10
The coffin maker's wife and the Apothocarist's apprentice arrived in the village shortly before nightfall. The days were growing shorter and shorter as Autumn crept closer. Soon, the equinox would be upon them, and then the world would tip into darkness, preparing for hibernation.
Bella found them accommodation at an inn near the edge of the village, and while she bartered for two rooms, Jasper tended to the horses and Bear, making sure all were properly watered and fed for the night.
When he returned to the inn, it was to find Bella sitting at a small wooden table, a large metal cup between her palms, her eyes unfocused as she gazed outside.
"Any word?" Jasper asked, sliding in across from her. She turned her gaze to him, and he was struck by the depth he saw in her eyes. He felt her worry, even if she didn't articulate it too much.
"None yet," she answered, sliding a mug toward Jasper. He took the ale happily. "Tomorrow we need to ask around in the village."
Jasper nodded as he took a large drink from his mug.
"Don't worry, mistress," he murmured, setting the flagon down on the table. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "We'll find your husband."
He spoke with the confidence of someone young enough to still hold blind faith.
Bella gave him a thin smile.
The innkeeper's daughter appeared, bringing them both hot meals, and Jasper dug in immediately, happy for the food. Bella gazed down at the roasted chicken and felt her stomach curl. She was too nervous to eat.
She longed to be out in the village, knocking on doors, looking for her husband. She longed to demand answers, to learn definitively if they were even on the correct path or not.
Her husband was a formidable man. It would take nothing less than divine intervention to stop him from returning to her.
She feared what the silence from him meant.
"You should try to eat, mistress."
Her heavy eyes turned to Jasper, who was nodding toward her plate encouragingly. "We've had a long day, and we're likely to have a long one again tomorrow."
She nodded, bringing the plate closer to her. "You're right," she muttered softly. She wasn't hungry, but she knew she needed to keep up her strength. She'd do her husband no good if she was faint with hunger.
She ate what she could, and when she couldn't take another bite, she offered the rest of the food to Jasper. He was a growing lad and he happily accepted more food.
They ate in relative silence, though Jasper offered commentary on the food or their surroundings every few minutes. Bella offered him thin smiles in return. He could see Mistress Masen was weighed down by her concern, and he wished there was anything that could be done to help her.
The door to the inn opened, bringing in a frigid breeze as well as four new patrons that slung themselves at the bar. Jasper turned, hearing them each order a pint of ale.
"It should be a double," one man groaned. "It's not a night for sober contemplation."
The other three men crossed themselves and swore under their breaths.
"What's out there?" the innkeeper asked, pouring the men their drinks.
"Nasty rumors," a man on the end said. "They say the dead is walking."
Bella sat up quickly, her eyes sliding to the group. "The dead walking?" she asked before she could stop herself. The men turned to her at the bar. "What do you mean the dead are walking?"
One man grabbed his pint and settled at the bar, his eyes narrowing on her. "Now what would that have to do with a pretty little thing like you?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think the dead are walking?" she asked again, her voice even.
The man stared at her so hard that his gaze felt violating. "You're asking too many questions," he growled. "Perhaps a full throat will shut you up." He grabbed at himself through his trousers, the meaning of his gesture unmistakable. Jasper was on his feet so quickly that his chair scraped the ground and clattered backward.
"That is enough, sir!" he shouted. "I demand an apology at once!"
Beside the foul man, his companions were a range of amused and mortified at his behavior.
"Little pup trying to bark for his mistress?" The man sneered at Jasper. "Run home, little pup. Leave this to men."
The innkeeper cleared his throat. "Now, James. That's quite enough. I won't have you speaking to my patrons that way."
They all turned their attention to him.
Bella's face was warm from her anger. Not at the way the man spoke to her, because she was quite used to foul-mouthed men. No, she was angry because she knew that no matter what she did, she would never have enough power in this group of men. No one would believe her; no one would take her seriously. There was a good chance no one would even listen to her.
"What makes you think the dead are walking?" she asked again, her anger making her voice tight.
One of the man's companions turned to her. "We saw her, the Dead Witch, not an hour ago."
Bella froze. This was the second time she'd heard reference to the Dead Witch. "Where?"
They all eyed her warily. "Up near the cemetery," he said finally. "You won't find her though. She slipped into the night."
He crossed himself, and beside him, his comrades did the same.
Bella was out the door before anyone could stop her.