The trail eventually forked and they turned a corner. Daine could hear him close; the large, dappled gray gelding stood panting on the side of the road, shadowed by the trees, eyes rolling and fidgeting where he stood. I only just got away, he said, breathing heavily. They had whips. The horse shuddered.
You're safe here, Daine soothed him, sliding off Cloud to tend to the gasping gelding.
The saddle had slipped down under his belly, and the reins were not broken, but tied to a splintered tree branch. His sides were slicked with sweat, and his dark hair matted and unkempt.
"Who names a gray horse Red?" Daine heard Numair ask no one in particular, and heard Jack shift his weight uncomfortably without replying.
Refocusing herself, Daine pulled the tree branch from the reins and took off the saddle. She ran her fingers through the sweat-soaked dappled hair and then stood next to Red, eyes closed and hand on his withers. The healing magic was simple; a strained tendon here, a few whip marks down his sides, but nothing deep. He was young, and he healed quickly. Red sighed gratefully and stopped fidgeting.
That feels wonderful, he said, although he looked around anxiously. The one on my back was starting to hurt.
Daine smiled at him. You won't have to worry about that any more. Still…
She frowned again, soothing tired, overused muscles. After a moment, and with a murmur of apology, she put the saddle back on. His sweat had dried, and the gelding informed her that he had not felt this good since he was a foal. Even still, Daine thought guiltily, she was making him work after a long run, never mind what he said. He deserved a bit of kindness.
"I'm leaving the girth loose," she told Jack, although Red protested that he was fine, "so mind your balance."
Jack nodded and approached cautiously, clearly unused to large animals. As he came up, he rested a hand on the horse's gray neck. Red snorted in fright and pranced back, rearing a little. His hooves scraped against the stone of the road.
There's something wrong with him, he cried nervously in Daine's mind. Daine whipped back at Red, caught up in his sudden fear.
What? Daine asked, alarmed. What's wrong with him?
The gelding snorted and he danced a little, tossing his head. He smells of death, Red panted, nostrils flared.
He won't hurt you, Daine assured him soothingly, bemused. Jack smelled just fine to her human nose. I won't let him, she assured the horse, and reached out to stroke his nose. He pressed anxiously into her hand.
"Is he alright?" Jack asked, having backed off at Red's obvious fright. He stood watching the horse with wide eyes, palms held out in a universal sign for peace. "Does he need to cool out before I ride him?"
Daine patted Red's nose soothingly and translated silently. You see? He is concerned for you, she added.
Red huffed and approached Jack warily, sniffing him again. The man held himself very still, watching the great, dark nose quietly. Daine's opinion of Jack rose, just a little, at that.
Very well, Red muttered reluctantly after a moment. He may ride me. But if anything dies, I'm dumping him.
"You do that," Daine told the horse aloud. She smiled at Jack, who was starting to look just as nervous as Red. "He says if anything dies, he's dumping you."
Jack quirked his lips, but his eyes were sad. "I'll keep that in mind. How do I get on if the girth's loose?" He reached out carefully to tug the hanging, sweat-soaked leather for emphasis. Red snorted at the close contact, but did not bolt.
Daine walked to Red's other side, touching his shoulder soothingly, and held down the stirrup. The gelding turned his head to watch with dark, curious eyes. The long ears pricked forward as he regarded Jack skeptically. "I'll hold it steady."
Jack mounted up, a little clumsily but nowhere near as badly as Numair—which was fair embarrassing, Daine thought with sudden amusement, eyes sliding playfully to her lover. Numair stuck his tongue out, and Daine snickered a little to herself. She checked Jack's stirrups, approved of their length, and went back to Cloud.
"We'd best get out of here, before they realize they've got a horse missing," Jack said uneasily, shifting his weight a little to adjust to the horse. He sat deep in the saddle and Red remarked to Daine, somewhat surprised, that Jack was apparently a more comfortable load than his previous rider, despite the smell.
Daine grinned, and Numair chuckled darkly. "Let them come," he said.
.
.
They reached town utterly unmolested. Jack was impressed despite himself. They dismounted at the gate on Daine's request, so she could care for the three horses. Numair tilted his head and led Jack through, and Jack's breath caught as they walked out of the shadows of the wall surrounding the town and into the light.
It was like something out of a renaissance fair.
The town was a little thing, all cobblestone and thatched roof, and Numair beckoned Jack down a winding street that opened up into a town square with a small fountain, barely more than a glorified well, in the center. Around it were stalls, rickety and wooden, brightly colored tarps strung up on posts above them. There were people in medieval garb, tunics and cloaks and breeches, hustling about in various states of cleanliness, and men and women stood and shouted their wares. It was beautiful, in its own smelly way, and Jack felt an involuntary smile, a true smile, touch his lips.
This was the kind of thing one saw when traveling with the Doctor. Jack hadn't stumbled on anything nice like this, not on his own. His smile turned into a delighted grin. This was fantastic. It was absolutely perfect. Humanity, or something like it, at its absolute finest, and it was wonderful.
"You alright?" Numair asked, glancing back at him. "Daine'll meet us farther up ahead; she's just gone to stable the horses."
"This is beautiful!" Jack enthused, turning to beam up at the other man, who was taller than him. "I mean it. It's stunning."
"Is it?" Numair asked, surveying the scene doubtfully. He seemed surprised at Jack's joy. "I was thinking it smelled sort of funny." He waved his hand in front of his nose, drawing an involuntary laugh out of Jack.
"Thank you," Jack told him sincerely and Numair gave him an odd look. "Really, thank you for bringing me here. You forget, out there…" he stopped himself before he said anything more.
Numair was still regarding him curiously. He opened his mouth to speak but Daine, who strode to them from a back street, interrupted him.
"There's a tailor a little ways down the block," she said brightly as she walked over. "The horses are in that stable." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. Numair's attention was obviously stolen away, and Jack smiled a little to himself. Numair Salmalin was clearly smitten with his Daine. It was a pity, but it was also sort of endearing. He refused to let himself think about how convenient it was.
"Thanks, magelet. To the tailor's, then?" Numair smiled and walked over to grasp Daine's hand. The gesture was a familiar one, reminding Jack momentarily of a Time Lord and a blonde girl running and laughing, and Jack just behind. He smiled a little, and let himself pretend.
"To the tailor's," Jack agreed happily and gestured for them to lead the way.
The marketplace was really quite small, but it was absolutely packed with people. Daine and Numair led Jack out off the crowded street and down another that wound in a strange sort of spiral. Jack enjoyed it immensely, thinking that it was rather like something out of an old, renaissance city. They turned another corner before Numair smiled and Daine stepped forward to knock on a door. A wooden sign hung off a pole above it, with an image of a needle and a curly, stylized thread. Not a moment later, a short, wild-haired woman stuck her head out. Her eyes locked onto Numair and she scowled.
"Back to squirm on my pedestal, Master Salmalin?"
Daine grinned and winked at Jack, who felt his own lips curl in a smile. "No, sorry, Mistress Carra," she said. "We've got a new customer for you. His coat was burned by a spidren; we were wondering if you could repair it." She nodded to Jack.
Jack, taking his cue, gave his best charming smile, although he knew it never reached his eyes. The woman looked him up and down. She smiled flirtatiously back at him and shooed the three of them inside his shop. "Let's see, then," she trilled, but as her eyes landed on the ruined coat, her face went serious. "That's very nicely dyed. Is that wool?" she asked incredulously. What, was it rare here, Jack wondered, a little bemused. He smoothed a hand down the much loved fabric.
It was army surplus, circa World War Two, a replacement from Ianto after his first got destroyed. The circumstance was not something he wanted to remember.
That was not the point. "No idea, ma'am," he said, reluctantly handing over the coat. "I just know it needs to be fixed. For—sentimental reasons." Jack swallowed. It was partially an act to tug on heartstrings, but it was also partially quite true. He really did want that damn coat fixed.
The woman grinned. She was missing four teeth. "Ah, I like a sentimental man. Let's see what we can do, shall we?" She turned from Jack to Numair and her face hardened. "Do you have payment?" she barked.
Numair sighed, although he looked amused. "Mistress Carra, you'll drain me dry one day." He passed over several coins that looked like gold.
Jack, surprised and slightly horrified, whirled at him. "No, no, Numair. I'll pay for it." He was not conning these people. They had been too generous, and Jack did not want to harm such innocent kindness.
"Don't worry about it, Jack," Numair told him. The conman in Jack was telling him that this was too easy to pass up, but Jack did not listen. Besides, he told himself, there was no challenge in taking something so freely given, and where was the sport in that?
"You saved my life and took me in, and now you're giving me gifts? Don't be ridiculous." He dug into his pocket for something with which he could barter. It was odd to be paying before the coat was fixed, rather than after, but he supposed some places were more honest than others. His fingers touched a computer chip, a ring full of poison, a very small laser gun, some loose ammunition for the revolver clipped to his belt, and a short-range teleport.
Nothing he could barter with, not here.
"You haven't got anything," Daine said gently, touching his shoulder. "Don't worry. You can work for us, or something."
He was not conning them, Jack thought furiously. There must be something he could pay with.
Wait.
"Yes I do," he said, thinking, and knelt down to reach into his trouser leg. He pulled out a long, thin gun designed to arch lengthwise and clip around his leg.
"What is that?" Numair asked, eyes gone wide.
"You don't want to know," Jack muttered, thinking silently to himself, and I'm not going to tell you. Very carefully, pointing it down and away from everyone, he tugged on metal plating. It was a laser as well, and inside were three rather sizable diamonds, used as prisms to cut the light. Manufactured diamonds were not nearly as rare as planetside ones, and Jack had two other lasers on him, never mind his much-loved revolver. He could get another. Lifting a diamond out of the center of the gun, he held it out to the seamstress. It was the size of the nail on his ring finger. "How's this?"
All three pairs of eyes bugged. "Done," said the seamstress, snatching the rock out of Jack's hand.
"Now give the money back to Numair," Jack told her firmly, and his voice brooked no argument.
Reluctantly, she did so, and Jack nodded to himself, before beginning to pack up the gun, carefully screwing the metal plating back into the side. "Come back in three days," Mistress Carra said, placing Jack's coat carefully on a hook. "It will take a while to fix; I'll have to use my Gift."
Gift? Jack thought in confusion, but Numair interrupted before he could say anything.
"Can you weave spells into it?" he asked. Jack glanced over in surprised alarm, not sure if he liked the idea, but Numair ignored him. "I should think he's paid you enough."
Mistress Carra tilted her head to one side, considering. She raised an eyebrow at Numair.
"Fire retardant," Numair supplied. "And an anti-damage spell, perhaps."
That, Jack thought, suddenly understanding, was the best idea he had ever heard. He leaped to his feet, still gripping the half-repaired gun. "And a preservative," he added eagerly. Three pairs of eyes swung to him. "Something to keep it in good condition," he amended sheepishly because that was an idiotic slip, "for as long as you can. Can you do an anti-theft spell, too?"
Mistress Carra huffed a little. "Very well. Give me five days, then."
"He needs a change of clothes as well," Daine started, but Jack shook his head, not wanting her to pay any more, although he was sure the diamond would cover it. Still, Jack thought, he wanted to be able to leave quickly if he needed to, and that meant packing light. More clothes meant more stuff to carry, and that just wasn't worth it.
"I'll wash these," he assured her.
Daine and Numair looked at him oddly, but Numair said, "Alright."
Jack nodded and put the gun back together, finally, to put it away. It would work with two diamonds, but the aim would be off, and it would probably only stun, not kill. He clipped it to his leg and then tightened the straps. That Time Lord would be proud, he thought wryly as Daine and Numair ushered him out of the shop.
"I can strengthen those spells when she returns the coat," Numair remarked as they left, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Jack glanced over. "Thank you," he replied, surprised and a little guilty. "You've been too kind already."
Numair waved him off. "What purpose did that diamond serve in that thing that you have strapped to your leg?" he asked instead.
Numair was a sharp one, Jack thought grimly. There was no way that Jack would divulge this particular information. Anachronistic technology was dangerous. "You don't want to know," he told Numair darkly. "It's a nasty thing, and it won't work now. Just as well, really."
Daine looked at him for a long moment. "You're not just a traveler, are you?"
Damn it all. Damn it all. "I'm on the run," Jack snapped, shying away from the topic of who he was and starting to walk away. His shoes made no sound against the cobblestone street. "That's all you need to know about me."
"Jack," Daine said softly, compassionately, and Jack's heart twisted painfully as she trotted to catch up, "we can help."
"No, you really can't," Jack whispered. I need to leave, he thought, frightened. I need to leave, before I hurt these people, or before I become attached. "I'll just wait to get my coat back, and then be on my way. I don't suppose there are any inns in town?"
"Don't be absurd," Numair scolded him. "You're staying with us."
Jack looked down. "You shouldn't be this kind. How do you know I'm not a conman?" He was a conman, he wanted to tell them, and every bit of kindness they showed felt like another con.
"Because you just asked us that," Numair grinned.
"Fair point," Jack muttered, and scowled. It was good acting, he thought grimly, nothing more. He shook his head. "But I really shouldn't stay with you." He could do it, too, so easily, if he wanted to. The thought was appealing. Pleasant company, good food, a soft bed—all at no price, if he played his cards right. He could stay with them for years, playing up the wounded-soldier act. Jack shivered. He had to say that being a hero was, if not easier, better than being a villain. At least he could sleep at night.
Usually.
"Work for us, then," Daine shrugged. Jack looked at her oddly. The only thing he thought that he could do for them in this particular timeframe with any reasonable amount of skill was rather obscene. Enjoyable, perhaps, but obscene. These two were too decent to want that, weren't they?
"Alright," he said doubtfully. "What would you like me to do?"
"Clean Numair's office," was Daine's immediate reply. Numair groaned, and Jack felt hysterical laughter bubbling in his throat. Too decent indeed. He stopped walking and held out a hand, unable to hide the sudden, amused grin on his face. Daine shook it.
"It's a deal," he said.