86
"They're gorgeous. Just how I'd hope they would be," the customer assured, admiring the flowing trousers. Haiven smiled tiredly, happy that the hours she had stayed up the night before had been worth it. This commission had been trickier than most—generally the cloth she embroidered was thick, but the trousers the customer had brought to her to embroider were made of a very thin material. Mistakes were difficult to unpick—she risked tearing the thin fabric each time she did so, so she had worked hard to get each stitch right the first time.
"How much do I owe you, again?" the woman was asking, and Haiven flipped through the booklet she had made that depicted various prices. She found the correct page and turned it around, gesturing to the section that read trousers; embroidery only. The woman leaned in, her eyes skimming the page. "Three rounds," she realized. "Now I swore that you said it would only cost one round when I was first ordering them."
Haiven met her eye and raised an eyebrow. I most certainly didn't tell you anything different…considering that I couldn't have TOLD you anything at all.
Of course, she had no way of telling the lady as much, so she gestured to her no haggling sign with an apologetic shrug. The woman deflated a little, but finally dug into her money purse to fish out the rounds. There had only been a couple of times when Haiven had had to resort to haggling because the customer wouldn't pay up, and she wished she could devise a better system. At most stalls, people pay a price for a visible product—you don't want to pay, you don't get the product. But when people came back to her after she had spent hours on their wares only for them not to be willing to pay her a fair amount…that's when she got frustrated. Even if she withheld the product, she had already spent so much time and effort into the customized piece. She had to admit, at times like that, she understood why Alan didn't waste any extra effort on his own stall, though she knew he was barely making enough selling his stew to meet the cost of making it right now.
Haiven yawned, glancing at the setting sun as the customer headed off. The crowds had thinned dramatically, and it was definitely time to call it a day. Haiven packed up the embroidery samples, price booklet, and bolts of cloth into the large bag she toted to and from the stall each day. People told her she should get a cart to make her life easier, but a cart would only enable her to bring more stuff she didn't need. She had learned that she never needed as much as she was tempted to bring. A bag she had to carry made it so she couldn't tote more than she needed to.
The rounds the woman had paid were carefully added to Haiven's coin purse, which she tied tightly before wedging it in the middle of the cloth and samplers in the bag. After a quick look around to make sure that she hadn't left something, she started heading out of the market.
There were plenty of other stalls to meander through in order to reach the path that would take her to the nearby merchant's village where she and the others lived. She found herself waving at various other stall keepers, many of which she knew by name, even if she couldn't actually greet them by name. Her heavy bag bounced against her leg as she reached the outskirts of the market at last, and she shifted the strap on her shoulder so it wouldn't dig in so much. Haiven began heading up the hill, planning what she would make to eat once she reached her tent in the village on the other side. However, as she began to reach the crest of the hill, she realized that she could hear somebody trudging quickly up the hill behind her.
A flash of unease hit, and Haiven fingered the small dagger that she kept hidden in her vest. Up until now, she had only ever used it to dice vegetables, but she carried it with her in case she ever needed it for more. Haiven turned to face the on comer, but when she caught sight of who it was, she relaxed.
"You okay?" Alan asked, frowning at her as if he had noticed her unease. Haiven nodded, trying to act like she hadn't been worried in the least. She normally tried to walk with other artisans heading back to the village, but her last client had requested a sunset appointment, which meant she was leaving later than usual. However, Haiven didn't want Alan to think she couldn't take care of herself—she already had plenty of people in her life of that opinion.
When Alan continued to study her, Haiven took a step toward him so she could wave off his concern. However, when she got a good look at him, she noticed the bruise. She frowned, thoughts of preserving her own independence fading as she moved to get a closer look. Alan went from looking worried to withdrawn, and he shied away as Haiven reached up to touch the tender area along his jawline. "I'm fine," he insisted.
What happened?
"Made a mistake with one of the hoofers I'm training at Pescar's fortress," he offered indifferently. "I'll live. What are you doing walking back so late? You're usually finished hours ago."
Haiven huffed, feeling defensive all over again. Late pick up. Happens sometimes.
Alan's expression was hard to read, and he glanced back down toward the market. "You really shouldn't make the walk alone," he pointed out flatly, and she bristled.
I can take care of myself.
"So can I…but it doesn't stop you from hovering over my stall every couple of days," he pointed out. His hand was resting on the hilt of his sword as he frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe I should make it up to you by walking you home every night."
Haiven scowled and turned to head back up the hill. He kept up with her easily, and she tried to sign to him as they went. You don't have to do that. I'm fine.
For the first time that evening, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Call it payback."
Rook had pictured the moment that her recruits finally became part of the fortress guard differently. Maybe it was unrealistic to expect too much spectacle and fanfare, but she had at least pictured some kind of ceremony. Instead, Mahlyn had gathered all the guards and recruits to the training field and had let them all know that from that moment forward, the top tiered trainees were considered to be full-rank guards. They received orders to move all new guards into the barracks, told that their orientation into their newest responsibilities would begin the following day, and dismissed for the evening.
Rook had watched it all with mixed feelings. It wasn't exactly how she would have handled it herself, but she supposed she should ultimately just be grateful that Mahlyn had listened to her and finally done what could have been done months ago. After the guards started moving off the field, she realized that the newly-promoted recruits had stayed behind, staring at her as if waiting for something more.
Rook glanced over at Mahlyn, who had remained behind as well. The Captain of the Guard seemed to realize the same thing that Rook did, because her expression darkened.
"You were given an order," she reminded. "Go collect your things from the training rooms and move them to the barracks. Your day begins early tomorrow."
Some of the recruits moved to leave at last, but there were still quite a few who remained behind, still staring at Rook. Mahlyn shot her an unamused look, and Rook heaved a sigh.
"What? You become guards and you stop doing what you're told?" she snapped. "Get to it, already. That's your boss now, if you didn't realize." She gestured to Mahlyn, and the new guards finally started moving. Rook watched them, but when she caught sight of a group of teens, she cursed softly. "Wait—you three in the back. You know who you are."
She marched across the field after them, and she watched the teens stiffen before glancing back at her. She fixed them with a long look. "Mahlyn might not have mentioned it just now, but I know I have in the past. You're in the top tier…but you can't be fully incorporated into the guard force until you're eighteen. Leader's orders."
Two of their faces fell, but the third became defiant. "If you guys are promoting everyone out of the blue like this, it means that something's up," she pointed. "The leader needs all the help he can get."
"Not your help. Not yet," Rook said firmly.
"So…what? We get demoted into the second tier to keep training?" one of the others asked, his brows furrowing.
"No one's getting demoted."
"There are only like five of us who are underaged. You're just going to keep training five of us by ourselves?" the last one muttered.
"Look—I'll figure out what the path forward looks like," Rook said, her tone sharp with a reprimand. "But Theodynn's already made himself clear: no one under 18 in the guard force."
"How do you know we're not?" the girl asked. "It's not like you know when we were born."
"We don't even know when we were born," one of the others pointed out bitterly. Rook frowned, and he shrugged at the look she gave him. "When you're born into slavery…ahem…servitude under Ottan…nobody keeps track of stuff like that."
Rook was silent for a few minutes, and she could see it in their eyes. They were ready to take on the next step, and they were sick of people underestimating them for something they couldn't control. For a moment, her resolve flickered, but then her expression hardened.
"I know you think you're ready, but I'm not going against Theodynn's orders," she said decidedly. "Maybe he'll change his mind…but it's not my decision to make. In the meantime, be up at dawn. You're still part of the first tier, and I still expect you to show up for training. Yes, there are fewer of you…so maybe consider it a chance to get some more personalized instruction."
Their disappointment was obvious, but Rook wasn't going to let it faze her. She raised an eyebrow, her cue that she was waiting for a response, and the trio glanced at each other.
"Understood," they mumbled, and she watched as they turned and headed back toward the barracks. She kept her expression stoic, though inside, she knew exactly how they felt.
Rook turned to head back inside and noticed that Mahlyn was still watching her with an unreadable expression. She waited to see if the Captain of the Guard would question or chastise her further, but Mahlyn finally turned to leave, and Rook wasn't going to stick around to tempt an argument.
Her mind whirled with everything that she still needed to do as she wove through the hallways. She had spent the day trying to remember all of Theo's responsibilities so that she could make sure to take care of them all herself in the coming days. Dynmar had reluctantly agreed to help with some of it, and she knew Mahlyn would insist on doing others, but there was still enough on her plate that Rook felt a little overwhelmed. Even without the very-real possibility that someone had targeted Theo and could possibly strike in the coming days, a leader carried a lot of responsibility, and honestly, Theo's shoes were going to be hard to fill.
Rook made it to Theo's quarters, and she gave the guards the evil eye. Either they decided it really wasn't worth it to keep arguing with her, or Theo had revoked his command to keep her out, because they moved and allowed her entry. The second she entered his sitting room, however, the smell of smoke caused her heart to leap to her throat.
She made it to the door of his bedroom quickly, whipping it open to find the source of the smell. When she caught sight of the room, she froze as she attempted to process what she was seeing.
"Careful!" Ylba snapped from her spot on a cushion in the center of the room. "You nearly knocked over my crystal arc."
Rook glanced down at the stones that were scattered all around the room in random patterns. Candles were stuffed in every nook and cranny, and smoking herbs hung from the ceiling—no doubt where the pungent smell was coming from.
"What did you do?" Rook finally demanded, waving a hand to try to clear the haze in the room.
"My job, obviously," Ylba pointed out. "You're interrupting a very important process!"
Rook ignored the woman, her eyes going to where Theo was in bed. He seemed out cold, and she made her way over to where he was sleeping.
"Watch out for the crystals!" Ylba snapped, and Rook had half a mind to kick the scattered garbage on her way. However, she did her best to avoid the clutter as she reached him at last. She had been desperately hoping that he would seem better tonight than he had that morning. He seemed all right at first glance, but when Rook reached out her hand to touch his face, she cursed when she realized how hot he still was.
"Don't you wake him up," Ylba growled. "I just got his soul to settle."
"You what?" Rook demanded, turning to glower at the leader. "I've seen how healers treat fever, and this is not it. You're supposed to be giving him tea, and a poultice to keep him cool. Have you actually treated him at all?"
"Look…you don't see me following you around telling you how to do your job," the frizzy-haired healer pointed out. "Physical healing can't happen properly when he's got so much gunk in his metaphysical presence!"
"I don't even know what you're talking about," Rook snapped. "But I know that he's worse than he was, and all this…this junk isn't going to help him sleep better! It's a wonder he can even breathe, with all this smoke in here!"
"More than anything, he needs rest, but his mind wasn't allowing him to rest," Ylba sniffed defensively. "There's too much darkness clinging to him. His soul is like a bog of—"
"His soul is fine. Your job has nothing to do with "souls" and everything to do with actually breaking fevers."
"If you had seen him an hour ago, you wouldn't be arguing with me," the healer said, folding her arms. "Tossing and turning and screaming out…how's a body supposed to heal, when a mind is being tormented? All this "junk," as you call it, is the only thing blocking out his nightmares and giving him true peace."
Rook resisted the urge to throttle the woman, glancing back at Theo's expression. He did look peaceful, if not haggard, and she felt a twinge at the thought of him having nightmares. "Did you give him actual medication or not?" she finally demanded.
"Yes. He finished his tea an hour ago. Now get out of here. You're tarnishing the effects of my soul-cleaning atmosphere with your presumptuous attitude."
"Don't tell me what to do," Rook ordered coldly, and Ylba huffed.
"Fine. Then I'm going to go get something to eat. Maybe flirt with the stone wall standing guard at the door. My mistake for putting someone else's needs above my own."
The healer sauntered from the room, and Rook shook her head in annoyance before turning to where Theo was lying. She wanted nothing more than to wake him up, even if it was just to prove that he could wake up, but she couldn't help but think about what Ylba had said. If Theo really had just barely drifted to a deep level of sleep, she probably should let him rest.
"You know, I'm not overly fond of how vulnerable you look, just lying there," Rook murmured as she moved brush back his sweaty hair. "I've seen you go from being dead asleep to battle ready in seconds…but looking at you now…you look like you could barely lift a shuriken."
He didn't respond, and Rook chewed her lip as she glanced around the haze in the room.
"Mother of a dragon, there's no way you're going to be able to sleep well with all this crap in the air…but of course, your room doesn't have any windows I can open." She rubbed her face as she studied the hanging, smoking herbs critically. "I need to get a healer…a real healer. Any chance you know where I can find one of those?"
Theo didn't answer, and Rook sighed heavily, sinking down into the chair by the bed. "I could go to your parent's fortress…there's sure to be someone capable there. But once your parents know you're sick…" she trailed off, not even sure how to finish the thought.
Theo shifted slightly in his sleep, and Rook winced. She shouldn't keep talking to him, or she would wake him up. But maybe she would feel a little better if she did. Rook reached out and put a hand on his forehead, wishing that she knew enough about healing herself to know how to cool him down.
"How about you get a good night's sleep, and I'll make sure someone competent is looking after you in the morning, okay?" she murmured. After studying him for a few more minutes, Rook kissed the hand she was holding and then stood to leave the room. She had a message to send.
Alan stared at the roof of his tent, unable to fall asleep. His mind kept looping the events of the day, and he couldn't help but be irritated with himself. It would have been just as easy to merely escort Haiven back to the village each night without involving himself in the thugs plotting to rob her. Or, he could have even brought it up to Pescar and gotten an escort assigned, or at least reported the problem. Instead, he had decided to directly involve himself.
The three men hadn't been that hard to chase off. It didn't take long for them to realize that his skill level was greater than theirs—by the time he had disarmed the man with a weapon, they decided it was in their best interest to leave. Alan didn't bother pursuing them; what was he supposed to do? Run them through? Arrest them? He wasn't a guard here, or even part of province patrol. He was a stew merchant, and by the threats the men had shouted at him while they retreated, he had already made some enemies.
Alan rubbed at the bruise on his face, annoyed that one of them had managed to get a hit in. He supposed it was a good thing that the brutes didn't really have any idea who he was. If he ran into them again in the market, there might be trouble, but it's not like they knew where to find him.
Just then, the sound of a foot scuff sounded outside Alan's tent, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "For the love…" he muttered under his breath, rolling quickly off his bedmat and onto his feet. It could be nothing, but then again, who would be wandering around so close to his tent in the middle of the night? He pulled his sword from its sheath as quietly as he could and moved to stand with his back against his tent next to the door flap. If someone tried to come in here…
"Alan?"
He flinched at the hoarse whisper coming from the other side of the cloth wall. While he tried to process whether he had imagined it or not, the voice grew a little louder.
"Alan? You in there? Ancients…now's not the time to be a heavy sleeper."
He finally recognized the speaker, and Rook jumped in surprise when he threw open the door flap to find her out in the moonlight.
"What in Kahzym's tragic name…" he started, but Rook cut him off.
"I know it's the middle of the night," she offered. "But would I be bothering you if it wasn't important?"
He scowled at her in response, though a niggle of dread tugged at him. "What's going on?"
She fiddled with her braid before sighing. "I need to talk to Haiven."
It was the last thing he was expecting. "What?"
"I need to talk to Haiven!" she repeated, shooting him a defensive look. "But I don't know where her tent is. I only knew how to find you."
"Ancient's, Rook...what's going on?" he demanded.
"I need a healer, okay?" she offered with a flush. "The one we have at the fortress is proving to be useless, and I couldn't think of anyone else who I could count on to be discreet…"
"Discreet? Are you having woman problems, or what?" Alan tossed his sword back into his tent, now that he knew he didn't need it. In the moonlight, he could see Rook's face turn crimson.
"It's Theo!" she snapped. "He's sick, Alan…and I need someone who knows what they're doing to treat him!"
Alan's heart fell, and he scanned the woman closely. "How sick?"
"Would you just help me find Haiven?"
"Is he on death's door? Is that why you're showing up here in the middle of the night—"
"He's okay," Rook countered. "It's fever. Or at least…that's what everyone thinks it is." Alan furrowed his brow in confusion, but she didn't give him a chance to ask follow up questions. "I just need to find a healer who I can trust to take care of him who won't go and get the Rulers involved. Haiven's the only person I could think of. I mean…she treated you, right? She's got to know how to treat a fever."
Alan rubbed his face. "She'll probably know how to help," he agreed reluctantly. He moved out into the moonlight so he could point to the other side of the village. "Her tent is near the border…you can't miss it. It has embroidery all along the edges—hoofers and fish and stuff."
"What happened to your face?" Rook demanded, and Alan glanced over to see her staring at him. He realized that the bruise was probably more visible now that he wasn't lurking in the shadows, and he sighed.
"Nothing. But be careful when you go to wake Haiven up—I almost put a sword through you. Haiven'll probably do the same, if you catch her off guard."
"Um…" Rook hesitated, and he raised an eyebrow at her sudden sheepish look. "I was hoping you would come with me to talk to her," the woman admitted at last.
"Why? I don't have any more of a right to go wake her up in the middle of the night than you do."
"I can't communicate with her!" Rook insisted. "I know you can…I've seen you guys talking together."
"She can hear and understand people just fine," Alan pointed out. "Just tell her what's going on."
"But I won't be able to understand her reply. Please, Alan? Just come help me talk to her."
Alan rubbed his face again, not sure how Haiven would react if they both woke her up in the middle of the night. "You're sure Theo isn't dying?" he demanded at last, meeting Rook's eye challengingly. "Because you doing this seems pretty desperate. If he were doing okay, you would have sent a messenger-"
"I didn't want to trust this information going to the wrong people—it seemed best to just take care of it myself," Rook cut in.
"—or you would have at least waited until morning to come get help," Alan finished. "Be honest, Rook…how bad is he? And what's your plan here, exactly? Drag Haiven to the south in the middle of the night?" He shuddered. "The area between here and Theo's fortress is crawling with all sorts of problems, Rook. Sniffers, unsavory characters…"
"I wouldn't let anything happen to her," Rook insisted defensively. "And I had to come tonight—there's too much I have to do in the morning. I'm training the recruits at dawn, and then I have to meet with that clerk guy who's name I can never remember who's going to go over the taxes we've been collecting, and by noon I'm sure the village reports will be rolling in—"
"Wait. Are you running the south right now?" Alan realized.
"It's just temporary, while Theo gets back on his feet," she muttered.
"Um…you sure there isn't more going on here?" he asked. Rook wouldn't meet his eye, and Alan finally sighed. "If he's on death's door…you should go find someone else. Not that Haiven isn't trained, but if she has to see him like that…" he trailed off.
"I…I just need someone who can help break the fever. Theo says it's not out of the ordinary for him to get sick like this. The healer we have now just can't even handle the basics of healing."
Alan nodded slowly. "Well…if he's not that seriously ill, I'll bring Haiven to the fortress tomorrow morning."
Rook's head snapped up as she finally met his eye. "Absolutely not," she hissed. "Alan, as far as your enemies know, you died in the snitch pit. If you show up in the south again…"
"There's no point in waking her up in the middle of the night and making her travel all the way to the south right now, if it isn't urgent," Alan insisted. "You've already said that you can't wait around until morning…but I'm not sending her by herself, even in the daylight."
"You're not sending her?" Rook repeated dubiously. "Are you in charge of where she goes, now?"
Alan scowled. "She's never been to the south," he said flatly. "And she would be willing to risk the trip alone, once she knows it's about Theo. But it's too risky a trip for someone who doesn't know the area."
Rook returned his irritated look, but he could tell his argument made sense to her. "I'll send her an escort once I get back to the fortress," she finally decided. "Will you at least explain what's going on? Then the escort can help her get to the south safely tomorrow morning."
Alan frowned, but he decided it was probably the best option they had…unless he told Rook that she couldn't involve Haiven at all. Which…wasn't really his decision to make. "Fine. I can fill her in," he finally muttered.
Rook nodded her thanks, but her eyes were still flicking over his face. "Since when are you so protective of her?" she asked.
Alan snorted. "I'm not," he insisted. "I just would rather not have anyone else get hurt by making reckless decisions in the south."
Rook's expression softened. "Fair enough," she offered. "I have one last favor."
"For who? Me or Haiven?"
"I just need some information and I wondered if you could help," Rook admitted. Alan's expression clouded, and she sighed. "I promise, I won't involve you more than that. But…any information you have would be really helpful."
"Information on what?"
"Have you ever heard of someone named Fazir?"
Alan thought about it. "Name sounds familiar," he admitted. "Someone who's causing problems?"
"Yeah, it sounds like it. I just don't know how worried to be."
"If it's the guy I'm thinking of, he was one of Ottan's advisors. From what I could see, he liked to talk big but wasn't really the person to go out and get results. Honestly, I would expect more trouble from Ern, now that Torsoh is dead."
"Ern?"
"I pointed him out back when I was at the fortress," Alan reminded. "During one of Theo's speeches—he was there with another one of Ottan's advisors. I'm not sure what problems Fazir's causing, and maybe I don't really want to know…but I don't really peg him as the alpha sniffer, if you know what I mean. He's probably following someone else's orders."
Rook nodded slowly, her expression clouding. "Okay. Any chance you know where to find any of these people?"
"Not technically." Alan furrowed his brow in thought. He glanced up at her as an idea hit. "Have you guys stationed guards at Ottan's house?"
"Um…I don't think so. Do you really think they'd be meeting somewhere so obvious?"
"It's a nice house," Alan admitted. "Even if it isn't the center of their crimes, I'm betting if you kept an eye on it, you'd find at least one of Ottan's cronies is camping out there. Either someone still devoted to Ottan who will be protecting his interests from scavengers, or someone who thinks they have the right to his home now that he's not around anymore."
"That's a good tip," Rook decided, meeting his eye again. "Thanks."
"Sure." Alan shifted his weight. "Are you really going to go all the way back tonight? You're not invincible, Rook. It'd be smarter to wait for daylight."
She flashed him a smile. "I'll be fine. You're sure you can talk to Haiven for me?"
"I'll talk to her tomorrow," he agreed.
"I really appreciate it." She moved to leave, but then paused. Alan waited for her to ask yet another favor, but instead, the woman came closer and hugged him. Alan stiffened, making no move to reciprocate, and Rook flashed him a smile as she released him. "Keep out of trouble," she said, and then she was leaving at last.
87
Theo woke to his head pounding, and the smell in his room made him think he was in an entirely different place. He tried to roll over, but cursed when he realized how heavy he felt.
"Sleep well?" A voice asked, and he turned to see Ylba sitting nearby, giving him a look that was far too knowing.
"Um…" Theo managed to lift a hand to his face, trying to clear his blurred vision. "I think so? I don't really feel better…but I guess I do feel rested."
"Your soul's been in turmoil for a long time. I can tell. It was time somebody tried to get it back under control."
Theo turned to squint at her. "Should I be understanding anything you're saying?" he mumbled. She didn't answer, and he realized she was packing up a basket. He struggled to sit up, trying to see what she was packing up.
"Lie down, or you'll use up the little energy you just managed to store," the healer snapped, stuffing further items into the comically large basket.
"What is all that stuff?"
"Remedies only Ylba has unlocked…but it's clear they're not wanted here." She sniffed. "So I'm packing it up."
"What?" Theo muttered, sinking back down into the bed as his head spun. "What are you talking about?"
"My replacement is on her way, I'm told…so I'll just be heading back to my quarters. Well, with the assumption that they are still my quarters…but who knows anymore." She sniffed.
"Replacement? Who's replacing you?"
"Ha. It's cute you think people actually tell me things." Ylba lifted the basket, which nearly dwarfed her. "Now, I'd ask for a hand with this, but you're probably useless right now. Guess I have no choice but to drag the eye candy standing guard at your door into lifting this for me." She chuckled, but as Theo studied her in confusion, her expression sobered. "Try not to die, all right?"
Theo stared, but she was already moving out of the room. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry and he couldn't quite manage it. He twisted, locating a cup of water sitting on the table nearby. His body begged him to stay put, but the longer he stared at it, the thirstier he got.
"It's three feet away," he muttered to himself in annoyance, forcing himself closer to the edge of the bed. He had to rest at the edge of the mattress, and he closed his eyes as a wave of nausea hit. Deep down, he couldn't ever remember being this sick, but he also tended to think things were easier in the past than they were. Getting fever always had him bedridden, so there was no point in overreacting about this now.
Theo lunged for the cup of water, which was frustratingly just far enough out of reach to make the grab difficult. Rather than clasp the cup, Theo's hand knocked into it, sending it flying. He tried to catch it out of habit, but all he managed to do was put himself at odds with gravity. He hit the floor with a groan, the clay cup shattering and sending water splashing in all directions at the same time.
"Crown of Kahzym," he muttered, trying to use his arms to push himself upright. However, they gave out on him, and he spent a few minutes fuming on the ground, furious at his helpless state. "Just get up," he muttered to himself, but another attempt made his stomach clench, and he found himself relaxing onto the floor to keep himself from throwing up.
His plan had been to just rest for a few minutes until his head stopped spinning, but he realized he had dozed off as soon as a frantic call jerked him back awake.
"Theo!"
He grimaced, realizing with annoyance that parts of his body had gone numb from his involuntary nap. The leader tried to roll over before Rook reached him, but he didn't manage to keep himself from looking pathetic.
"I'm fine," he assured weakly. "Just fell out of bed."
Her concern was obvious, but he was glad she at least tried to smile. "Well, don't do that, you idiot," she offered, immediately kneeling to help him back up. It took longer than he would have liked to for them to get him positioned back on the bed, and his face burned with more than just the fever.
"How are you feeling?" Rook asked, cupping his face now that he was back in bed.
"Eh…I've been worse," he offered with a breathy laugh. She didn't look like she believed him, and he glanced back at the shattered cup on the floor. "I hate to ask…but I'm dying for something to drink."
"Next time, ask sooner," she chided, immediately moving to leave. He watched her go, his head pounding from the exertion of getting back up off the floor. It didn't take long for her to return, but he had already fallen back asleep when she did. As he felt her cold hand touch his face, however, he opened his eyes.
"Back so soon?" he joked.
"Don't choke on this," Rook ordered, putting a cup of cold water to his lips, and Theo relaxed as his thirst was finally satisfied.
"Thanks," he murmured.
"Someone's on their way to start actually looking after you," Rook promised, though something in her expression was hard to read. Theo furrowed his brow as a sudden fear took hold.
"You didn't go to my parents, did you?"
She glanced at him and smirked. "Not yet. Why don't you get some rest, and I'll wake you up when she gets here?"
Theo continued to frown, but he was admittedly exhausted from the past twenty minutes. "I'm sure I'll be doing better by tomorrow," he said at last. "Just…tell Yearnly that we can postpone our meeting about the tax report…and maybe talk to Mahlyn about sending someone to check on the patrol at the pit…". He closed his eyes, wracking his brain for what else needed to be done.
"Hey, you just focus on getting better. Leave everything else to me," Rook said. "I met with Yearnly this morning, and I'll head to the pit later today.
"You don't have to do that," Theo murmured, his eyes still closed. "As soon as I'm back on my feet…"
"I know," Rook assured, and he could feel her hand in his. "But you don't need to worry about anything. It's all handled."
He meant to answer, but his mind was foggy, and the longer his eyelids stayed closed, the heavier everything felt. Before he knew it, he had slipped back off to sleep.
There was no fire in the forge when Tolan entered, and it didn't take long to locate Teag. The teen was fast asleep sitting at the work table, and Tolan studied him a few seconds before coming the rest of the way into the room. The black iron short-sword that Teag had been working on the past two days was lying on the table near him, and the teen didn't stir as Tolan reached out to pick up the finished weapon.
Tolan had seen black iron weapons before, but he had never really felt the need to work with the obstinate southern metal. Perhaps it was because the people who had taught him how to blacksmith had been so dismissive of it. Most people considered black iron overly expensive considering that its main unique features were superficial. A black blade might have a sleek aesthetic, but a quality blacksmith could craft an alloy that was just as durable for cheaper than it cost to buy the dark metal itself.
Tolan gave the blade a few practice swings, noting that Teag had managed a good balance with the hefty metal. The strange curve Teag had insisted on hadn't ruined the overall integrity of the blade, though it did look odd to see a curve on a short sword. The edge had been sharpened, but as Tolan ran a finger along the blade, he could tell it hadn't been fully polished yet. As he caught sight of the whetstone Teag was still clutching, he smirked.
The younger blacksmith finally stirred at the scrape of stone on blade, and Tolan continued to polish the short sword as Teag grimaced and rubbed the spot on his face that had been resting on the table. Then the teen was looking over, and Tolan glanced up to meet his eye. He waited for Teag to snap at him, but instead, the younger blacksmith just stared at Tolan with a stony expression.
"It's a good blade," Tolan finally offered, looking back down as he finished polishing the surface. "You'll have to get a custom sheath made, now that it's done."
Teag didn't reply right away, staring at Tolan with a strange look of mistrust. He finally reached out to reclaim his project, and Tolan handed it back.
"It's not done," Teag muttered. "I still have to add leather to the hilt…and an insignia." He used his own whetstone to continue the polishing process, and Tolan slowly got to his feet.
"The blacksmith who runs this forge was kind enough to give you a second day here," the man pointed out. "But he can't entertain you longer—he's going to fall behind on his own tasks."
"I'll help him catch up," Teag growled, stiffening protectively around the blade he was polishing. "I just need a few more hours…"
"Hot-Stuff."
Teag's expression crumpled at Tolan's tone, and he finally pushed himself to his feet. "Whatever," he muttered. "I'll find somewhere else to finish it." He headed toward the entrance to the forge, not even glancing in Tolan's direction. Tolan followed him out into the light of morning, fiddling with the hilt of one of his katanas that was hanging by his side.
"I might know a place where you could finish it up," he called. At first, he wondered if Teag was ignoring the offer, but then the teen slowed. He glanced back, his eyes narrowing.
"Where?"
Haiven had explored the realm more in the past years than she had in her entire life, having been to much of the East and Central provinces. She had even visited the west and north once or twice while she and Theodynn had been together, but the south was one place she had never been before.
She shifted her position on her hoofer as she followed the man dressed in southern livery on his own hoofer in front of her. The mountains that had always been so distant were closer now than they had ever been, and Haiven tried not to think too much about whether or not people were lying in wait behind the formations they were passing. She had heard too much about the south to relax, but she couldn't help but feel fascinated. In some ways, the south looked exactly like the rest of the world, but it was different in other ways. She could see the fortress in the distance, flanked by colorful stalls. The market was allowed to be that close to the fortress? In the East, there was an unspoken law about how close the market was allowed to encroach, and it was a significant distance. Here, it was almost impossible to tell where the market ended and the fortress began.
A whiff of spices hung in the air, and it made Haiven think of Alan. Part of her wished that she had let him accompany her after all. He had offered to, after showing up at her tent and explaining everything going on. Given everything that had happened to him in the south, Haiven had insisted he stay behind, but now she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread as she traveled through the place that she had heard so much about. If she at least had someone with her that could understand her, she might have felt better.
"You doing okay back there?" the man asked, turning to give her a hesitant look. She flashed him a smile, though her stomach was still tying itself in knots. As daring as she had been trying to be in the last few years, this excursion was pushing her comfort level in a whole new way. However, how she felt about making a journey on her own to the south paled in comparison to the anxiety she felt knowing that Theodynn was sick. She and Alan had reached the same conclusion that if this Rook person was desperate enough to come to Haiven for help, it must be bad.
"Welcome to the South," the guard offered as they began approaching the fortress at last. "Ever been here before?"
She shook her head, and his brow crinkled.
"You're… a quiet type of person, aren't you?"
Haiven shrugged, her heart pounding with apprehension now that they were here. What if she found out that Theo was on his deathbed? What if he had already passed away in the night? By the time their hoofers had been admitted into the fortress walls, her hands were shaking.
The guard dismounted and then moved to help Haiven, but she managed to dismount herself before he reached her. He seemed unsure of what to do next, so he grabbed the reigns of her hoofer. "I'll put him in the stable," he offered, and she nodded her thanks.
I'll come with you…I don't know where I'm going, she tried to sign, and his brow furrowed with further confusion.
"Um…are you okay?"
Haiven heaved a sigh. I'll join you, she tried, this time as slow and meaningful as she could. Before he could answer and let her know whether or not he finally understood, another voice called out over the courtyard.
"Crown of Kahzym, you really came."
Haiven stiffened and turned to see Rook coming toward her. Haiven kept her expression polite, though she still wasn't sure exactly how to feel about the cocky, self-assured woman. She knew that Theo liked her—she could see it, every time they were together. That knowledge alone was enough to make her feel wistful, and even a little jealous…but to complicate matters even more, Haiven was all too aware of what this woman had once done to Theo. She remembered the talk Haiven had had with the Heir, all that time ago when he had explained who the woman was who he had brought to Iona, and what she had done to him. He had claimed then that he didn't have deeper feelings for Rook, but Haiven had known he was lying, even then. Haiven knew she didn't have any claim to Theo, not after turning down his proposal. However, it never really sat well with her that the woman he was with now had once betrayed him, given that Haiven still cared about him.
"Did you bring healing supplies?" Rook asked as she reached her. She had her characteristic braid, but the clothing she was wearing was more formal than Haiven had seen in the past, and far more "oni" than the strange clothes that she tended to wear—the ones Theo had explained came from Ninjago.
Haiven shook her head in answer to the question as she signed. I'm not really a healer, you know…not full time. Rook's expression clouded, and Haiven knew she hadn't understood what she had tried to say. However, she at least understood the head shake, and she nodded to herself.
"Right. We'll swing by the healer wing and gather whatever you think you'll need for fever. Then I'll take you to see Theo."
Haiven nodded her understanding, and Rook studied her closely. Haiven met her gaze, trying to appear confident, and the other woman finally glanced at the guard who had accompanied her.
"Thanks, Dynmar," she called, and the guard held up a hand before guiding the hoofers toward the stables. Then Rook motioned for Haiven to follow her before making quick strides back the way she came.
They walked in silence, and Haiven wasn't sure if she was grateful for it or not. Rook didn't understand her well, so it's not like she could have really held a conversation anyway. However, there was a tangible tension in the air, making Haiven pick at a loose thread on her embroidered tunic. As they traveled, Haiven glanced at the stone walls and shuddered. She had never felt comfortable inside fortresses—as much as she had once tried to feel at home within them, they always felt like cold, stone prisons. She had already spent too much of her life cooped up inside stone walls, and the grey stone all around her felt even more claustrophobic than the sandstone of her childhood home.
"The healing wing is just up ahead," Rook offered, and her tone was hard to read. Would Haiven call that aloof? Or just professional? "I swear, if Ylba's gotten rid of the things that we actually need…"
Haiven frowned in confusion, but she followed dutifully as they reached a door. Rook pounded on the door twice before opening it herself, and inside, a frizzy-haired woman looked up in annoyance.
"What now?" the stranger snapped, but she answered her own question as she looked around Rook and met Haiven's eye. "This my replacement, huh? She seems to be traveling pretty lightly to be moving in."
Haiven felt a flash of fear—Alan didn't say anything about moving down here. However, Rook snapped at the older woman quickly.
"She isn't moving here, Ylba…she's here to actually treat Theo's fever, since you haven't been."
"Fine. Remain ignorant to my talents," the woman sniffed in reply, and Rook turned to motion to Haiven.
"Do you see anything in here you can use?"
Haiven pushed her way into the room, taking in the mess. Growing up with Iona, she had learned how to find what she needed in a cluttered space. However, this took everything to a new level. Iona at least stored her herbs separately. Here, there was a huge muddle sitting on a table in the center of the room, and Haiven shook her head at the complete chaos.
"There's plenty to use," Ylba sniffed in defense. "You just have to know where to find it." She reached into the mass of dried roots, leaves, and flowers, and Haiven blinked as the woman managed to locate the ingredients for fever tea. She tossed a few wilted fever-leaves her way, and Haiven managed to catch them before they hit the ground. "I mean, I still doubt there's anything this waif can do that I can't, but what do I know?"
Haiven just stared. She hadn't really interacted with any healers outside of Iona and Hershel; was this how other healers were?
"Do you need anything else?" Rook asked, and Haiven looked down at the crumbling herbs she had been thrown. After a quick inventory, she shook her head, and Rook nodded to herself.
"All right. I'll show you where he's sleeping."
Haiven glanced over at her, but Rook wasn't meeting her eye. Haiven shifted the herbs in her grasp, trying to get a better hold on them without breaking them down any further. Rook had already turned to leave, and Haiven couldn't help but glance back at the other healer. The frizzy-haired woman met her eye and smirked.
"Now this is an interesting tension in the air…isn't it?"
Haiven narrowed her eyes, turning to follow Rook since she doubted she could even really answer in a way that the other healer would understand. Silence fell again, and Haiven wondered what Rook was thinking. Why had she sent for Haiven, of all people? Were there no other healers here in the south?
Eventually, they reached a door flanked with guards, and Rook motioned for them to move. They did so, and Haiven frowned. How much power did Rook have here in the south, anyway? She followed Rook as the other woman beckoned her into the room. The second they entered, Haiven wrinkled her nose. The air was ripe with the sickly smell of illness, and she immediately began looking for a window. Good insulation was an important aspect of recovery, especially from fever…but she didn't see any windows anywhere.
"He's in here," Rook offered softly, leading her to a doorway on the other side of the sitting room. Right before Rook entered, she hesitated and glanced back at her. "He…doesn't know that you're coming."
What is that supposed to mean? Haiven wondered, but Rook was already pushing the door open. The smell of fever grew worse, and Haiven chewed her lip as she moved into the bedroom. It was grander than Theo's bedroom back at his parents' fortress had been, and she paused by the doorway. A lavish rug was spread on the ground, and the furniture and artwork scattered around was high quality. She wasn't sure why it took her off guard so much. After all, she had always known that Theodynn was the oni heir…so why was it so strange to actually see him in a true position of consequence?
"He's asleep," Rook offered, and Haiven's gaze flicked to Rook who had moved to the edge of the bed. Theo was indeed asleep, and the tattooed oni furrowed her brow as she moved across the room to see him. It was clear he was sick—even without getting close, she could see it. She moved to clear a nearby table of its knickknacks, and Rook watched as Haiven set the herbs down and immediately began sorting them. She turned to the other woman, trying to communicate what she was going to need.
A bowl of water, she tried to gesture. Cold water. After several tries, Rook seemed to understand.
"And rags?" she guessed. "For his head?" Haiven nodded, and Rook immediately began moving to the door. "I can get those."
And a kettle! Haiven motioned. For tea! She pantomimed pouring and drinking tea, and Rook nodded again.
"There's a hook above the fireplace you can hang it. I'll have a servant light a fire…"
Haiven shook her head adamantly. It's already too hot in here. We need a window.
Rook hesitated, studying her closely until the motions that Haiven was doing seemed to click. "I know…but the leader suit doesn't have any windows. It's so nobody can use them as an entry point to sneak in while he's asleep." Haiven's expression darkened in concern, and Rook headed for the doorway again. "Right. Bowl, water, rags…a kettle of preboiled water."
Haiven nodded her thanks and finally turned her attention to Theo. Her stomach clenched as she approached him, sinking into the chair next to the bed. He looked haggard, and she reached out a hand to see how bad he was. His skin felt like it was on fire from the inside, and she grimaced—this was a high fever. Worse than she could remember treating in years.
Oh, Theo…
88
Rook forced herself to focus on getting everything Haiven had asked for as quickly as she could. She reminded herself that it was good that Haiven was here and knew what to do. Theo was getting worse—finding him on the floor that morning had made it clear to her that he was getting weaker.
She managed to find everything relatively quickly, but it was tricky finding a way to carry both a bowl of cold water and a kettle of boiling water at the same time. She finally managed to carry one in each hand, and the guards at Theo's door gave her a quizzical look before opening the door to emit her.
"I'm such an idiot," she muttered softly, looking down at the rags soaking in the bowl. "Of course we should have been putting cool rags on his face. Why is it no one thought of that?"
She was grateful to see that the door to the bedroom was still cracked open, making it easier to enter with her hands full. However, she realized she could hear Theo speaking as she drew closer.
"Well I'm glad you made it here safe, at least." He sounded tired, but happy, and Rook cursed herself for hesitating. However, she couldn't help but look through the crack, spotting Haiven sitting next to Theo's bed. The tattooed woman was signing something, and Theo shook his head. "Yeah, she's interesting, for sure. Not exactly sure I understand her methods."
Rook tried to force herself to enter the room, but her feet felt frozen to the floor as she watched them interact with each other. Haiven made a few more signs before she reached out to feel Theo's face. He smiled wearily, reaching up to hold her hand where she was resting it against his forehead.
"I was just surprised," he pointed out. "But I am glad you're here. I know I'm in good hands."
Rook closed her eyes as she was overwhelmed by a feeling she couldn't even define. Jealousy? Fear? Bitterness? Whatever it was, she took a deep breath and ignored it, pushing her way into the room. Haiven and Theo both turned to her. The healer's expression was hard to read, and Theo offered a smile.
"There you are," he started, but Rook avoided eye contact as she moved to set down the things she had collected.
"I'm glad to see you awake," she offered, trying to smile as she set the bowl and the kettle down. "Um…this is everything you asked for, Haiven."
The healer stood and came over, and Rook barely acknowledged her grateful gesture. Suddenly, the room was more stifling than ever, and she wasn't sure she could keep her emotions in check if she stayed.
"Rook—" Theo started, and she forced herself to look at him.
"I've got a few more things to take care of, but I'll come touch bases with you tonight, okay?"
He frowned, and Rook headed for the door as fast as she could. She didn't wait to see what else Theo or Haiven would say, or even the looks they would give her.
It doesn't matter, she reminded herself as she headed for the hallway. The important thing is that he's finally getting the help he needs. That's all that matters now, Rook.
Once she was out in the cooler air of the fortress corridors, she took a deep breath.
Besides, she reminded herself. I have bigger fish to fry.
Teag studied his sword as he followed Tolan, wondering if it was even worth it to ask any more questions. They were heading away from the fortress to one of the nearby villages, and Teag assumed they were going to a forge of some kind, and it must not be too far, if they were making the trip on foot.
Teag ran a finger along the edge of his blade, wondering why Tolan hadn't said more about it. Part of him wanted to believe that it was because he had finally accomplished something worthy of Tolan's approval, but he mainly suspected that Tolan didn't feel it worth the time to even comment on. As much as Teag wanted to be proud of the sword, he knew there were things he could have done better, and the fact that Tolan hadn't pointed them out like he used to do made it feel like the older blacksmith couldn't be bothered to care.
"Do you know all the blacksmiths around here, or something?" Teag finally asked, glancing up at Tolan.
The man turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"
"You knew the one at the Central Fortress, and now we're heading to some random village forge with a blacksmith you already know."
"I don't know any village blacksmiths," Tolan corrected.
"Then how do you know there's someone who will let me use their forge?"
Tolan shrugged, and Teag huffed with irritation. He could see the village they were heading to in the distance, and he frowned as he studied it from afar. "That doesn't look like it's a big enough place to even have a forge," he pointed out. "Is that where we're going?"
"In the West and the East, forges do tend to only be in large villages, but that's not the case everywhere," Tolan pointed out. "You weren't alive during the Dragon-Oni war, but the Central Province used to be a large hub of dragon hunting and enslavement. Nearly every village in the province used to have at least one forge, if only to craft chains and weapons on-site. Most of them have been abandoned, as there's no war to keep up the demand for local blacksmithing. Some were kept active, though they're used to make hoofer accessories for the ranches rather than weapons or armor."
"So, that's where we're heading?" Teag realized. "To a forge full of hoofer-shoes?"
Tolan smirked then. "No. The forge in this village was abandoned, and it fell to complete shambles. Someone even took the anvil."
Teag felt a flash of anger. "Then why did you make me walk all the way out here?"
Tolan's gaze slid back to the irritated teen, and his smirk grew a little. "Because, Hot-Stuff. It isn't abandoned anymore." He began speeding up his pace, and Teag muttered to himself as he sped up as well. He wasn't sure why Tolan was in such a vague mood, but it was driving him crazy.
No doubt this is payback, he thought bitterly. Because I've been so vague about what's going on in the south, so he's trying to match my energy to drive me crazy and force me to tell him everything that happened. But if that's what he's counting on, he's gonna be disappointed.
They reached the village at last, and Teag glanced around at the people they passed. There were a lot of permanent structures here—he had heard that the central province villages were leaning away from tents. The lack of tents made it more difficult to locate the forge in question; they were usually pretty easy to spot. He continued to follow Tolan as people stared at them, no doubt taking in the central-fortress guard attire that Tolan was wearing. Teag kept his head down, not really enjoying the attention. Luckily, the village was small, and it didn't take long for them to finally find the forge.
Teag came to a sudden stop as he caught sight of it. After Tolan's explanation, he had been expecting a pile of rubble…or at least a forge mired in deprivation, like the one that they had found in the south had been. This forge looked brand new, from the cleanly-cut stone to the un-chipped mortar holding them together.
"Why'd you stop?" Tolan asked, and Teag scowled in order to cover his surprise.
"Just wasn't expecting it to still be standing, the way you were going on," he muttered. Tolan gestured for him to follow him, and Teag reluctantly did so. The interior was nothing special—it was a standard forge, if on the small side. The tools hanging on the wall looked new, and the forge itself wasn't choking on ash or coals. The teen glanced around, moving over to touch the crisp bellows next to the forge.
"You sure the blacksmith isn't going to care that I work in here?" he demanded. "It looks like he hasn't even used it yet."
"Probably because he hasn't."
Teag stiffened at Tolan's thoughtful tone. "What's with the riddles?" he demanded, setting his sword down on the gleaming surface of the work table. "What's going on?"
Tolan shrugged one shoulder, looking around to study the forge with a distant look. "It took a lot of work to put it together—haven't really had the chance to actually make anything here yet."
Understanding finally dawned. "You built this place?"
"Syn kept saying I needed an outlet," Tolan explained, moving to the tools on the wall to straighten a hammer. "I've always wanted to see what it took to build my own forge. After Theo kicked me out of the south, I finally had enough free time to actually attempt it."
"You built this entire thing from scratch?" Teag repeated, looking around in awe in spite of himself.
"There were some materials still here from where the forge used to be, so I didn't have to start completely over. But I did have to ship a lot of stuff in from the North."
Teag looked around the forge with a new respect, and he finally glanced over at Tolan again. "So…is this what you're going to do, now that you're not Theo's bodyguard anymore? You're going to be a village blacksmith?"
Tolan snorted. "Not even close."
Teag furrowed his brow. "Then why did you spend all the time to build it?" he demanded.
"Just wanted to see if I could." Tolan fiddled with the bellows as he wandered. "I mean, I may come and use it from time to time, but I don't think I want to pound metal all day every day for the rest of my life."
Teag's heart had started to pound, and he glanced around. "So it's going to just sit empty all the rest of the time? Why build a forge if you aren't going to use it?"
"I didn't build it for me." Tolan shrugged in that non-chalant way he had, but he wasn't looking at Teag. "It's not as big or well-stocked as the one you came from in the south, with that fancy bellow system you operate with your feet…but it should have what you need to make whatever it is you're so desperate to make these days."
Teag just stared, trying to process what Tolan was trying to say. "You'll let me use it sometimes, you mean?"
Tolan finally looked up, and he smiled as he met Teag's eye at last. "It's your forge, Hot-Stuff. Use it as much as you like."
Rook was no stranger to these sorts of operations. When she had worked for Quazier, she could spend days watching someone to get a sense of their daily pattern before striking. She did all she could to make herself less recognizable, and then set up position to keep an eye on Ottan's mansion from a hidden spot.
So far, no one had gone in or out that she could see, but she didn't give up as the hours ticked by. There was probably a lot to do back at the fortress, but Alan had made a good point. Nobody would dare try to squat in the ex-leader's house unless they were part of Ottan's group of supporters. If she did eventually catch someone going in or out, she could ultimately assume that they had connections to the treasonous ex-leader, even if they weren't the same person that Theo's message had incriminated for trying to spread seeds of dissent from within the fortress walls.
Rook shifted her position slightly so that she could get more blood circulation. The mansion that Ottan had made for himself was near the pits, wedged in between formidable rock formations to make it seem like a mini fortress all on its own. Of course, the formations just provided Rook with a good vantage point for looking down at the suspicious building with a bird's eye view.
Maybe this is pointless, she mused, rolling onto her back for a moment to look up at the clouds in the sky. Maybe no one is stupid enough to try to squat in Ottan's home, and I'm just wasting precious time that I could be spending keeping Theo company, or at least helping the fortress stay caught up. Though, he doesn't really need me to keep him company right now, anyway.
"Cut it out, Rook," she muttered out loud, trying to keep her emotions in check. It was stupid for her to be worrying about Haiven, when she was the one who had asked her to come in the first place. However, the decision had been made between a rock and a hard place; Rook was desperate for Theo to get care from someone who cared about him enough to be committed to helping him, but she didn't want anyone who could potentially leak the current situation to Theo's parents. Rook knew she was possibly setting herself up for future disaster by keeping them in the dark, but she didn't know them very well at all—certainly not enough to predict how they would act if they knew Theo was sick. If he got better within a few days, then it would have thrown everything off for nothing. But if he didn't get better…
"He finally has a real healer looking after him. He'll get better," Rook assured herself. She studied the clouds for a little longer before rolling back over to continue her surveillance. Time continued to pass by, and by the time that the sun was starting to set, she almost called it quits. However, she decided to stick around a little longer, and it finally paid off.
A man she didn't recognize approached the house, and Rook narrowed her eyes in interest. It helped that Ottan's old home was so far off the beaten path—no one just wandered this direction on accident. The man seemed to be watching his back, glancing back every so often, but he didn't ever look up. He wasn't overly cautious about his approach—he looked like the type of person who had been doing this for a long time without running into problems. She would definitely peg him as someone who's guard was down.
The man reached the door, and Rook watched as he pounded twice, paused for a few seconds, and then pounded three more times more rapidly. Another pause, and then the door opened. The man talked to whoever had opened the door, and Rook realized she wasn't quite close enough to hear what they were saying. It was a frustrating realization, and she watched to see if the man would enter. However, rather than go inside, he waited at the door. After a few minutes, Rook watched as he received a parcel of something coming from the person inside. The door closed, and the man scoffed before opening the parcel to look in. He fingered through the contents before nodding to himself and pulling the drawstring closed. Rook couldn't tell what was inside, but she would guess money, if he was willing to waste the time to check the contents now.
The man headed off, and Rook mentally took a note of what he looked like. She didn't dare climb down from her position until he was a ways off, and then she slowly inched to the edge of the formation and began her descent. She tried to block her retreat from the house's windows—curtains were drawn from the inside, but if someone really was hiding out inside, she wouldn't put it past them to keep someone on watch at the window.
There was no real way to head down the path without being in view of the house, but she risked exposure as she moved away from the rock formation and headed back in the direction of town. Hopefully whoever was in Ottan's home were giving as much attention to discretion as the man who they had just paid.
There were more people on the pathway from the pit back to the fortress, and Rook tried to seem nonchalant as she joined with the others. She scanned the thin crowd for the man who had just been paid and panicked for a moment when she thought she had lost him. However, she caught sight of his green tunic, and she immediately began making her way after him as surreptitiously as possible.
They made it to the market, and Rook knew that she needed to make a decision. Did she dare continue following him? He was bound to realize eventually, unless he was a complete idiot. Should she apprehend him? Let him go in hopes that she'd be able to find him again at a later date? She weighed her options, and ultimately, she continued tailing him.
They made their way through the marketplace, with Rook frowning at various items she was passing, praying that nobody recognized her and called out to her. She was dressed in her homeliest looking clothing, her hair out of its usual braid and ratted a little. The dirt on her face was probably a little too much, but she figured it better to do what she had to. People who knew her well enough probably wouldn't be fooled, but with any luck, those who had only heard of her or seen her from a distance as she accompanied Theo on the fortress's balcony wouldn't put two and two together.
She was lost in thought when the man turned, and as they made eye contact, she cursed herself. The man's expression immediately clouded as he turned and tried to get lost in the crowd, and Rook tried to figure out what to do. If she followed him now, he would realize it wasn't a coincidence. For a moment, she cursed her rookie mistake, but then an idea hit. Maybe making a rookie mistake was just the thing to do. Praying that the man wouldn't realize who she was, Rook made her way through the crowd after the man in green.
Theo could see the concern in Haiven's eyes as he coughed, and he couldn't help but feel concerned himself. She slipped a hand behind his neck to support him while she tried to get him to drink some water, and Theo grimaced as he tried to force the cool liquid down. Everything felt tight, and he couldn't get a deep breath in. The tattooed young woman removed the luke-warm rag on his head, feeling his face as her brow furrowed.
The tea's kicked in, and you're feeling cooler, she signed after putting the cup off to one side and replacing the rag.
"That's a good thing, isn't it?" he asked breathily. She smiled tightly, but her concern was still etched across her features.
For now, yes. But I'm not going to feel better until the fever breaks completely. She chewed her lip as she continued. It sounds like you're having trouble breathing.
"It's a little tight," he admitted softly. Her expression clouded and she pushed herself to her feet.
I'm going to go gather up some more things that will help.
"And I should get some rest?" he guessed with a little smile. To his surprise, she shook her head.
Try to stay awake until I get back. Focus on breathing, and coughing if you need to.
He blinked. "All right," he promised. She reached out to give his hand a squeeze, and then she headed off. Theo watched her go, and the small niggle of unease that had been eating at him for the past few days grew bigger. He wanted to keep insisting that he was fine, and that he would kick this sickness for good soon enough. But with each hour that passed without him feeling better, he believed himself a little less.