Chapter 9 - Woodrock
“This is a village?” Chalice looked over at Jeremiah, who shrugged.
“It’s on the map. Doesn’t look like much, does it?”
Before arriving in the town square, they had passed several farms along the main road. Protected by the forests that surrounded them, they sat back behind the trees where travelers could only view them from far-off. A distant look was all she needed, though, to gauge what they would find in the village.
The town square held an air of melancholy, as everything appeared to be in a state of disrepair. The village consisted of a collection of concentric, wooden shacks that had few windows, many of which were either cracked or broken. Chalice assumed that these were shops. They sat side-by-side, almost leaning on one another for support. The wood was worn and splintered with flecks of white or brown in places where the paint had not yet completely peeled off. There were no signs posted above or below any of the shops to advertise their wares, so she deduced that the town folk must not have needed them as they all seemed to know where they were going.
Many of the milling crowd displayed tired, heavily lined faces and wore dirty, ragged clothes. All of them sported clogs that protected their feet from the dirt and small pebbles that littered the tangled web of streets. Most were on foot although some rode in dilapidated wagons, with squeaky wheels, that carried farmed goods and smelled of horse and dust. In the middle of the square sat a plain, stone fountain that provided a large pool of clear, drinkable mountain water.
As they strode into the square, the people glanced in their direction. Chalice knew they stood out like a sore thumb. Not only were they of finer dress, they were also carrying a Chinuk with them, which was unheard of even in villages close to the mountain. Until this moment, it had never occurred to her that Bunejab might draw attention. The closer they rode, the more she began to itch with that uncomfortable feeling she had had in the Chinukan throne room. She could feel the glares on her back as they passed the fountain.
“Is it just me or—”
“No, I feel it too,” Jeremiah interrupted. “Let’s get out of here.”
Bunejab tapped him on the arm and pointed down a path that extended through the trees to their left. They reined the horses in the direction of the path and rode on at a brisk pace, not looking back. After a few minutes, they heard a trickle of flowing water that grew into a wide stream running parallel to the road. A large building appeared on the right side of the road in the distance.
“This way, Chalice.”
Jeremiah turned Banner to the left into a thicket that blocked them from view of the building. As they approached, walking along a winding path through the trees, the huge building swam into focus and they could see it clearly from where they were.
The sign above the front door read: Woodrock Creek Inn. It was nothing like the shacks in the town square. It looked brand new. It was sturdy, freshly painted of dark green outlined in rusty brown, and stood in between the road and the creek. A sloping mountainside of silver firs adorned its background.
The matching stable, constructed in the same color and quality, peeked out from the copse of trees on the opposite side of the dirt road. Well-to-do visitors and inn workers were bustling about in between the two structures. It appeared that businessmen and other travelers who journeyed from Auramont to Culmanoq and back frequented this inn. For this reason, it was in much better condition than the rest of the village. The melancholy Chalice had felt back in the town, however, still lingered. It was a strange feeling that she couldn’t quite explain.
Jeremiah turned to Chalice. “How are we going to get him in there without anyone noticing?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m so dumb, I never thought of it.” She paused to think. “What if we wrap him in one of the blankets to hide his face and pretend he’s a child?”
Jeremiah frowned. “Hmm … that might work. Let’s try it.”
They dismounted and Chalice removed the woolen blanket from her saddlebag. Jeremiah folded it and wrapped it around the Chinuk, clipping it in the front with one of Chalice’s hair clips that she had dug out of her bag. He pulled the hood forward just enough so that Bunejab’s face was hidden in shadow.
With his face blocked by the cloth, the little Chinuk tried to make his way over to Chalice. It was clear, however, that he couldn’t see where he was going as he headed straight for the tree to her right. Stepping accidentally on a loose end of the blanket, he tripped and fell forward into the bark of the tree. Bouncing off, he landed on the ground, flat on his face.
Chalice gasped and rushed over to help him. “You alright?”
Jeremiah let out a sigh of frustration. “Right, okay, this isn’t going to work.”
As she was holding the Chinuk in her arms to lift him to his feet, the solution came to her. “I’ve got it. You go in and get us a room. Be sure to ask for a stream side room. Tie the horses over there,” she said, pointing to the hitching post, “but take the bags with you. I’ll stay here with him until you give us a signal. Once we have it, I’ll wrap him in the blanket and carry him in my arms to the back of the inn. There’s no one back there. We can hoist him up to the window with the rope from your bag.”
“Genius!” he exclaimed. “Alright, so, what’s the signal?”
“Uh …” she brainstormed. “Once you have the room key, put the horses in the stable and I’ll watch until you re-enter the inn. After a minute or two, we’ll be there.”
“Uh, okay.” He nodded. “Here we go,” he said, walking over to the horses and grabbing the reins. He led the horses across the street and proceeded according to plan. As soon as the horses were in the stable, he disappeared again into the front door of the inn.
“You ready, Bunejab?”
The Chinuk nodded and he was wrapped, once more, tightly into the blanket. Hefting him up onto her shoulder, she inconspicuously walked out of the trees and over to the inn. No one even noticed what appeared to be a young mother carrying a sleeping child around to the back side. Once there, Chalice peered down the river rock foundation of the inn. Jeremiah’s brown head popped out of one of the windows on the second floor a few spans down. She rushed over and set the Chinuk on the ground.
“Keep the blanket on, okay?” she told him quietly and the portion of the blanket that hooded his face nodded.
“Toss me the rope!” she whispered up to the window and the end of a rope fell into her hand.
“Bunejab, I’m going to tie this around your chest and under your shoulders.”
As she said this, he raised his arms and she giggled. He looked like one of the ghosts from the autumn Festival of the Dead they celebrated in Canton each year. Once the rope was securely knotted, she gave Jeremiah the thumbs up.
Slowly, what appeared to be a little brown ghost rose up into the air in spurts until it disappeared into the window. Jeremiah’s head poked out of the window once more and he held up two fingers that he flashed at her twice while mouthing the words: “Room two-twelve.”
She gave him another thumbs-up and ran around to the front of the inn. Yes! We did it and no one saw, she told herself. At least that is what she had thought for in their haste, both of them had failed to see the dark, cloaked figure hidden in the shadow of a large tree across the stream, watching them as they worked.
The front door of the inn flew open and a tall, burly man in a smock with a leather tool belt around his thick waist stormed out. He almost trampled Chalice and barely noticed. She flung herself to the side and watched him as he turned and tore off toward the west end of the inn.
“I … I’m sorry my lady,” said the innkeeper who fumbled about in the doorway. He motioned his arms to welcome her in. “I humbly ask your pardon. That’s Jadron, one of our blacksmiths and woodcutters. He’s having a bad day. There have been too many horses this past week in need of shoeing and I’m afraid he hasn’t been able to keep up with th
e demand.” The innkeeper was short and stout, with a small, pointed grey beard and a round, friendly face. He wore a white apron over his brown shirt and britches and leather brogans on his feet.
“Oh, uh, no, that’s fine,” she stammered. “Really, it’s no problem.”
She entered the large dining room filled with polished wooden tables that sat in rows on the smooth river rock floor. The low buzz of chatter, issuing from the small, scattered groups of seated guests filled the room.
“Name’s Duncan. Pleased to meet you! Welcome to my inn!” He extended his hand and she shook it. Gesturing with his arm, he said: “This room is where we serve meals. To your left, you will find private dining rooms for rent, if you so desire, and to your right, a tavern lounge where we have music and dancing in the evenings for guests.”
She glanced around looking for Jeremiah. The walls of dark, polished wood stretched to the right and left, opening to wide hallways where men and women strode in and out. There was a door in the opposite wall that she assumed led to the kitchen.
“Will you be wanting a room for the night?” he asked eagerly.
“Actually, can you tell me how to get to room two-twelve? My friend has already rented one.”
“Oh yes, the tall, handsome boy who was just in.” She nodded. “You will want to take that staircase to the second floor. Turn right at the top and it should be a few doors down.” He pointed to the winding staircase to her left. She thanked him and excused herself.
Ascending the steps very slowly, she held the rail that was worked in wrought iron and peered behind her at the room she was leaving. She couldn’t understand the huge economic disparity between this man’s inn and the town. What happened to them? Why did the people in the village live in such squalor? She felt badly for the townspeople, but she knew there was nothing she could do. Pushing the thought out of her mind, she continued around the winding stairs until the lower room fell from view. Arriving at the top, she walked down the hallway and found door two-twelve. She knocked twice and the door swung open.
“Ah, thank the heavens!” she said as she entered. The room was decent. It held two large feather beds that were separated by a wooden bedside table. A writing desk sat in the corner near the fireplace, next to a stack of firewood, and a door to the washroom opened to the left of the beds near the window.
Jeremiah was sitting on one of the beds and Bunejab was at the desk, writing in his notebook, propped up on a couple of thick books with his little feet dangling in the air. She plopped down onto the soft, fur blanket of the opposite bed and sighed happily.
“Chalice?”
“Yeah?” she answered, turning her head on the cushion to look at Jeremiah. His brow was creased, which told her that he had been thinking seriously about something.
“We need supplies … badly,” he said and she groaned. She didn’t want to return to the town, although she didn’t feel much better here either for some reason.
Maybe I am still feeling homesick, she thought.
“Alright. We should go before it gets too dark,” she said and reluctantly sat up.
Jeremiah threw his rucksack over his shoulder and turned toward the desk. “Bunejab, you stay here and hold down the fort, okay?” The Chinuk nodded and returned intently to his notes.
Dragging herself from the warm softness of the bed, Chalice followed Jeremiah out of the inn. They decided not to take the horses as the town was close enough to reach by foot. They also wanted to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.
Although it probably won’t do much good. They’ll recognize us anyway, Chalice thought. How many people in these parts travel with a Chinuk? Realizing that having Bunejab accompany them to Chainbridge was going to prove difficult and considering the danger of their journey, she turned to Jeremiah.
“You know, if he decides to continue on with us, we’re going to have to hide him at every inn we go to.”
“Yeah, I thought about that, too. He seems to be set on traveling with us, though, and I don’t have the heart to tell him to go back home.”
“But shouldn’t he be with his family?”
“Well, yeah, probably.”
“You know, he will be safer back in his village, too,” she added. “He has been so helpful, I don’t want to take him where he’ll be in danger.”
Jeremiah nodded. “You’re right. We’ll talk to him about it later.”
“Alright,” she replied and they were silent for the rest of the journey.
A quarter of an hour passed before they found themselves re-entering the cluster of deteriorating shacks. As they drew near the center, they passed an old woman who was seated under a shop window to their left. She was clothed in dirty brown rags and was seated on a cloth, knitting a garment with yellow yarn. A dirty plate of chicken bones lay to her left and an empty cup sat on her right. The multitude of wrinkles on her face spoke of a life of many hard years and of a future that held no promise. Chalice could discern by her straight, unblinking stare and by the cataracts clouding her eyes that she was blind.
Chalice motioned silently for Jeremiah to stop. When he halted, she reached behind him and opened the rucksack hanging on his shoulder. Groping for the moneybag inside, she managed to dig out two silver sterlings that she softly placed into the woman’s cup.
“Thank you, sweet princess,” the woman said without moving her head, staring straight at the shop opposite her. Chalice paused as she straightened, peering down keenly at the woman. How does she know I’m a woman?
“Chalice,” Jeremiah whispered and pulled her over to the side, away from the crone. “We can’t be giving out our money right now. Our journey is uncertain and we don’t know how much longer it will sustain us.”
“I know, Jeremiah, but look at her. It’s heartbreaking.”
He frowned in thought. He knew she was right. “Alright, I understand your point. I’m just saying that we shouldn’t make a habit of it right now.”
She looked into his chocolate eyes and nodded. Just then, a tanned, dark-haired woman in a bright yellow dress and sandals appeared in the doorway of the shop to their right. She was collecting a basket of herbs from her display that sat outside the door. She seemed to move with the grace and air of a swan on a still pond. As she straightened, she looked at Chalice and smiled. She was very beautiful, with large, dark eyes and red lips. She contrasted loudly with the town around her. As she peered closer, Chalice noticed that the woman had a small scar just under her right eye.
“Hello,” the woman said warmly. “I am Jezebelle. Are you new to our village?” Her voice was low, cool, and smooth and she spoke with a strange accent.
Jeremiah turned, startled to hear a voice suddenly behind him. “Oh … uh, yes, we are. I suppose that’s pretty obvious, huh?”
“Yes,” she said as she smiled. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, you can, actually. We need to find …” Jeremiah continued to list the supplies they needed and asked the woman where they could be found in the village.
“You will need to hurry. The shops will be closing soon.” Pointing to the opposite side of the square beyond the fountain, she said: “In that direction, you can find fresh bread, fruits, and vegetables. Further down, there is a shop where you can buy cured ham and other meats. For ink and lamp oil you will need to go …”
Chalice peered closely and saw that the lady’s hands and fingers were stained with a yellow powder. Then, her mind wandered from the conversation as she stepped into the doorway of the woman’s shop and looked around. It was a spice shop.
She is a spice lady, she thought. She had never seen one before, only heard about them in the stories that Grandma Naelli used to read to her when she was little. A blend of aromas met her nose and she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. She was mesmerized.
All around the shop were fresh herbs of every kind and shape. They were everywhere, hanging from the ceiling, along th
e walls and in buckets that lined the middle of the dirt floor. On shelves behind the counter sat jars of many-colored spices ranging from cumin to paprika to coriander. A bottle of turmeric lay open on its side, spilling out onto the counter. Suddenly, she felt a nudge on her shoulder and she turned from the shop. It was Jeremiah.
“I’m going to go hunt these things down. You want to stay here?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll wait here,” she said, snapping out of her daydream. “Hey, this is a spice shop. Do we need spices or herbs?”
“No, I have enough. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay,” she said and turned to enter the shop. She began perusing one of the buckets that held fresh basil and parsley. Basil was her favorite herb. It had such a clean, crisp smell. Grandma Naelli used it in almost everything she cooked.
“Is there something in particular you like, my dear?” Jezebelle asked as she returned to the counter and straightened the bottle of spilled turmeric.
“Oh, no, I just like the smell. It reminds me of home.” Chalice walked over to the counter and looked down at the small, yellow pile. “Where do you get these spices?”
“They come from the dry climate of Maliya.” Jezebelle scooped up the pile in her hands and smelled it. “I was just examining this bottle to make sure it is pure. Sometimes the Marchiri buy tainted spices without knowing and trade them off to people who are none the wiser.”
“Oh.” Chalice nodded. She knew of the Marchiri. They were the traveling merchants that came to Canton twice a year to trade goods. Papa had traded wine with them for various items they needed, which included spices that Grandma Naelli had used in her cooking. She wondered if they had ever been given tainted spices.
“How can you tell if it’s pure or not?”
Jezebelle smiled at her warmly. “You learn by experience. You can gauge a spice’s pureness with your senses, but you have to be trained in the art of spice-making by someone who already knows. I learned the art from my mother. She was a spice lady, too. It is a secret art and for some of my people, a sacred art. Not all women can become proficient in the trade. You have to have the right touch, for it is your touch that relates to the spices and if your touch is just right, the spices will know and respond. And if you are lucky enough to have the touch of power, then power is what you will receive in return.”
Chalice cocked her head and arched an eyebrow. “Spices have power?” She was finding this a little hard to believe.
“Yes,” Jezebelle said softly. “You see, each spice is unique and has its own power and effect on the body. It comes from its own plant and has its own method of cultivation. There are several ways to tell if a spice is pure. For example, take turmeric.” She showed Chalice the powder in her hands. Chalice watched and listened carefully. She found Jezebelle’s voice to be very calm and soothing. “Locked within these fine granules is the power to heal the body, inside and out, but they must be handled properly. The bulbs of the plant must only be picked during the breath of dawn, before first light. They are dried and finely ground into the spice just so to extract the full potency of the plant. To test its purity, you hold turmeric in your hands and watch how quickly it dyes them yellow. Then, you smell and taste it. It must be bitter enough and slightly peppery. You spread it on an area of your skin that is lacking in either health or youth, and it will rejuvenate that skin, giving it a warm, healthy glow. If the turmeric passes these small tests, then it is pure.”
“It sounds complicated.”
“It is and that is why only certain women from my village can become skilled in the art.”
“Do you come from Maliya, then? Is that where you learned it?”
“Yes, that is where I grew up, in a small village near Lake Savarani. We grew the plants there.”
“Must have been nice!”
“It was. So, where do you come from?” Jezebelle asked and Chalice paused for moment to study her. She wasn’t sure if it was wise to give out this information. “You said that the smell of the herbs reminded you of home.”
Oh that’s right, I did say that, didn’t I? Chalice usually didn’t trust people, but for some reason she felt comfortable around this lady. “From Canton,” she replied. “My grandmother used to hang herbs from her wall, too.”
“How wonderful!” Jezebelle said in mild surprise and blew the turmeric from her hands, brushing them together several times to remove the fine grains still clinging to her palms. “Tell me, does she have the same beautiful blue eyes that you do?”
“Umm … no, she doesn’t.” Chalice thought this was a rather strange question.
Jezebelle seemed to sense her reservation. “I ask because I have a broach that will go perfectly with your eyes. I don’t ever wear it and it is virtually worthless around here. Poor farmers don’t really care for jewelry.”
“Oh,” Chalice said, realizing that she had been overly skeptical of the woman. “Where is it?”
“I will get it.” Jezebelle glided to the door that led to the back room. After a few minutes, she returned with a sparkling blue gem inlaid in a golden pin. She handed it to Chalice who examined it in her palm. It was gorgeous. The gem was a sapphire, marbled with thin waves down the center that appeared to be mother of pearl. It reminded her of the sea.
“You don’t want this? Are you sure?” Chalice asked. It seemed odd that the woman would want to part with such a fine piece.
“Oh yes, I never wear it and it will look much better on you.” She smiled. “Really, take it. I don’t want it.”
“Alright.” Chalice pinned it to her dress. “Thank you!”
“You are very welcome, my dear.”
Just then, the sound of footsteps caught their attention and Chalice turned to see a young woman in a dark green riding dress with raven black hair and bright emerald eyes standing in the doorway. Chalice’s jaw almost hit the floor. She knew exactly who this young woman was and a rush of shock mixed with relief and happiness flooded her emotions as she moved forward to greet her.
“Kirna!”
“Chalice!”
Each squealed loudly and rushed forward in a tight hug that revealed how much they had missed each other.
“I’m so glad you’re alright! What are you doing here?” Kirna asked ecstatically.
“I was just about to ask you the same question!”
“Well, Tycho and I left the night of the raid. Before the men got to our house, Mother and Father sent us off on horseback. We were studying together that night when they rushed us out. They thought we would be safer here with my cousin on his farm. We were on the road for a long time. How did you get here? We’ve been worried sick about you for the past six months!”
“Papa sent me to Branbury at the same time. I’m surprised I didn’t see you on the road.”
“Oh, well, we kind of got lost. We didn’t have a map. We had to ask directions every time we stopped for the night. But you made it to Branbury on your own?! That’s a dangerous journey, Chalice! How did you get here?”
“I know it’s dangerous, but Papa told me I had to go. I met Jeremiah in Branbury. You remember him, right?” she asked and Kirna nodded. “He and I have just spent the past two weeks traveling over the top of Mt. Vaassa.”
Kirna was stunned. “How …”
“It’s a long story. I can’t wait to tell you and I want to know everything that has happened and what you saw when you left. Where’s Tycho? Is he with you?”
“No, he stopped at Windon’s farm, a friend of my cousin. He had some goods to deliver in the wagon. Windon had a tough harvest this year so my cousin is helping him. Tycho rode with me for most of the way, though, and I’m supposed to meet him in about fifteen minutes back on the road. I came to town to get some bread for dinner. I came in here because I thought I heard your voice from outside. At first, I thought maybe I was just hearing things, but then you kept talking and so I came in to see.
I’m so glad I did!”
“Hey! Eat dinner with us. We’re staying at the Woodrock Creek Inn in room two-twelve. Meet us there in an hour, okay?”
“Okay. I can’t wait to tell Tycho you’re here! And with Jeremiah! We’ll see you then.” Kirna gave Chalice a fierce hug and then scurried out the door.
This was so great! Her two best friends were here and she was finally going to hear about what happened to her home. She turned back to Jezebelle who had been arranging spice jars on the shelves.
“Thank you again for the beautiful broach! Have a good evening!”
“You, too.” Jezebelle smiled. “Have a wonderful evening.”
Chalice ran out to search for Jeremiah, but she didn’t have to look far as he was striding back over the square holding a paper bag in one hand and his rucksack over his shoulder. It was bursting at the seams. She rushed forward elatedly to tell him what had just happened. He was both surprised and excited to hear the news.
“And so we have to get back quickly because they are meeting us for dinner at the inn,” she finished. She shivered and pulled her cloak tightly to her body. It was growing late and twilight was slowly starting to darken the sky.
“Okay. Did you have a good conversation with Jezebelle?”
“Yeah, I learned about where her spices come from and about how to tell if a spice is pure or not.” He looked down at her and smiled. “She also gave me this broach.” She pointed to the jewel on her dress.
“Wow, that was nice!” he said as he examined it. “Yeah, she was helpful, wasn’t she? It would have taken me forever to find those shops if she hadn’t pointed me in the right direction.”
“So, you got everything?”
“Yup, and then some.”
As soon as they returned, they went directly to their room to pack their supplies and wash for dinner. When they arrived, they found Bunejab still sitting at the desk, writing in his notebook next to a crackling fire, whose flames danced merrily in the fireplace. Chalice went into the washroom to brush her hair and rinse her mouth with soda water.
“Bunejab,” Jeremiah said. “I got you some food in town. Here.” He handed him the paper bag. “So you won’t go hungry tonight.” Bunejab smiled and chittered. “You’re welcome.” Jeremiah patted him on the shoulder. “Chalice and I are meeting some friends for dinner downstairs. When we get back, we will need to talk to you about something. We’ll see you in a bit.” The Chinuk nodded and they left the room.
Descending the staircase, Chalice saw the innkeeper near the door talking to a tall, thin man in a dark, hooded cloak. She thought it was strange that he kept his hood up. She could barely make out the grey beard and long nose of his face. Then, the man parted from the innkeeper and took a seat at one of the tables by himself in a dark corner of the room. From the corner of her eye, she could see, or rather feel that he was watching her, his face shrouded in the shadow of his cloak. At that moment, the innkeeper took note of them.
“Well, hello again,” he said. “I see you have found your young man.”
“Oh yes, thank you, we were just in town doing a little shopping.” Chalice smiled warmly. His expression of apprehension puzzled her. “What is it?”
“Hmm, if you need anything, just ask me or my wife. We can have someone here go get it for you. There is no need to enter the village.”
“You mean, you supply your guests with provisions they need?” She thought this was a little strange.
“Oh, yes. Our guests don’t usually visit the village.” He gave a light cough. “They don’t like to.”
“Why? Is it dangerous?”
“Sometimes. There are some strange folk in these parts. You know, pickpockets and brigands and the like. They live in the mountain and have been known to come this way.” How come we didn’t run into any on the road then? Chalice wondered. The expression of surprise must have shown on her face because he added: “Not to worry, my lady. We have protection here at the inn. Our strongmen keep an eye out for us.”
“Oh. Right. Well, we didn’t run into any when we were in town.” And actually had a pleasant visit there, she thought. She had a feeling that the purpose of the innkeeper’s offer was purely financial. “Also, we were easily able to find exactly what we needed thanks to Jezebelle.”
“Jezebelle?”
“The spice lady,” she told him, surprised that he didn’t register the name. It seemed to Chalice that Jezebelle was a woman not easily forgotten.
He scratched his chin. “Hmm, she must be new.” Pausing for a moment, he looked at the door. “That’s odd,” he said.
“What’s odd?”
“Well, no one really moves to Woodrock, just through it. For years it has been more of a crossroad than anything.”
“Oh … well … maybe she’s not new. She seemed to know the town really well.”
“Hmm … maybe …” Just then, they both turned as the inn door opened slightly. A brown head popped in from the outside and surveyed the room. Once its dark eyes fell upon Chalice, Tycho jumped to hug her. He still looked the same as he had when he was young, with his dark skin and chubby cheeks, although he had mostly grown out of his “baby” fat, as he called it.
“Jeremiah, hey man! How the heck have of you been?” Tycho said as he reached out to shake Jeremiah’s hand.
“I’m doing well. Long time no see, Tyke! How are you?” Jeremiah laughed. Kirna also walked up and hugged both of them.
“Friends of yours, my lady?” the innkeeper asked.
“Oh yes. Master Duncan, this is Kirna and this is Tycho,” Chalice said and he shook their hands. “They will be having dinner with us tonight. Is that alright?”
“Of course! Of course! Right this way.” He showed them to a table in the middle of the room and they sat down. “Tonight’s choice is chicken cacciatore in a tomato and herb mushroom sauce on a bed of noodles or beef burgundy served with fresh vegetables and sourdough bread.”
“Wow! That sounds great!” Tycho said and to the innkeeper’s surprise added: “I’ll take both.”
“Still has the same appetite, huh?” Jeremiah asked the girls.
“Oh, yes!” they said in unison.
After they had ordered, they broke into excited conversation. Chalice and Jeremiah sat back as they listened to Kirna and Tycho who were eagerly relating their story. Chalice flitted a glance at the hooded man again in the corner of the room. He had lowered the cowl of his cloak, but his facial features were still hidden by the shadowed corner. He had been brought a supper with a goblet of wine and was now dining by himself. That man is odd, she thought. He appeared to be watching her, but only at intervals. It seemed he was surveying the room. Maybe it’s just my imagination. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, she told herself. The mention of the Pandretti Inn and Winery pulled her from her thoughts.
“Yeah, the last thing we saw from the trees was the men gathering all of the villagers. Many of them were trying to resist, but it didn’t do any good,” Kirna said.
“What do you mean?” Chalice broke in. “Didn’t they put up a good fight?”
“They tried, but from what my father told us, and from what we saw sneaking out of the village, our people didn’t stand a chance. It was awful, especially for those who had families. I’ve never seen fighters like those, Chalice. It was disturbing.”
“Did you see my grandparents?” Chalice asked eagerly.
“No, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t make it out alive. We left right when the fighting started, so we didn’t see much actually.”
“But we did see many of our classmates,” Tycho interjected, “like us, fleeing the village on their parents’ orders with their younger siblings. I think most of the young people escaped unharmed.”
“Yeah, it was very organized,” Kirna said, “as if they had it planned a long time in advance, which is strange. You remember the days leading up to it, don’
t you, Chalice? It was almost like they were expecting an attack like that.”
“Yeah, I do. It is weird!” Chalice knew what Kirna was talking about. She did remember. All of the older adults, including her grandparents, had been acting very strangely right before the attack. A noise caught her attention and she looked up at the serving maids who had arrived with their plates and a tray of four glasses of milk. “But why would they be expecting it? And why would the King target Canton and then Branbury?” Jeremiah looked at her and she knew what he was thinking. She was grateful that he chose to keep silent.
“Branbury? What happened to Branbury?” Kirna asked.
As they ate, Chalice continued to recount her experiences after leaving Canton, arriving at the village, and meeting up with Jeremiah. Kirna and Tycho listened intently to her as they ate. She decided to conveniently leave out the part about the book they found. She didn’t want to think about that just yet.
Chalice paused to eat her food and they were all silent for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a large group of rough-looking men enter the room from the tavern and sit down at the table next to theirs. The serving maids approached them and they ordered. She also noted that the strange man in the corner was still there, drinking his wine and monitoring the room from where he sat in the shaded corner.
Two scruffy farmers from Couzon, who were passing through Woodrock, sat dining at the table on the other side of them. One was young and the other was older with grey hair and missing teeth. Honing in on the two men, Chalice caught bits of their conversation.
“Yeah, I tell ya, he dun shed he shaw da White Beauty runnin’ tru da trees lasht week. A ghosht in da night.”
“Ah, he’s ravin’. There aint no White Beauty. She’s a myth.”
“He shwears itchda trute.”
Just then, Tycho looked up. He had finished both his plates first and was patting his stomach. “Aah, that was great. Best meal …”
“You’ve ever had. Yes, we know,” they all said in unison and he smiled. Tycho always said the same thing after every meal.
“So, Chalice, what happened after that? Why did you two leave Branbury?” he asked and she was just about to answer him, but stopped suddenly, and in a split second, tensed when she saw one of the rough-looking men at the table next to theirs pull a knife from the back of his belt. She noticed that he had been glaring in their direction and could sense that the knife was meant for them.
Then, it all happened at once. Moving faster than her conscious thought could follow, she dropped her silverware and jumped onto her chair. Running over the table, sending chicken, beef and milk everywhere, she leapt up and flew through the air in a right foot side-kick, knocking the man firmly into the wall. Unconscious, he fell to the floor. She whirled on the spot, and with a knife hand to the throat, collapsed another one who had gotten up from the table and was towering over her. She knew all of the pressure points and all of the tender vulnerabilities of the human body.
Moving through the forms she had learned from her Shaunta, she watched her friends from the corner of her eye. Kirna was quick, jumping up and round-housing the nearest thug that had lunged for her. Tycho was slow, as always, but jumped into the fray as soon as it registered that they were being attacked. Jeremiah, who was never a fighter, but tall and muscular all the same, utilized a chair that he smashed over the head of the one nearest to him. All the other guests in the dining room ran for their lives while the inn’s strongmen shouldered in to help. The fight seemed to be going well, until …
A bright grey light exploded from a corner of the room and Chalice spun around to find the source. Before she could see anything, however, she felt a sharp pain on back of her head and her knees buckled. Next thing she knew, the floor was rushing up to meet her and then … darkness.