By the time they got to their first destination, the sun was rising. People were getting ready to tend to their crops and animals, fishermen were unloading their cargo, and the air smelled like fresh bread and coffee.
"Welcome to Lake Silverstone," said Jo, almost in a sigh. She put her grandmother's map away. "At least it's a nice looking town," she said mostly to herself, as she gazed at the pristine white and blue wooden houses and firedust lit lampposts. The streets were made of dirt so packed it looked like they were made of granite. The lake was the centre of it all, and it did, indeed, look like it was made of silver; there were merchants setting up their stores by the shoreline, in neat wooden cubicles- maybe in other circumstances, she'd run there to browse their wares, maybe buy a trinket or two- and then return it out of guilt, exchanging it for something useful.
The map said to look for a fellow named "Ulfric", who lived in a... white and blue wooden house by the lake. She cursed her grandmother's vagueness. They'd have to ask around for guys named Ulfric; hopefully, that name wasn't very popular or they'd have to spend all day hunting for him. She stumbled upon a dog napping on the street, she was too tired to watch where she was going. Gerard shooed the dog, which was ready to bite her ankles. She didn't blame the mutt, nobody liked to be woken up with a shoe on the ribs.
"It would be wise to find somewhere to rest our heads for a couple of hours," Gerad said, containing a little smirk- apparently her little incident had been funny to him. She was about to protest, but she was too tired to do that, he was right. They hadn't slept at all, and she was starting to feel cold and nauseated. At that point, even a sack of hay would've made a wonderful bed, she thought as she was led to the nearest inn. Ulfric could wait a little longer, right? Besides, he was probably still sleeping.
The Pork and Ladder was a far cry from what her inn had been. The name was a little rustic, and more than a little puzzling, but it was the cleanest inn she ever saw. Some people were having breakfast and chatting politely as the maid refilled their mugs with freshly brewed toasted hay coffee- most people in her village started their day with a mug of ale. The innkeeper was a wiry man, neatly dressed and incredibly jolly for someone who had to be up that early. She let Gerard take care of the talking, she knew she wouldn't have been able to say a word in her state of mind, and just sat down on a chair and decided to close her eyes for a bit, just a few seconds...
She woke up five hours later, wrapped in a cozy blanket and not knowing where she was. She sat on the bed, and then remembered everything as if it had been a bad dream. But it couldn't have been, her room wasn't as nice as the one she woke up in. She had no means to know what time it was, but she knew she must have been out cold for a long time: she felt rested, and famished. She looked around for a water basin to clean herself up and then realized the room had an actual bathroom and running water coming from actual plumbing. She jumped a little in excitement, then looked around embarrassed. Of course none saw her, she was alone in there. She thought she could spare some time to take a nice warm bath before going out to fetch Gerard and Alaric, she had earned it. There were even scented oils and soaps, she felt like a queen. She filled the bathtub with warm water, and got in spilling it everywhere- she'd filled the tub to the brim. After she deemed herself cleaned and wrinkled enough, she got out. Then, she realized she had forgotten to get a towel: of course something had to go wrong, she thought as the water started to get cold on her skin. She got out of the bathroom, then quickly started to open the drawers of the wardrobe looking for a towel to cover herself up. Again that feeling, she could swear someone was watching her. She shook the thought off, she was being silly. Maybe hunger was making her paranoid, a nice hot meal was what she needed. Her stomach grumbled.
As she was finishing getting dressed, someone knocked on the door.
"Gerard sent me to check on you, are you alive in there?" Alaric.
"I'm dead, actually," she said, as she put her wet hair in a bun. The mages needed to come up with some means to dry wet hair instantly: what use was magically heated water if your hair froze your head the second you got out? A cold drop went all the way down to her back, making her point.
"This is the first time I talk to a ghost, can you go through walls? Does it hurt?" she could hear a muffled laugh. She rolled her eyes and opened the door. "I thought ghosts were supposed to be translucent, such a disappointment," he said, grinning. She sighed.
"How long did you let me sleep?" she leaned on the doorframe.
"About five hours. Don't worry, Gerard was out looking for Ulfric as we slept. He can go on for days without sleep- special Knight training, you know?"
"Aren't you a knight too? You said you were. Why were you sleeping?"
"I haven't been anointed yet, I'm not technically a knight. But I will be, soon. I just have to take some oaths and do some rituals, but I'm practically a knight," he puffed his chest, but the wince on his face told her he was embarrassed.
"So, not a real knight then," she teased.
"Practically a knight. Technicalities," he cleared his throat and blushed a little. "So, are you hungry? I know I am. There's, uh, food downstairs. If you want. Or I could go by myself, never mind," she could never get over how awkward that man was.
"I'll go with you. You could choke on your soup and then, who will save you?" she took the key to her room and put it in the right pocket of her riding pants.
"Yes, very dangerous that soup," he quickly offered her an arm, but removed it after a split second. He started walking briskly in front of her, touching his hair nervously. Strange man, that almost knight, she thought as she followed him.
They were sitting down when Gerard came through the door of the inn, looking dead serious. He sat with them, then ordered lunch for the table. The day's special was lamb with mint sauce and some sort of fruit preserve with whipped cream. Jo's stomach grumbled out of control in anticipation.
"Did you find him?" She asked, ignoring her hunger pangs.
"I know where he lives," he said, then took out a piece of paper with a badly drawn map. "We'll eat, and then we'll go find this man," he ran a hand through his beard. "Something tells me this will be the last decent meal we'll have in days, so, make the best of it"
"What makes you think that?" Alaric asked quietly, a worried look on his eyes. Gerard paused for a while: he looked tired and had black circles under his eyes, he looked older than when she first met him.
"The baker gave me his address," he said, lowering his voice. She and Alaric leaned in closer to listen. "He said one of his boys delivers him a fresh loaf every morning, at eight sharp. He always answers the door, but he didn't do it this morning... or the morning before," he said. "He thinks maybe he's been oversleeping, but I have a bad feeling."
"But maybe he really has been oversleeping, right? Maybe he's been reading a really good book, and stays up late... reading?" said Alaric, but Jo could tell by the way he said it he probably didn't believe it. Neither did she. The food arrived, but suddenly she wasn't feeling as hungry.
"Maybe. But if something happened to him... we must be prepared. If the Niveans got to him first they probably know we're here too, they might have been looking for us. Then we'll have to evade them, and stay away from civilized areas," goodbye running water and oils, thought Jo. But staying alive was better than being clean and well fed.
"I really hope he just got lazy," Alaric sighed, stirring the contents of his plate with a fork. She wasn't the only one with a ruined appetite.
"Only one way to find out," Gerard started to wolf down his food, then beckoned them to do the same. "You'll need your strength, come on kids: eat up"
Ulfric's house was just like every other house in the village, color-wise at least. The front garden looked like a jungle of herbs and mushrooms, all properly labeled- some of them advised "poisonous, do not ingest".
Gerard knocked on the door vigorously. There was no response. He knocked a couple of times more, calling his name- nothing. He told them to step back, then got ready to kick it down: Jo stopped him.
"We don't want to get everyone's attention," she said. "Move, you two," she rummaged inside the small satchel she was carrying and took a picking tool. She had the door opened without making a fuss in a couple of seconds. "After you," she told them with a mocking reverence.
"I don't want to ask how you know that trick," said Alaric, as he walked through the threshold. Gerard laughed a little, but then got completely serious. He shushed them. "I thought I heard something," he said. "Let's go. And stay on your guard"
The house was a mess, but something told her it was always like that: papers and books flooded every inch of it, even in the kitchen where they shared space with bundles of dried herbs, pots and empty vessels. The only neat place there was a shelf covered in labeled flasks, filled with potions.
"Over here," whispered Alaric. He was pointing at a rustic-looking staff. "Mages never leave without their staffs, they don't sleep away from them either," Gerard nodded. Suddenly, they heard a noise upstairs- Gerard pressed a finger to his lips and prompted them to follow him. Jo took the dagger off her belt, Alaric unsheathed his sword.
A tall man with messy long black hair stood by one of the doors in the corridor. He was wearing a large burgundy robe with golden embroideries and had an elaborate staff strapped to his back. Surprising mages from behind: not a good idea, she thought. Her grandmother told her that on occasion, always remembering that one time she startled a mage without meaning to and got her eyebrows zinged.
"Turn around, slowly," she told the man. "We're armed, but we just want to talk," she was ready to slit his throat, though, if it came to that. Alaric and Gerard readied their swords.
"I was expecting you," he said, still not turning around. "You took your sweet time having lunch, was it any good?Personally, I don't like lamb- too... greasy."
"How do you...? Turn around so we can see you," she ordered him.
The mage put his arms up in the air and turned around, slowly. Part of his face was covered by messy locks of hair. He shook his head to put them in place. Alaric took a step forward, ready to spring.
"It's a little dark, is it not? May I?" he said, and with a flick of his fingers, the dark hallway was lit by the fire of candles. "Much better," he was looking directly at Jo, giving her a sly smile. He was young, maybe Alaric's age, or hers, it was hard to tell. His face was clean shaved, and his skin was of a warm dark brown; his eyes were of a deep dark russet, surrounded by heavy black eyeliner. He was handsome, but she wouldn't let it distract her.
"Identify yourself, and state your business here," demanded Gerard. The mage looked briefly at him, and then returned his gaze to Jo.
"I'd rather talk to the lady," he said, politely.
"Fine, answer his question, then," his relaxed demeanor irked her. "If you don't cooperate, we'll just kill you- don't waste our time, we're a little busy."
"You're tough, I like that," he said "May I lower my hands? I'm getting tired," Jo nodded.
"Now. Answers," she said, she was growing impatient.
"I'm Laurentius, nice to meet you," he said, smiling. His teeth were white and almost too perfect, it had to be some sort of magic. Alaric let out a little snort. "I'm here because I was expecting you, like I said." He was so close to losing a limb, she thought.
"Why were you expecting us? And give me a straight answer, or I'll just snap. You don't want me to snap," she said, gripping her dagger tighter. Alaric moved nearer.
"Fair enough. But first, I think we should get out of here," he said, nonchalantly.
"I don't know if you noticed, but we don't trust you," she said. "Also, where's Ulfric? Did you do something to him?"
"Ulfric is dead," he informed. "He was like that when I got here- I stand corrected: when I got here a couple of minutes ago. He was fine when I got here the first time, a night ago, but then he got murdered by the same people who want you murdered. I saw it happen, it wasn't pretty," he took the staff off his back. "Now, we should really go somewhere else. I don't want to get killed, I'm too young and attractive to die," Jo rolled her eyes, Alaric snorted again.
"I need to see the body, stay here," Gerard told Alaric. "Keep an eye on the mage," he pointed at Laurentius; Alaric nodded, he didn't have to tell him twice. Jo followed Gerard to the room the mage was guarding. There was an old man sitting on a chair, his eyes wide open and his mouth stuck in a surprised expression.
"Creators," she whispered. She looked as Gerard examined the body for weapon wounds, but there weren't any. He did have something familiar on his arm, though: vine tattoos, just like her grandmother's. Only his tattoos were no longer green: they were pitch black, and the skin around them was blistered and raw... it looked like they'd caught fire. "I think I have an idea why he's dead," she said. She tried to close his eyes, like people did in books, but turns out the eyelids were too stiff to do so. She placed a handkerchief on his face instead. Gerard traced the Onturian symbol on the man's forehead: a circle and an inverted triangle.
"Go to the creators, by the grace of Ontur," he whispered, then kissed his thumb and placed it on the dead mage's forehead.
"Too late now, they're here," said Laurentius as they got out of the room. "I told you we had to go, now we'll have to fight them," he sighed dramatically.
Someone was entering the house, making a rattle while at it. Four against one? They had a good chance, she thought. She was pretty decent with her dagger, Alaric and Gerard had their swords and the mage... well, she didn't know. Also, she didn't know if he could be trusted, but for the moment they'd have to. They'd deal with him afterward. They were ready to set an ambush at the top of the stairs when they heard more people coming in: at least five of them. That didn't look good. She shot a panicked look at Gerard. He calmly guided them to the room where Ulfric sat just as dead as before. He locked the door, then blocked it with a chair.
"Out the window: now," he ordered. "We can't afford to take chances," Jo wasn't afraid of heights, and the window wasn't particularly high, but she wasn't eager to jump down.
Gerard opened the window and waited for her to get out. She took a deep breath and jumped, landing on a bed of rash ivy. She didn't have much time to assess the damage, or even register the painful itch on her hands. Alaric landed right next to her, almost too close. Then out came Gerard and they ran to the Inn as fast as they could. Nobody looked back to check if Laurentius made it, or if the men in Ulfric's house were pursuing them.
Gerard halted them in a corner, close to the Inn. Niveans were standing by the door, very likely waiting for them to show up.
"We have to leave," said Gerard. Jo thought of her things back there, the rations and trinkets her grandmother packed for the journey. At least she had some things in her satchel, but not many- not nearly enough. But she had the map and was still alive: they could make it, they would.