honey. I know this comes as a shock to you, but right now there's nothing we can do about it. I wanted to bring you to her because I hoped she might remember something at the sight of you. Turns out she doesn't, and I'm sorry for that. Believe me, I've tried everything, from washing and repairing her clothes and showing them to her to listing every town, village and farm on the map that might ring a bell. Nothing seems to unlock her memory. Whatever that girl has lived before coming here, it must have been more traumatizing than anything I dare imagine.''
She huffed out and shook her head. ''But what I do know is that she is pouring her heart and soul into the life of that boy. I can barely get her to step out her room and take care of herself. Day and night she sits at his side, keeps his sheets damp, changes his dressings and feeds him whatever she can get into him. But if we don't get help for him soon, he won't make it. He has a large wound on his side that is badly infected. And if he dies, she will lose everything that is keeping her together right now.''
Link squeezed his eyes shut as Lanayru's vision played before him once again, and the image of Ilia falling into the black, endless depths of oblivion. Had it been another prophesy? A warning?
Telma leaned over and snapped her fingers loudly in front of his face. ''Link, look at me! I know it hurts, but you need to set your grief aside and help her! It doesn't matter if she remembers you or not. You are the only one who came for her, and as her best friend, don't you think you owe her that much?''
Her words hung thick in the air around them. Link looked long and hard at her as he tried to fight back the sinking feeling of disappointment that was threatening to overwhelm him. So sure had been his plans, his hopes, after finding Ilia again; spending lost time with her, bringing her safely to Kakariko and reuniting her with the other Ordonians… And now they were crumbling to the ground to a heap of shattered memories that would never become reality. He had put his faith into her, had believed that her healing affection would cleanse him of all grief, of all frustration, and would show him once again what his old, peaceful life had felt like.
Now he realized that the Twilight had truly taken everything from him.
''Is there any way for her to regain her memory?'' he asked quietly.
Telma looked apologetic. ''I'm no magician, so if there is, then I don't know it. There were many people here from all over town, physicians, scholars, and doctors, but they've been unable to help neither her nor the boy.''
As she spoke, an idea suddenly formed in Link's mind. Looking into his drink, he pictured a friendly, brown-skinned face, knowing eyes, and full lips smiling at him, pulling up the corners of his own mouth with a string of hope.
''The only one I haven't had here yet is that old codger Dr. Borville, but thanks to a bit of bribing on my side, he finally agreed to show his unattractive face here tomorrow–''
''I know someone who can help them.'' he interrupted Telma, and the barmaid silenced immediately. ''A shaman in Kakariko. He knows how to treat Gorons, and he may know how to treat the Zora too.''
Telma shook her head. ''From what I heard, Kakariko was attacked and destroyed a long time ago. That shaman you speak of is probably dead or captured.''
''When did you get the news?'' Link pressed on.
''A few weeks ago. The town screamer passed on the news, along with the loss of the Spirit Spring.''
''You're wrong. Kakariko is a thriving fort now, garrisoned by Gorons and riders from Eldin. I know so because I was there just a few days ago. I helped rebuild it. Renado himself treated my wounds after I arrived there.''
He wrenched off his glove to show her the thick bandage around his burn. Thanks to Renado's miraculous treatment, it had started to grow and replace the skin scorched by the close proximity of the lava river during his ordeal with the Elders, and even the barely visible hairs had begun to sprout once more.
Telma frowned indecisively at his arm. ''Are you saying that you want to take the girl and the Zora to Kakariko, all on your own, through fields and forests crawling with black beasts and pig-monsters and whatnot?''
''If I have to.'' Link answered, setting his drink aside and putting his glove back on. ''My horse is fast and hardy, she can take us there in a day and a half if I press her.''
Agus had repositioned himself at the pantry door and was shaking his head persistently, mirrored immediately by Telma.
''Certainly not! You need a better plan than this, young man.'' With a flick of her braided strands, the barmaid sprang up and moved towards a store shelf next to the washtubs, stretching to reach the upper board. She pulled out a long, dusty leather tube with a large cork at its end, and with a quick glance at the closed kitchen door, she emptied the content onto the tiled floor.
Link leaned over, intrigued, and watched how she unrolled the large piece of drawn parchment that had slid out of the tube; a map of the kingdom.
''Send Batreaux to his room.'' she told Agus, and the cook hopped off through the door into the noisy tavern. With an outstretched finger pointing at the thin ink lines composing Hyrule's roads, Telma spoke to Link.
''Now, I'm happy you found your courage again, boy, but rash actions and poor planning are going to get us all killed, and I've grown too fond of that girl to let that happen. The Zora is hardly in any shape to ride, let alone travel such a distance, which is why we'd need a way to transport him.'' She glanced at Link's sword, and added with a raised brow. ''I can get my hands on a cart and a draught horse, but I have no means to hire any additional escorts since I spent every last rupee I had saved up to get those posh doctors here. And even if I asked people and soldiers around town, they wouldn't risk going to Eldin even if I paid them a fortune. To protect us, you'd be on your own.''
Link started to agree, when her words played again in his head. ''Hang on, protect you?'' he asked suspiciously.
The pantry door behind them swung open all of a sudden, and a familiar figure strode into the room just as Agus re-entered through the kitchen door. Link raised his head to find it was the mysterious moustached man in the tavern clothes. How in Din's name did he get from the tavern into the pantry?!
''You asked for me, Maîtresse?'' he said in an exotic accent while kneeling next to the map on the floor.
''Batreaux, what news of the Hylian Road? Would it be safe to travel?'' Telma asked as answer, ignoring Link's astonished look.
Batreaux leaned over the parchment and shook his short-haired head. ''It is safe 'till the crossroads, but Eldin Field is swarming. I would not risk it unless you were light-footed and shrouded in shadows.''
Telma nodded. ''Could we take the Southern Road past Lon-Lon Farm to Little Well's Cross, and turn east from there?''
''Should be faisable, Maîtresse.''
Telma grunted in affirmation and made a dismissive hand-move. As quickly as he had come, Batreaux disappeared again, walking backwards to vanish behind the kitchen wall, and the innkeeper turned to Link as if the little moustached fellow had never existed. ''Yes, you would protect us because no matter how hard you try, you can't convince me to let that girl go with you alone. If you truly plan on doing something as crazy as this, then you will have to deal with the fact that I'll be joining you. And you would be our only protector. Understand?''
His first thought was to object, to tell her he was hardly the swordsman she thought he was. The only training he had gotten after leaving Ordon were the few monster encounters on the road. But those musings soon faded as he saw the persistent look in Telma's eyes. His training, or the proficiency with which he handled his weapon, was not what mattered to her. She had grown too fond of his former best friend to let her be carried away by a complete stranger, and surely Ilia felt the same; to her he would not be Link of Ordon any more, but a warrior offering her his services out of the kindness of his heart to help her friend in need. There would be no chance of Telma letting Ilia go with him alone. He had no choice but to give in.
Telma's brows creased grimly as he nodded in acceptance. ''Very well. Then we shall make preparations, but I have one last condition. I used most of what remains of my savings to get Dr. Borville here, and despite him being a right git, he is the most competent physician in Castle Town. I want his opinion first before we consider Kakariko as our last resort.''
She let go of the corners of the map to let it shrink back into a tube. ''Enough chattering for one night though. We'll discuss the details tomorrow when you've had some sleep and food. You're more than welcome to take one of my private chambers in the back. Come with me.''
The mention of a warm meal and a soft bed rekindled Link's energies, and he smiled as answer while standing up to follow Telma. He turned towards the kitchen door leading to the inn, but realized that the barmaid was not headed that way. Grabbing the key ring that hung from her linen jacket, she opened the rotten pantry door to reveal a cramped storage room packed with jars and bottles. Ilia had entered that room before but was nowhere to be seen, for as Link peered around Telma's bulk into the room, he noticed the very obvious dead end at the back. The small moustached man, who had been hiding in the kitchen area, now walked towards the door Link had stepped through, placing a long-fingered hand on its rusty handle.
Instantly Link grew uncomfortable. Meeting Batreaux's eyes, he could see a hint of malice flicker inside them as the man attempted to shut the door. Link's hand shot up to the hilt of his sword.
''Don't worry, honey, Batreaux just wants to close the door behind us and make sure no one follows.'' Telma said calmly as if having expected his reaction.
Link looked distrustfully at the man, but the innkeeper was already dragging him further into the pantry. The door creaked shut, and suddenly they were cast into darkness.
Blinded, Link carefully approached the plump woman who had walked to the back, fumbling with her keys. ''Where are we?'' he asked nervously.
''Well, obviously we're in a pantry.'' Telma chimed, her tone amused. ''And I must ask you to always treat it as such. I don't want no strangers knowing about my little back chambers just yet. Can I count on you to speak of this to no one?''
She turned to wait for his reply, her hand poised on the large key she had stuck into a hidden opening in the wooden wall behind her. Despite the darkness, Link knew from her tone that her countenance had turned serious, worried even. He swore to secrecy, and with a nod Telma turned the key.
Bright candlelight flooded the pantry as the back wall opened inward, revealing a wooden vestibule with a corridor turning left a few yards further. Three closed doors strung along that hallway, but Telma passed them at a quick pace, giving Link little time to keep up. They emerged in a second corridor once again leading left, its right wall littered with doors; Link counted six in total, and a trapdoor leaning ajar against the stone wall at the very back suggested these were hardly all of Telma's secret back chambers.
Questions upon questions tumbled around in his mind, but as Telma opened the second of the doors and revealed a clean, comfortable looking room furnished only with a solid feather bed, a large chest, and a bronze bowl atop a narrow table, he decided to refrain from asking them just yet. The bed seemed to beckon him with outstretched arms. He stepped towards it, feeling the sheets and smelling soap and the scent of lavender blossoms issuing pleasantly from it. The pillow was no dirty straw sack that peasants usually rested their head upon, but neatly sown linen filled with downs or sheep's wool by the feel of it. The luxury of it all astonished him.
''I'll ask Agus to get you something to eat while you make yourself comfortable. Oh, and take this key, it'll get you through the pantry door if you need to get out at night. Just head through the wash room and out the back door, and you'll be in the courtyard. You should be in the clear during this time of night, but I must ask you to keep a low profile.''
He watched as she removed a second, identical key hanging from her key ring that she handed him with a wide smile. As she turned to leave, however, he called her back. Most of his questions could wait, but he needed answers to the two most pressing ones. ''Where is Ilia?''
Telma halted next to the door she was about to close, and turned her head to him. Her look became distant, musing. ''Ilia. So that's her name, huh? Yes, you said it once, in the kitchen. But she didn't react to it.''
A sigh made her shoulders rise and fall. ''I put her and her friend in the second room below, just down the trapdoor stairs. It's very calm down there, and also cooler – for the boy's sake, you see? I figured she would feel safest when she's far away from all those drunkards.''
Her thumb pointed at the wooden wall behind her, and the soft sound of thumping tables, swirling music and bellowing customers issuing through it. Wherever these corridors were situated in the confusing building that Link found himself in, it must have been close to the main tavern.
Link raised the key in his hand. ''And this? You have a pantry with a secret passage to all these rooms. Why?''
A grin now washed over Telma's chubby face as she folded her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. ''Making demands already, huh, honey?''
She chuckled softly as Link struggled to come up with a reply. ''I'll make you a deal, all right? If you bring us to Kakariko safely, I will answer all your questions. I swear. Nothing held back. See it as an admission test, if you will.''
''An admission test to what?''
She ignored his question and took a few steps into his room, one hand stemmed into her side. Suddenly she looked intimidating, authoritarian as she advanced on him with a finger raised in front of his face. Link's ears folded back nervously.
''Until then, you stick to my rules and keep this place hidden from outsiders. And after all I did for your lady friend, you owe me, boy. Prove to me that you deserve this key, and I might let you keep it. Understood?''
Her grass green eyes, bearing down on him, allowed for no argument. From a distance, she had appeared stumpy, plump and short, but Link now realized that she was almost a head taller than him. Her arm, raised at an angle to point at him, sported a well-toned biceps, the muscle strands in her lower arm standing out in the dim light of the hallway. She caught his look, and snorted out a snicker.
''I think you understand, darling. Agus will bring you some stew in a moment. Good night.''
Flicking her many pieces of jewellery, she swirled around and disappeared in the corridor. The forged key ring clattered along with her heavy steps, her low chuckle echoing against the narrow walls.
What have I gotten myself into now? Link thought, and sighed in tired exasperation.
0
''The nearest saddler is down Smithen Street, the second to your right. You can't miss it, there's a big sign hanging from the shop with a saddle on it.''
Link nodded to Telma while he strapped his cloak around his shoulders. ''How do I find Smithen Street?''
The barmaid inclined her head in puzzlement. ''Oh right, I forgot you're not from Castle Town.''
Smiling, Link picked up the two baskets at his feet, fitting one inside the other, and glanced inside the top one quickly to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything; a hemp rope, a large horse brush, a linen bundle filled with coal from the hearth, four carrots, a straw hat and an old hoof pick were carefully hidden from view beneath two empty potato sacks.
''I'll be back before noon, unless I get lost.'' he said with a half-hearted chuckle.
''Just ask around if that happens, honey. And don't get nervous. The guards here may look intimidating in their fancy armour and chain mail, but they are the lowest of what Hyrule's army has to offer. Cowards, drunkards and half-wits, the lot of them. What chance do they have against a clever, handsome young man such as you?''
Covering his head with the cloak's hood to hide his blush, Link bade the innkeeper farewell and stepped out into the walled courtyard. Looking around, he made his way up the stone stairs and emerged in South Market Street. It was early in the morning. The first rays of sunlight were just reaching over the town walls to bathe the paved streets in a bright beige glow. A storm had swept through the past night, leaving behind the scent of wet grass and earth in the freshly washed air. Occasionally, a door opened to reveal a puffy-eyed servant departing for errands. In South Market street just above Telma's bar, the first stalls awakened as their lids were pushed open with a pole and farmers started heaving out crates with produce. Birds chased around the dripping roofs of houses, filling the streets with the sound of chirping and rustling wings.
Link cherished every moment he walked over the paved road, relishing the morning silence, the quiet peace of mind of the few people walking by. Soon, this street would be filled with chatter, laughter, bartering and crying of vendors as the farmers, labourers, and merchants arrived from the countryside. For now, though, Castle Town was just waking up.
Careful to move quickly without seeming hasty, he passed the limestone houses composing South Market street until he arrived at the southern gate house. Telma had told him that at exactly six chimes of the tower bell in Center Square, the guards would change shifts. Lousy as they were, they would hurry inside the towers as quickly as possible to warm up by the braziers, while their replacement would drag their start of duty out as far as possible, namely until the last chime had echoed through town to completely dilute in the cold air. In early summer, it only worked in the first morning hours, last being the sixth, before the sun had heated up the air sufficiently enough to lull the guards in a comfortable mist of warmth. It would give Link a few precious seconds to slip out unnoticed.
He waited in the shadows of the wall until the bell began its monotonous song. The guards at the gate and atop the towers hurried inside barely after the first chime had stopped, overjoyed to stand by the fire and warm their hands moistened and frozen by the harsh morning chill. Silent as the fog wafting over the fields around the town, Link crept passed the towers and along the city wall, disappearing into the sunrise with his two baskets firmly in his grip.
He had to walk about a quarter of a mile along the road until he arrived in a small forested area. The trees were short and spacious, but dense enough to have formed undergrowth and groups of bushes at their bases. Sunlight fell through the early summer leaves and painted a mosaic of bright dots on the trodden path. Link inhaled deeply, relishing the familiar scent of moist earth and wild, untended coppice. A pang of longing for his hometown filled him briefly, and he let the many resurfacing memories wash over him to while away the lonely walk to his destination.
He soon found a slightly larger elm tree bearing a shallow cross cut into its bark, which he had put there himself the day prior, and veered off into the denser parts. The storm had broken off boughs and branches large enough to make him change his course multiple times. Stepping lightly to prevent noise, he began to whistle a three-noted melody. Groundwater had emerged from shifting land to form small puddles of sprouting, crystal clear water. Small trickles ran along miniature river beds to disappear in the earth, leaving a trace of fern, mudflowers and horsegrass behind.
Hidden from the surrounding fields stretching over the entire country by the trees, Link arrived in a small clearing with a shallow pond in its middle. He found fresh traces of hooves at its edge, and turned around to whistle again. From the far side of the clearing came a hesitant snort, then a large shape emerged from the trees.
His heart itched as it filled with enormous relief. Grinning widely, Link quickened his steps to greet his mare. As he approached her, however, the horse nervously backed away from him, eyeing him suspiciously. He had expected this, and slowing his steps he reached into the upper basket to retrieve one of the carrots.
''It's okay, Epona. I'm not going to hurt you.'' Extending the carrot, he slowly bent down to one knee, setting the baskets aside.
Her coat, caked with mud and filth, had only partly been rinsed by the rain, the rest sporting dishevelled looking stripes and patches of half-dried dirt as well as two darker spots where his legs had held on for dear life the day before. Flies were flocking around her in masses, feasting on the muck on her sides. Her legs, once proud of white-haired bushels that curtained her ivory hooves, were dark brown and smelly, the longer hairs standing aside in spikes. It made Link's eyes water to see her in such a state.
The horse gradually calmed down as he spoke softly and accepted the treat from his hand. Getting a taste of the carrot made her bolder with desire for more, and soon Link was able to touch her without her shying away.
''You stayed right here just like I told you, girl. I'm so proud of you.''
Talking calmly, he retrieved another carrot and slowly walked backwards into the pond. The water only reached halfway up his boots – a perfect spot for a wash.
''I'm going to take care of you and bring you to some nice folks in town, where you'll have a stable, some fresh oats and a blanket to warm you in the night. And you're gonna see Ilia again. You remember her, don't you?''
Her big brown eyes rested on him while he bent down to retrieve the horse brush from the basket. He let her sniff it, then soaked it in water and began rinsing her fur with long, gentle moves.
''But first, we need to play a little trick on the guards in town so that I can get to the saddler and buy you a new saddle. You are a fugitive, girl, did you know that?''
The irony made him chuckle with disbelief. ''News travels fast in Hyrule. And it turns out I'm not the only one to want you by my side. When I went into Castle Town yesterday to look for Ilia, I saw a group of soldiers ride into town. I heard them stop a traveller behind me to ask if he had seen a young Hylian man and a large dirty horse with a white mane that had been stolen from the barracks of Nayrunis. They must have followed our tracks.''
He bent over to lift one of her hooves and used the hoof pick to clean the inside that was filled with mud. ''Thank Farore for the storm, eh lass? They'd have taken you away from me once again had the rain not washed away your hoof prints.''
His tongue loosened all by itself, and before he knew it, he had tapped into the long tale that had led him through the vast fields of Hyrule first into Eldin, then into Lanayru Province. With one of Epona's large ears always turned in his direction, he moved around her, brushing filth and soaked blades of straw away while he told her how he had arrived in Kakariko, finding the children, and scaling the mountains with Renado to meet the proud Goron race. He combed through her tail and mane with fingers reddened by the cold water, vividly describing his first look upon Hyrule Field and the rescue of the refugees from Fort Audorn. The fitting of half the hemp rope around her head to make a temporary halter was accompanied by his soft words telling the sad story of the worshippers killed in the very place they had sought out for help. Lanayru's prophesy tumbled from his lips with him standing still next to her head, one hand cupped over her snout, gently stroking over it with eyes lost in the terrifying vision of ages past. He voiced no mention of Midna, but told his mare of the unimaginable feeling of breaching the endless Twilight on four legs, with his wolfish tongue lolling out of his maw as a vent for his accumulating body heat. His long-awaited but painful reunion with Ilia made thick tears roll down his cheeks, his wrists smearing mud onto his face as he wiped them away.
And while he spoke, Epona stood in the water, calm and complacent, savouring the care she was being given. Relished the feeling of itchy dirt being washed off of her coat that gradually regained its proud red shimmer. Stood with her hooves half submerged in the pond that turned grey and brown with filth. Remembered Link's calm baritone that she had known her entire life.
She stood, and listened.
0
The sun had reached its zenith when, dry-mouthed and spent, Link finally stepped back, arms akimbo, to inspect his work.
Epona looked absolutely splendid.
With the two baskets strapped to either side of her flanks with his hemp rope, she could easily be mistaken for a sturdy work horse used to transport merchandise. The brush, the hoof pick, his green tunic, and his cloak laid undetected at the bottom of the baskets, covered by moist pieces of wood and the potato sacks and topped by a layer of chicken mushrooms he had gathered for half an hour to fill up the remaining space and perfect the illusion of nicely filled baskets ready for market day. It was common for farmers to gather whatever resources they could find in the wilderness, according to Telma.
Epona's mane, tail, and hoof hair had been rubbed with the coal he had brought from the innkeeper's kitchen hearth, turning it dark grey to hide the shining white underneath. To complement their dress-up and make the pair complete, he had donned his leather belt with the rupee pouch, knife and quiver around his linen undershirt to further enforce the impression that he was a bold, armed farmer on the way to sell the fruit of his hard work. Telma had advised him to take his bow, which was strapped over his shoulder by the bow string, instead of his sword; according to the barmaid, farmers seldom had money to buy swords. Lastly, he had stuffed his long Hylian ears into the old straw hat he had also borrowed from Telma, covering the one feature that would identify him as Hylian at first sight.
At first he had been unsure if all that work was truly necessary, or if his ruse was too obvious to go unnoticed. But the more detail he added to his getup – like loosening the laces of his collar or bending over the mirroring surface of the soiled pond to apply a discreet layer of dust to his face to imitate the look of a long morning of travelling – the more he felt himself slip confidently into his new role. The daunting task of smuggling an ostensibly stolen horse into town to be able to buy a saddle for the journey to Kakariko gave him purpose, and courage. The more he worked on their transformation, the more he felt confident that it would work.
Finally, he felt as though he could repay Ilia for failing her on that fateful day in Ordon.
Attaching the last of his hemp rope to Epona's makeshift collar to form a lead, he stroked lovingly over her nostrils and led her out of the clearing into the woods. On his way back to the southern gate house, he whistled Epona's song.
Market day was in full swing in the city, as he found out upon stepping closer to the twin towers overlooking the southern entrance. Even at this time of day, travellers and merchants still came flooding in with their mules, horses and carts packed heavily with goods. He merged with the procession, Epona walking behind him and turning her head to watch the other people curiously. Blue eyes scanning the area intently from beneath the straw hat, he took notice of a group of five soldiers standing by the right tower, as watchful as him.
His heart started pumping fast: draped over their chain mail was a blue and white surcoat with a golden serpent depicted on the chest, the coat of arms of Nayrunis. He had seen it in the town two nights ago on the banners hanging from the many stone houses in the streets, a golden serpent showing none other than the protector spirit of the province.
As they caught sight of him, one of them pointed a gloved finger at him and nodded to the others.
Link passed the gate and immediately felt himself surrounded. ''Vous, jeune homme, oyez nous pour un moment.'' one of the soldiers said in a foreign language that Link did not know. He was led out of the crowd, merchants and travellers looking back at him warily and speeding up their steps to get out of the way. He tried to keep his calm and don an intrigued countenance, but he could not prevent the nervous feel of adrenaline overcoming his senses.
''Est-ce votre cheval?'' another asked.
He had known that this could happen, but he had a last-resort plan. Huffing out inwardly to make himself ready, Link switched into the worst Ordonian accent he could possibly muster. ''Ah beg yer pardon, hen sairrr, but Ah cannae kin a wuid yoo're sayin. Ye will hae tae spick clearly if ye want somethin' frae me.''
He pleaded to the Goddesses that the slight tremble in his voice went unnoticed, but the look on the soldier's face as he turned to his comrades for help was priceless. Feeling Epona's gentle nudge behind him, he relaxed his taut muscles and slouched slightly. After all, he was a farmer on his way to the market.
''My friend was asking if this animal was your horse.'' a second soldier said.
Link grinned up at Epona. ''Ay coorse thes is mah cuddie. Ah hae hud 'er since she was a wee lassie. We ur oan uir way tae th' markit tae seel uir mushrooms.''
He looked back at the soldiers and scratched his brow. ''Wa dae ye want tae ken?''
Now even the second soldier, who spoke Hylian, was lost. ''I'm sorry?''
''Wa dae ye ask?'' Link said.
''Oh. Because a very rowdy horse has been stolen two nights ago from the barracks of Nayrunis by a young Hylian man, and we are suspecting him to seek refuge in Castle Town. You are a Hylian, aren't you, young man?''
Link thought quickly, hiding his reluctance by drawing his straw hat with a quick bow. ''Och aye, Ah am. But Ah was brooght up oan an Ordonian farm efter mah parents sent me thaur coz Ah wisnae bricht enaw tae become a scholar.''
The soldier frowned irritatedly while Link talked, studying Epona with growing suspicion. The other four exchanged glances, and Link felt his painstakingly created disguise crack and crumble. Telma had made him aware of just how serious Hyrulean law treated theft, especially that of a work horse. Sweat broke out on his brow as he ransacked his brain for something witty to say that would ease the situation, but nothing came to him. Already, one of the soldiers approached the baskets strapped to Epona's back.
''With your permission, young Hylian, we will search your bags. Standard security procedure.''
Link's tongue knotted together, making him trip over his next reply. Epona saw the soldier approach, and shifted away from him uneasily.
''Oy! Link! What in Nayru's name is going on?!''
Out of South Market street and through the throng of merchants, a moustached man peeled himself from the crowd and approached the soldiers. He was clad in dirty white baker's clothes and had a wooden tray in his arms supported by a belt around his neck. The board was loaded with steaming pastries.
''Bonne journée, mes seigneurs! Glad to see you again!'' he called to the soldiers before taking a flour-covered hand from his tray and slapping it against the back of Link's head all while casually glancing at the baskets. ''I have been waiting half an eternity for you! I need my mushrooms! Clients are already requesting my chicken mushroom and raisin pastry speciality! And here you come strolling in at noon, harassing these fine men?!''
The soldiers greeted the newcomer with recognition as well as surprise, then frowned at the mushrooms in Epona's baskets. Beneath the man's smeared baker's hat, Link recognized the familiar face of Batreaux, but it took him a second to remember he had been talking in the heavy Ordonian accent. ''These men th… hink 'at Epona is th' swatched cuddie they ur lookin' fur! It's nae mah faut, master!'' he called, feigning an offended expression.
Batreaux turned to them with his pastry tray and bowed deeply. ''Mes seigneurs, I can vouch for my good-for-nothing servant. I am deeply sorry if he caused you any trouble. He is a bit, how to say…'' He thought for a moment, then added in a half-whisper. ''Pas très dégourdi, vous savez c'que j'veux dire!''
The soldiers nodded a little self-consciously, chuckling at Link's confused look. ''All right then, monsieur pâtissier, we will not bother you any longer. Clearly we made a mistake. We apologize.''
Batreaux thanked them heartily all while pushing Link up the street behind him, and bade the soldiers farewell with an exaggerated bow. Then he stomped off northward, dragging Link behind himself. He did not slow down until they were halfway up South Market street. Huffing out, he slapped Link's head again.
''Really? Of all the things you could have packed in there, sweet things, boy, that go into pastries, you picked mushrooms?! Why not gooseberries? Or cherries? They're all around here this time of year! Or simply firewood for the oven! But no, it had to be mushrooms!''
Link was so relieved that all he could produce as answer was a childish giggle. For a moment he had truly thought that the soldiers would take hold of his baskets and empty everything on the ground, revealing the green tunic of the thief they were looking for, or run their fingers through Epona's mane to find it was powdered with black coal dust. Still chuckling, he asked Batreaux how he had possibly known he had been in trouble.
''I've known it ever since Maîtresse Telma told me what you were up to. Horse theft is a serious crime, boy, so serious you can lose a hand or a foot for it. I knew there was a batch of Nayrunis soldiers in town looking for your horse, so I sought them out this morning while you were gone and chatted with them for a while, offering them some pastries. The people from Nayrunis are no idiots, they know when someone is lying. You have to be one of them to lead them astray. And your mushrooms almost exposed my careful ruse!''
''Mushrooms were the only thing I could think of!'' Link defended himself.
''Well, let's just hope they don't decide to ask around town for chicken mushroom and raisin pastries!'' Batreaux cried, and both of them burst out laughing.
Following Batreaux's lead, they walked up Market Street and soon arrived in the first of many plazas. Wealthy looking town houses circled around the square, each giving away their own glimmer of whitewash dried in the afternoon sun and contrasted by the small windows that appeared dark and sleeping. The signs of the many shops at the base of each house swayed gently in the low breeze. Tailors and clothmerchants advertised their rich fabrics with rolls of royal blue, crimson and pine green painted on ornately whittled boards. A cutler, his shop almost overrun by customers, had hung one of his best knives by two golden chains inside a filigree circle of blackened steel; Link was momentarily distracted by the flash of light reflected from its polished surface. Near the west side of the square, a bulky woman stood on a stepladder chatting loudly with another while setting up a pole with a bushel hanging from it, indicating freshly brewed ale for sale.
A baker's chimney was spewing dark smoke into the flawless sky, the open door beckoning customers inside with whiffs of hot crusts set aside to cool. Passing that shop, Batreaux quickly excused himself to disappear inside. He came out a few minutes later wearing a plain brown tunic and a leather bag around his shoulder. The tray with the pastries and his baker's clothes had vanished.
''Old friend, owed me a favour. But don't count on me to save your derrière all the time!'' he said flippantly and waved at the smiling Hylian to follow him.
''That language the guards and you spoke, what is it?'' Link asked, noticing how the little man strewed foreign words into almost every sentence, whether deliberately or unconsciously he did not know.
''Ah, that's the scholar's tongue of my people spoken throughout the province.'' Batreaux grinned at the interest he was being given. ''It has a complicated name, which is why most people simply call it Lanarian. There was a time when it was reserved only to the wise and the royals, but now it has become a widely used language among us. To non-native Lanarian speakers, however, it is a terrible pain to learn, so I suggest you spend your time with more promising things, mon garçon.''
His last comment made him laugh so hard that people turned their heads to him in wonder, and Link joined him with an amused chuckle.
The town wall occasionally showed through the narrow rows of houses on their right as they continued north, Batreaux leading the way and soon turning east to enter Smithen Street. Link knew it was the district of blacksmiths not just by the signs depicting nails, swords, tools or pieces of armour, but by the melodic hammering echoing from the workshops they passed that had been audible long before they approached the junction. A man's voice issued from the first stall blackened by the smoke of the forges, ordering a squire to fetch coal from behind the house. Horses were everywhere, from small ponies and mules led by farmers to the largest and most magnificent looking destriers and their wealthy looking owners. Snorting and the clopping of hooves filled the entire length of the street, accompanied by the occasional hollow neigh as one of the horses was being shod inside the workshops.
The saddler was just opposite an armourer's shop on the right of the street. Its square sign showed an ornate painting of a saddle inside a circle of stylistically painted daisies. Two stirrups hung on either side of the wooden board, their polished brass giving away golden glimmers.
Batreaux went inside the workshop after having asked Link to hand him his rupee pouch. Link did not protest, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people pushing their way past him and Epona. He had no problem with delegating the task of buying a cheap but fitting saddle to the self-confident Batreaux, who clearly knew exactly what he was doing. And indeed, it didn't take long until a gate on the side of the shop entrance was opened by a thickly bearded man in a leather apron who invited Link to lead Epona into a small backyard. Link chuckled at the fact that it was clearly fitted for the very purpose of enabling horses to try on saddles, just like a Hylian would sit on a chair at a shoemaker's shop trying on a new pair of boots.
The clock tower in the centre of town a few streets further north of Smithen Street chimed twice before he, Batreaux, and Epona made their way south again through the crowd. For most of Link's savings, they had gotten an old travelling saddle, dusty and neglected, that the saddler had produced from the farthest corners of his stack. Even he had proclaimed that it was almost too worn-out to use, but it had been its flexibility from heavy usage that had allowed it to perfectly fit Epona's wide back. Upon a few muttered words from Batreaux, the saddler had also included a hunter bridle – the simplest and cheapest – as well as a roughly woven saddle blanket in the price.
Link was beaming as they left the workshop, the bridle in his arms and the saddle and blanket draped loosely over Epona's back, Batreaux once more in the lead. The little man, having noticed Link's wide eyes scanning shops, houses and large buildings with barely suppressed fascination, decided to share some of his vast knowledge of the capital with Link and even led them through different parts of the city where he knew a few unusual buildings, pointing out all kinds of shops with the most curious specializations.
''If you ever need buttons, be it horn, bone, leather, metal, wood buttons or buttons made of precious gems, this here shop is the one to seek out. That street down there is the weaver's quarter. You can get pretty much any kind of textiles, braids and bands there, be it wool or linen, silk or even hair fabric. If I were you, I would steer clear of Almoner's Alley, only thieves and cutthroats over there. Also Butcher's Row, which is west of South Market street, is not dangerous, but it's not a nice place to be on a hot summer day with the meat hanging outside in the sun. You won't ever forget the smell of that, I promise you. Dégoûtant!''
One particular building, standing proudly on the edge of a plaza and surrounded by lush patches of grass and flowers, caught Link's eye longer than the others. It's large square middle tower flanked by two smaller ones overlooked most of the town houses. Batreaux gladly led him down the rough paved path to stand in front of its old oak door and marvel at the intricate stonework.
''That's the Temple of Time, mon ami, one of the oldest buildings in all of Hyrule. It's a nice place to be, very quiet and peaceful. If you come here again, be sure to take a look inside.''
But their time was running short, Batreaux said as he took a peek at the sun that was on its steady way towards the horizon. Telma wanted to speak to Link as soon as he was back, and it was best not to keep the Maîtresse waiting.
The mention of the innkeeper brought back Link's confusion of the place she owned. ''Batreaux?'' he started, tripping on the foreign name, and his companion cringed.
''Call me Bat, if you please.'' he said, not unkindly. ''Simpler for you non-Lanarian folk to say. I absolutely abhor hearing my name being mispronounced.''
Link smiled. ''All right, Bat. Why does Telma have hidden passages and rooms in her tavern?''
Bat cast him a sizzling look as they rounded a corner to emerge in a narrower alley running parallel to South Market street. The large, three-storied limestone building that housed Telma's bar, looking to the outside like a high middle-class town house, loomed ahead.
''Keep quiet, or do you want all of Castle Town to know about it?!'' he answered with a hiss. ''I'm in no position to tell. And even if I were, this is hardly the place for that kind of talk.''
He turned back to the road, and his posture indicated that the conversation was over.
The alley ended in a moderately sized courtyard overlooked by more houses, their roofs almost touching each other to form a canopy of wooden beams and tiles above their heads. A trough-shaped fountain stood next to a high, grey stone wall on the left. Set into the base of the three-storied house up ahead was a small door with a cropped window to its left, and on the right, a low roof supported by thick wooden beams reached nearly halfway into the yard, bearing the hanging image of a hammer and anvil forged in black iron. Its stall was closed, but the double doors leading into the building were wide open. Telma stood in the passage talking to a rough-looking man who was busy uncoupling a covered wagon from the horse that stood in front of it.
As the barmaid saw them approach, she excused herself and hurried down the alley to greet them.
''There you are! I was beginning to worry. Did everything work out as planned?''
Bat inclined his head at her courtly and then tapped Link's shoulder. ''Oh, the young man did fairly well, disguised himself with stunning accuracy and even showed off an extraordinarily convincing use of peasant language to trick his pursuers. I met him on the way back from Saddler Daisy and decided to bask in the shine of his presence for a while, for he still gets lost easily. A city guide would be most useful with this one.''
Before Link could retort, Telma answered. Her voice was pleased, but a tone of urge had crept into it. ''I'm glad it worked out well. That is truly a fine looking horse you got there, indeed. How about you lead her into the workshop while I finish up here? And you, Bat, off into the kitchen with you. It's going to be packed tonight with the market going on.''
Batreaux saluted sharply and raised a hand at Link before rapidly walking towards the small door. Link realized this was the same door he had seen in the wash room the night before. It also explained the fountain, which was the main source of fresh water for the wash room as well as the inn kitchen. And the wall on the left must be the same wall cutting off the main tavern entrance from this courtyard.
While Link led Epona into the vacant smith's workshop, Telma thanked the man squatting beside the covered wagon. ''I am in your debt, Rod. As soon as I'm back and I got the money, I'll make it up to you.''
''Don't you worry about the money, Telma. I'm happy I could help any way I can.'' the man answered in a deep, friendly voice. ''Just take it easy on bumpy roads, the axles are quite old and not as strong as they once were.''
The inside of the workshop was dark and dusty. Link looked around, but he could find no tools hanging on the racks on the whitewashed walls. Only the forge sitting on the right of the room, with a peculiar hammering construction made out of a long, heavy looking beam of dark wood, indicated what profession had once been practised here. There was neither an anvil nor coal for a fire. A multi-paned window looking out into the courtyard on the right of the door illuminated the room, but it was the only source of light making it possible for Link to see. The left wall showed a storage shelf near the back of the room, a few saddle racks and armour stands, and two pens, separated by a low stone wall, in which horses could be held during shoeing. Telma had placed two tubs from the wash room on the back of each, one filled with grain, the other with water. Fresh straw had been strewn on the beaten earth floor.
Clomping of hooves echoed dully as the wagon horse, a strong looking brown stallion with a white muzzle, was led into the forge by Telma. Link was just heaving Epona's saddle from her back to place it on one of the racks.
''I've got bad news.'' the innkeeper said, and Link's head shot around. ''Dr. Borville was here this morning and took a look at the boy.''
She removed the horse's halter and stroked absent-mindedly over its head.
''And?'' Link asked urgently.
''The wound is still badly infected despite our efforts to sterilize it, but it is the fact that the Zora hasn't woken yet that the doctor said is truly alarming. He asked us a couple questions, drew some blood and did some tests. In the end he just shook his head and said the Zora is beyond recovery. Worst of all, he said it right in front of Ilia.''
She pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. Anger welled up inside Link and made his hands tighten into fists. Epona looked at him in wonder.
''I threw him out after that and told him never to come back.'' she said, her voice breaking with fury. ''I did not sell my mother's necklace for him to just waltz into my place only to claim Zoras are beyond his expertise. Only to crush the last ounce of hope Ilia had in this world.''
She pressed her lips firmly together, touching the blank spot on her throat.
Link felt immense compassion suddenly flood him for the plump but strong-hearted woman standing in front of him, desperately trying to hold in her emotions. He placed a comforting hand on her arm, causing her to look at him in surprise.
''Epona and I are ready, Telma. Whatever you need us to do, we will do it.''
Tears welled up in her emerald eyes, and she took a long and hard look at him.
''I guess now we don't have a choice.'' she finally said. ''If we want a chance to save the boy's life, we have to move out today. Ilia is informed, but Borville's diagnosis devastated her. And I don't think she can take another disappointment. If something goes wrong, the journey could very well kill the boy. There are monsters all over the place, people get killed or reported missing every day. You have to be sure of this, Link.''
Looking at Epona's deep brown eyes, Link felt no hesitation in his reply. She would carry him to the end of the world and back if this was what it took to bring Ilia back to them.
''I could not live with myself knowing I didn't try.'' he said. ''I want to repay you for everything you did for Ilia. I'll be your protector, and Ilia's, and the boy's.''
Telma drew in a deep breath. ''Then it's decided. We will ride out when the travellers hit the road again. Be ready in an hour.''
Without waiting for his reply, she dashed out of the forge and was gone.
0
The world moved quickly around her. Too many things happened at once, bad things, sad things, things that made her want to cry, to hide in a dark corner. Except she was afraid of the dark even more than she shunned the many unknown people around her. Loud people, smelly men and sharp-eyed women in white skirts carrying trays with mugs on top of them. She was looked at from everywhere as she was desperately trying to find her way back. She had to get back to the boy! Where had she taken a wrong turn?
''Hey missus, you lost?''
Voices all around her. Laughter and screams building up, silencing briefly whenever she passed another table. Where was the door? The counter?
''Ilia!''
Her name! The one that had been embroided in the collar of her shirt which Temla had shown her. Temla the brave, Temla the protective. Temla the one who had saved her time and time again from the sea of piercing looks she was being given. Her strong voice echoed over the tables and made her turn around sharply. Another woman was in her way, her hair as red as rubies. She looked at her worriedly before extending her hand.
''Come on, sweetie. This is no place for you to be right now.''
No, it wasn't. She remembered her fear of this place, this noisy, stuffy room with the disgusting men roaring and laughing everywhere. But was that woman in front of her trustworthy? Was anyone?
Yes, Temla was.
''I need to find Temla.'' she said. Her own tone sounded so soft in the middle of the crowd she could barely hear it.
''You mean Telma, sweetie. She's in the kitchen.''
''Ilia!''
It had been Temla … Telma's voice that had called out to her. And the red-haired woman would show her the way. Gladly, Ilia took her brown-skinned hand and let it pull her out of this mess. Behind her, a few men hollered and whistled, making her cheeks burn up with shame. But there was the counter, almost as high as her, and the door leading to the much quieter place she always got water from for the boy. Her friend.
Telma appeared before her. ''Sweet Din, there you are! Thanks, Noora, I thought she'd wandered into the streets.''
''She almost did, Mistress.'' Noora answered, her tone slightly annoyed, before she turned back to disappear in the crowd once more. How she stood to be in that room, deliberately, was beyond Ilia's imagining.
''I remembered my name, Telma.'' Ilia told her rescuer proudly as she was being led through the pantry. She didn't like this place that much either, but it was still better than the other room. ''I kept saying it to myself just like you told me.''
''That's great, honey.'' Telma answered. Her face, briefly engulfed by darkness until she opened the back wall with the iron key, showed concentration, even worry. It did not match her words as she praised Ilia.
''Is something wrong?'' she asked while she was being ushered down the hallway with the many doors.
''No, honey, nothing's wrong. In fact, we will depart on a little voyage, you and I, so that we can help your friend.''
Like a hit on the head, Ilia felt her elusive memory crash down hard upon her. She remembered now why she had been in the other – forbidden – room. She had wanted to find that man again, the one with the huge glasses on his nose magnifying his eyes to make them as big as saucers, with the grey tufts of hair standing out like rabbit ears from his head. The man who had hurt her friend, had made him bleed, only to say he could not be saved.
She felt a cry rise in her throat. ''Telma! He said he'd die! He'll die! I – I'm so sorry, I did everything you told me! I – I don't want him to die! Please, you have to help him! You have to –''
She felt Telma's thick arms wind around her tightly until her cries were muffled by the woman's large chest. The warmth radiating from her felt comforting, reassuring. Everything will be all right, that warmth said. Her sobs quieted down immediately.
''That is why we're leaving, honey, to help your friend. But I need you to calm down, all right? I have a few tasks for you to do before we go. Listen to me carefully.''
Rapt like a hawk, Ilia listened to Telma's calm words, making notes inside her head so that she wouldn't forget. Then she ran off down the ladder and into the room she had been sharing with her friend for the last few days. She hurried through it, collecting her clothes and as many spare blankets from the chest she could carry, dragging them back up the ladder and dropping them in the corridor leading to the pantry. She had found the Zora collapsed in the fields near a large stream, and his body had been covered in glistening pieces of jewellery; earrings hanging from the two broad flaps on his head, an ankle bracelet with a shining blue peal set in a silver ring and encircled by swinging lines of gold. But the most beautiful and intricate was his necklace taking up most of his upper chest, composed of an array of necklace types, one a peal string, another a tight neck band of gold, the last a series of small shells cascading down towards a golden triangle set with sapphires. She carefully packed the treasures into a leather bag and fastened it to her belt. Lastly she covered the suppurating stab wound on the Zora's left side with fresh dressings, gingerly lifting the boy's moist body to wrap the linen bandage around his middle. And while going by these chores, she constantly muttered to herself. ''My friend is going to be all right. My friend is going to be all right.'' It had been Telma's last task appointed to her.
She had just finished wrapping her friend in a linen sheet briefly dunked in water to keep his body cool and wet when Telma entered the room. ''Ready, honey?''
Following the innkeeper, who was carrying the Zora up the ladder and through the corridor, she kept muttering the phrase to herself.
In the kitchen, the tiny man named Bat, who Ilia had met a few days ago and who always made her laugh, was standing with a cloak draped over his shoulders at the door leading into the courtyard. The cook, Agus, stood next to him and wore an utterly troubled countenance. Ilia had never been out the wash room door, but looking through the window on the right, she could see a covered wagon standing in the alley, a brown horse tethered to it. The sun had vanished from the sky, leaving behind a grey emptiness that made her feel gloomy. To distract herself, she kept her eyes on the sleeping Zora.
''And be sure to find Louise for me, all right?'' Telma said to Agus. ''I just don't know where that cat ran off. And I got enough things to worry about!''
The cook nodded but didn't look any happier.
''I will try to lure them away, but you will have to be quick.'' Bat said in his foreign accent. Every time he pronounced a word containing the letter R, he'd make the sound in the back of his throat instead of with his tongue, which gave away the impression he was constantly clearing his throat. It might very well have been this that made Ilia laugh so much.
''It doesn't have to be for long, just long enough for our fugitive boy to get through. For me they won't look twice.''
Bat looked like he wanted to hug her were it not for the boy in her arms, so instead he bowed deeply in front of her, and Ilia saw a little colour flare up in Telma's chubby face. ''You're such a harlequin, Bat.'' she chuckled. ''I'll see you outside the gate.''
With this they stepped out into the courtyard, and Batreaux continued down the alley at a quick pace.
The floor of the wagon had been cushioned with a mattress and as much as half a dozen blankets, as Ilia found out upon looking inside. Telma had also packed a large basket with provisions, and a total of four water skins laid next to it like dead game. Ilia stepped into the wagon after Telma and watched how the barmaid carefully laid her friend onto the mattress.
''Be sure to keep him cool and moist, like always, all right honey?'' she said. Ilia nodded and knelt down next to the Zora. Telma moved to the driver's seat at the front, but before she took hold of the reins, she beckoned Ilia over to her.
Ilia had been so focused on the Zora that she had missed the second horse standing next to the wagon, carrying a simple leather saddle with a rolled-up blanket fastened at the back and two saddle bags on either side. A bow and quiver were attached to the rolled-up blanket. It was a beautiful beast, its coat a flaming red despite the grey afternoon sky. Traces of black dust were smeared into its white mane, as if it had rubbed its neck against the inside of an oven. At the sight of the horse, Ilia's eyes briefly unfocused. She saw the flash of an image, a red horse ready for a long journey, a shining sword attached to its saddle, and caught the whiff of pine and earth mixed with an animal smell, almost like goat. Then it was gone.
''Honey? I'd like you to meet our escort for the journey. He's kindly proposed to ride with us, and protect us on the road should we get into trouble.''
Ilia saw a figure step around the horse, alarmingly shorter than the mare. He wore a pine green tunic with a wool cloak around his shoulders. The handle of a sword looked out from beneath it. The man himself was very young, probably just a few years older than her, and had the most striking blue eyes she had ever seen. He wore a long green cap matching his tunic over sandy coloured hair, and long Hylian ears reached back around the rim of the hat. He was smiling, but the smile did not reach his eyes. It looked polite but forced, though she could not fathom why.
He nodded briefly at her. Ilia smiled back, but somehow his intense look made her blush. She couldn't help but notice that he was extraordinarily handsome, so unlike the other men she had seen in the forbidden room.
He approached the wagon and looked at Telma. His voice was deep, calm, but had a certain strength and confidence to it that made Ilia feel at ease instantly. ''How are we going to avoid the soldiers from Nayrunis?''
''Don't worry about it, honey.'' Telma answered. ''Bat has it covered. We'll take the eastern exit and then round the city wall to the Southern Road. I need to see how fast I can go with this wagon, Rod said it was a tad weak on the axles.''
The young man was about to turn around to mount his horse when Ilia called him back. ''I'm sorry, but you never told me your name.''
He paused and hesitated briefly, as if mulling over if it was all right to give her his name. In the end, he told her.
Ilia's eyes unfocused again. ''Link…'' she muttered. She saw the image of a large tree at the corners of her vision, but it was not just a tree. It had a door and windows, and a ladder leading up to it – a tree house!
Then it was gone. She lifted her head, and saw Telma as well as the man look at her intently, as if expecting something. She grew uncomfortable; had she missed something? Then it dawned her. They were waiting for her to introduce herself as well and thank the man.
''My name is Ilia.'' she said, and smiled again, hoping to have loosened the situation. ''I will never in all my life forget your kindness, Link.''
His eyes suddenly darted to Telma, a mix of astonishment and confusion glistening inside them. The barmaid gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, and Link's face dropped. When he looked up again he was smiling, but now it was even colder than before. Disappointment was largely written across his face, disappointed he quickly hid by lifting the hood of his cloak and mounting his horse. Next to her, Telma gave an almost inaudible sigh.
''Did I do something wrong?'' she whispered into the barmaid's ear. Telma took her into a quick hug and stroked her hair.
''No, sweetheart, everything's fine. He's not very talkative, is all.''
Link nudged the horse's side with his feet, and the mare broke into an excited trot. Seconds later, the wagon started rolling down the alley after them.
Telma looked back at her from the driver's seat as Ilia sat down next to the Zora.
''Holler when you need anything, honey. It's gonna be a long journey.''
Just before the figure of Link disappeared from Ilia's view, blocked by the driver's seat, she saw him lift a hand to his face. Maybe it had just been a fly harassing him, but Ilia could have sworn she saw him wipe away tears.
000
Author's note: This chapter, albeit taking criminally long to write, was very fun to create. I am not only building up all sorts of things for future chapters (maybe even books, who knows?) but I am also playing around with languages and dialects.
The Nayrunis soldiers as well as Batreaux speak in French, the language used by the upper class of Lanayru Province which is known for its advanced level of scholarship and knowledge. Being aware that not all of you are familiar with this language, I have translated their phrases below.
''Maîtresse''
''Mistress''
''Faisable''
''Feasible.''
''Vous, jeune homme, oyez nous pour un moment.'' (oyer being an old version of the word écouter, which means to listen)
''You, young man! Listen to us for a moment.''
''Est-ce votre cheval?''
''Is this your horse?''
''Bonne journée, mes seigneurs!''
''A good day to you, my lords!''
''Mes seigneurs.''
''My lords.''
''Pas très dégourdi, vous savez c'que j'veux dire.''
''Not very bright, if you know what I mean.''
''Monsieur pâtissier''
''Mister baker.''
''But don't count on me to save your derrière all the time!''
''But don't count on me to save your butt all the time!''
''Dégoûtant!''
''Disgusting!''
''Mon ami.''
''My friend.''
''Mon garçon.''
''My boy.''
Link passed all of his life in Ordon, and has been in contact with many people from the southern Province that speak the Ordonian dialect, for which I chose our world's Scottish accent. And upon doing some research I found a neat website called whoohoo . co . uk featuring a translator that translates normal English sentences into a written form of a number of British accents. I played around with it for a bit, and came up with these tongue twisters that Link uses to lead the poor Nayrunis soldiers astray. It is not too difficult to figure out the meaning, but I translated them as well just in case.
''Ah beg yer pardon, guid sairrr, but Ah cannae kin a wuid yoo're sayin. Ye will hae tae spick clearly if ye want somethin' frae me.''
''I beg your pardon, good sir, but I cannot understand a word you're saying. You will have to speak clearly if you want something from me.''
''Ay coorse thes is mah cuddie. Ah hae hud 'er since she was a wee lassie. We ur oan uir way tae th' markit tae seel uir mushrooms.''
''Of course this is my horse. I have had her since she was a young girl. We are on our way to the market to sell our mushrooms.''
''Wa dae ye want tae ken?''
''Why do you want to know?''
''Wa dae ye ask?''
''Why do you ask?''
''Och aye, Ah am. But Ah was brooght up oan an Ordonian farm efter mah parents sent me thaur coz Ah wisnae bricht enaw tae become a scholar.''
''Oh yes, I am. But I was brought up on an Ordonian farm after my parents sent me there cause I wasn't bright enough to become a scholar.''
''These men th… hink 'at Epona is th' swatched cuddie they ur lookin' fur! It's nae mah faut, master!''
''These men think Epona is the stolen horse they are looking for! It's not my fault, master!''
See you next chapter!
DR