There was that river again, flowing even faster than she remembered. It looked like early spring, clear and cold and bright with the occasional silver fish darting across the path of the boat, diving out of sight, resurfacing again. There were others – every time she tried to look at them their faces blurred and she had to turn back to the water, watching the small ripples spilling across the prow, people moving indistinguishably on the banks of the river and the occasional head turned in her direction as they passed by.
She could hear snatches of their conversations now, words about people and places that meant nothing and yet made perfect sense to this person, this incarnation of herself, if she could call it that. The wind was blowing and her blue gown was made of something so light it almost seemed to be a part of it, twisting gently in the breeze, brushing against her fingers and ankles noiselessly, gently. Lifting part of the skirt with her hand, she studied the material as it swam in and out of focus, decorated with something she couldn't quite make out. Circles. Miniature suns. Stars. That was what they were, golden stars. It seemed almost whimsical, but the fabric tingled under her touch and she dropped it abruptly.
Something pressed on the top of her head – a hand? – and grew slowly heavier, and she tried to turn around but couldn't move at all, and the beautiful light fabric of her dress suddenly felt thick and heavy and there was a steadily growing ache on the back of her neck that she just couldn't explain. Suddenly a wind she hadn't realised was there blew hair in front of her face, and she lifted a heavy hand to push it aside but she was still unable to move, and then she was sitting on something hard with something leaning on her that muffled her breathing, and then her green eyes flashed open.
Alara moved her shoulder – first the left, then the right, gingerly. Everything looked exactly the same as it had when she'd fallen asleep. Or perhaps not quite everything; she recognized what she was looking at but it wasn't the last thing she remembered, and then she realized that she'd been turned around by Sam, who was asleep with his head leaning on hers. That explained the weight, at least.
She sat still for a moment, wondering whether or not to wake him, when she felt him shift slightly behind her back and realized that he'd slept between her and the direction the wind was coming from, which explained how surprisingly warm she had found herself upon waking. He lifted his head from hers and yawned loudly, moving slightly away from her and stretching his legs out.
"I guess we're both up early," Sam said with a grin, covering his mouth as he yawned again. "I'm sorry about moving you after you fell asleep, but I was afraid you'd catch a throat cold being right in the path of the wind, so I leaned you on this rock in the hopes it would block most of it." Stretching his arms high above his head, he studied the terrain with clear hazel eyes, trying to calculate quickly how much distance they could cover if the weather stayed the same, Charter willing.
"Motherly of you," she replied with a smile, folding arms across her chest and following his gaze. "What are you looking for, anyhow?"
He was silent for a moment, staring wordlessly off into the distance before clearing his throat and turning back to her, seating himself cross-legged on the ground. "Nothing, really. Weather patterns. How far we're likely to get today. I feel I should warn you again, even though they probably mentioned it already - this isn't going to be a terribly short journey, and we have a ways to go before we even reach any major settlements where we can get new supplies."
"My headmistress told me I was going to the north, as far north as I could possibly imagine," Alara replied thoughtfully, hugging her knees tightly as a gust of wind ruffled her unbound hair again. "I suppose I've always wanted to leave Ancelstierre, and now I'm here, on my way as far away from it as possible." She smiled briefly, turning one of her pale hands palm up and staring at it for a moment.
Sam frowned thoughtfully, remembering his observation from the previous night. "There's a glacier in the far north end where a - well, I suppose you could call them a group for lack of a better word - anyway, where a group of people live. They're kind of like a tribe, I suppose; they're very connected with the royal family at least, and most of them are distantly related to us in one way or another. I was just thinking about how you reminded me of one of them last night - they have a kind of clairvoyance based on Charter Magic and generally spend their days being quiet and mysterious. At least, the ones I've met."
She grinned widely, shaking her head. "So now I'm quiet and mysterious? If Nicholas were here, he'd laugh at you for dead certain." Tucking her hair behind her ears to get it out of her face once and for all, she stood up and stretched her arms above her head the way he'd done a few moments before, rising to her tiptoes for a brief moment before coming back down and seating herself on the rock. It was one of the few times in her life that she'd ever slept with her clothes on, and the first time she'd ever gone on to wear those clothes the next day.
"I didn't mean that," Sam said quickly, but she shook her head gently and waved a hand at him.
"Don't work yourself up over it," she said, smoothing her skirt with her hands. "How far are we going to go today, then?" The horizon was still as empty as it had been the previous night, an indefinite grey blur past waving tall grasses, without a sign of settlement in sight. She realized that by looking in the other direction she couldn't see the Wall, either – it was vaguely like being lost, and she hoped that he knew where they were going.
Sam was presently occupied at folding the blanket, which he did with a deft twist, strapping it to the outside of his bag and double-checking the leather ties. "Perfect," he murmured absently, giving them one last tug and shouldering the bag with a heave. "Wait, sorry? I got slightly distracted for a moment, and I didn't catch that."
She looked up, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, I just wanted to know how far we were going today – I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle," she said half-facetiously. "Not that I mind a whole lot at present, I just want to make sure we won't be doing this for another week." Pulling her lightened valise towards her, she pulled the ties tightly and wound them in an extra knot, her knuckles whitening slightly.
"What? Oh, yes I rather think – that is to say – I can carry that for you if you'd like, is it heavy?" He was still a little logy and sleepy, blinking rapidly to fight off the fatigue that still hung over him. "Anyhow, we're now heading towards the river, and I'd say we should be there in another three hours; that's good news for you because we'll be going upstream but Charter Magic can power the boat, but there will be no more walking involved and it will be a little warmer by this afternoon, I can tell." Sam paused, breathing heavily for a moment.
Instantly brightened by the prospect of no more walking, Alara twirled around with her arms out before scooping up her bag in both hands and practically dashing off across the prairie.
"Wait!" Sam called after her, picking up his own knapsack and running after her, still breathing hard. "Alara! You're going –" To his utter astonishment, she was dead-on, heading directly for a river she probably hadn't even known existed before he told her about it.
Stranger and stranger, Sam thought to himself, vowing to catch her and make her slow down before he did something very unbecoming, like faint. Brushing a curl out of his face with a frustrated hand, he caught up with her at last, nearly knocking her over with his knapsack.
"What's in that bag?" she said curiously, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It seems a terrible lot of things for a man to need on such a, well, simplistic journey as this one."
Sighing theatrically – though with a faint hint of a smile – Sam held the bag out to her and tilted his head to one side. "It would be, but it's not all my things. Here." He pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper, tied with a bit of string. "It's a dress, and you have to wear it, because that's how the game goes. So go into the forest and please put it on, because it will probably be much better for this climate than the awful woollen things you're wearing now." He let go the packet with one hand and clutched his knapsack, using the other to swing it back and forth, rather like a pendulum.
Frowning slightly, Alara snatched the packet before she got dizzy and opened the top, trying to peer inside. "I can't even see what it looks like, actually," she said nervously. "If this is heinous, I'm going to wear something from my valise, whether it's appropriate or not." She grinned a little and wrapped her arms around the bag, walking briskly towards the seclusion of a grove of trees not far from where they had been standing.
"If you put on clothes made in Ancelstierre I guarantee they'll fall apart in a matter of hours," he called, hands cupped around his mouth so she could hear him.
"I suppose that's a chance I'm willing to take, depending on how bad the dress is!" she called back over her shoulder with a grin, disappearing into the trees with the bag pressed against her chest.
Once she knew she was out of sight from the villagers wandering around the busy riverfront, Alara slipped out of the thick coat she was wearing and undid the clasp holding the skirt up around her hips, shaking the heavy woollen garments off and shivering briefly in the brisk morning air before taking the mystery gown from the bag Sam had given her and examining it in the dim green light. It was rather nondescript – something very light and blue, subtly patterned, very familiar . . .
Fortunately for her, no one was around to see her nearly trip on a tree root as she realized that it was, in fact, the dress from her dream of the previous night.
She stepped into it much more gingerly than she'd shed her other clothes, pushing her arms through the sleeves and feeling around for a zipper in the back of the gown before realizing there probably wouldn't be one. "Blast!" she cried in a very unladylike fashion, fighting the urge to do something like stamp her foot in a sudden rush of frustration and hopelessness. Why would she have been expected to know how to lace up the back of a gown, for heaven's sake? The whole thing reminded her of a princess in a fairytale, but a fairytale princess would probably have someone with her to help her do things like that, wouldn't she?
In a flash of brilliance, Alara stuck her head out from behind the tree she was standing by. "Sam!" That was his name, wasn't it? "Sam!" He'd turned around and was looking at her, cupping a hand over his ear and shaking his head. "Curses. Er, could you come over here a minute?" He probably couldn't hear her, so she beckoned quickly with her arm (which was clothed, fortunately) and ducked back behind the tree.
The sudden noise of him crashing through the bushes immediately next to her made her jump, and though she was dressed, she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. "I, ah . . ." He was looking at her inquisitively, and she couldn't stop from laughing briefly at herself. "I'm sorry, but I'm absolutely incapable of fastening the back of this dress, however it's done, so do you think you could help me?"
Much to her surprise, Sam merely shrugged and nodded briefly, walking around behind her and pulling the edges of the dress together. "It's really not that difficult with practice," he said, the closeness of his voice to her ear causing her to start slightly. "Usually girls wear tunics if they're not doing anything important – my sister does, at least – but there's a trick to doing this if you haven't got a maid to dress you." He held the edges together with one hand pressed against her back, taking both the strings in his other hand and placing them in her hand, which was hanging loosely by her side. "Okay, now separate them, one in each hand – no, that one goes in your right hand – okay, ready? Pull, as hard as you can."
Alara pulled, and to her amazement all the complicated twists of string in the back snapped taut and the dress immediately tightened, binding her chest so tightly that breathing was slightly difficult.
"It's supposed to be that way," Sam said, as if reading her thoughts. "We should get on this boat sooner rather than later, though, so if you're ready?"
"Hm? Oh, certainly," she replied a little breathlessly, trying to be short with her words as she tiptoed out of the clearing, the bag in her arms now full of her discarded winter clothing. The dress hung loosely around her legs, the material somehow lighter than silk but smooth as water against her skin, though the long sleeves were cumbersome and kept catching on stray branches. Sam was about ten paces in front of her, so by the time she stepped back into the harsh sunlight and her eyes adjusted, he was already near the dock waiting, leaning casually on his sword – he hadn't been carrying that the whole way, had he? At least, if he had she would surely have remembered it.
In any case, she quickened her pace slightly, narrowly managing to avoid stumbling more than once as she came up to him, still holding the bag tightly. Her black, unruly hair in her eyes nearly completed her transformation from Ancelstierran schoolgirl into – well, Sam still wasn't sure what she was going to become, but he couldn't have imagined her more different from when he'd met her, which had unbelievably only been two days before. Journeys tended to have that effect on one, after all – camaraderie, it was called.
"You look – different," he said, wanting to say nice but changing his mind at the last minute. "If you'll hand me that bag, I'll put it on the boat with my things, and we'll set sail. You don't get seasick, by any chance?"
"Never," she said thoughtfully, handing him the bag. "Not that I have a lot of experience with the sea to begin with, but the few times I've been on boats, I've done fairly well. I'm fond of water." She smiled slightly, pushing the hair out of her face. "You can go first, though."
Sam grinned, tossing the bag on the deck, where it landed with a loud clunk. "Oh, no – I hope there was nothing valuable in there," he said nervously. "Or anything fragile, for that matter. Glass bottles?"
"No, no. Just steel containers. Hand-forged, I assume, as they were provided by our Magistrix, who seems to know about things like this." Alara followed him aboard and immediately ran to the prow like a girl, leaning forward so the spray from the river flowing against the boat brushed across her face, waking her up even more.
Behind her, Sam whispered Charter marks for direction and speed, secured the bags to the side of the boat with a knotted rope, and they cast off.
