Disclaimers: see chapter 1

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Lorimal's Chalice

Part One - The Exile

By Jane Fletcher

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Chapter 8: Difficult Company

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Early the next morning Tevi arrived at the address she had been given, a substantial town house in one of the richer areas of Lyremouth. There was a scattering of tradesmen about, but the street was quieter than most. Tevi suspected it would remain so throughout the day. Nothing would be permitted to disturb the genteel tranquillity. While waiting for the door to open Tevi shuffled from foot to foot, while examining the half-timbered frontage of the house in a futile attempt to distract herself from feeling exposed and vulnerable.

She had risen early and grabbed some food from the kitchens, not bothering to hang about and take her breakfast with the others. The previous evening had been a strain. She and Cayell had largely ignored each other, but once or twice Tevi had caught the other woman glaring in her direction, confusion and anger plain on her face. Perrin and the other nominees had clearly been surprised by the breaking up of their friendship, but had wisely refrained from interfering. Tevi wondered what they had been told.

An elderly servant eventually opened the door, and studied her with cursory disdain.

"You are the mercenary guard?" the servant asked

"Yes - I've got the contract with me." Tevi held out the paper.

"Master Sarryle is expecting you. Follow me."

She was led into a small parlour. Her new employer was sitting by the fire, blankets draped over his knees. He was a thin man of advancing years. To a first glance he looked far older than he actually was - an effect he seemed to be deliberately cultivating by his outmoded dress and frail mannerisms. His head was bald on top, with a frill of white hair hanging over his ears. Sunken eyes blinked irritably in Tevi's direction, as if she was an unpleasant distraction. A partly eaten breakfast lay on the table to one side. His lips pulled into in a sour pout.

"You're very young. I was expecting somebody more experienced." Sarryle sounded indignant.

The caustic tone was disconcerting, however Tevi stepped forward to present the contract, saying, "I have considerable experience of driving a wagon, sir. And I am a trained warrior."

"You're early. The horses aren't harnessed yet. Eli will have to do it after finding my willow-bark ointment. I always wake with this terrible pain in my joints. I don't know how I'm going to cope with the journey to Treviston, half the town councils don't maintain the roads as they should..."

Before Sarryle could say more Tevi interrupted. "I could harness the horses, sir."

"If you think you're able." Sarryle's tone made his doubt evident. "Though I'm not sure how far we'll get today. The weather witch said it will be fine, but you can't trust them. My knees ache, that's always a sign of rain. We'll be up to our necks in mud by mid-morning. I don't know why my daughter had to move so far away - typical of her."

"The horses, sir?" Tevi inserted into a break in the tirade.

"Oh yes, yes. Eli, show her to the stables. And these eggs are overdone. You'll have to do some more. You must..."

Tevi and Eli escaped from the stream of whining complaint. As they walked to the stables Tevi tried to catch Eli's eye, in the hope of gauging how seriously she should take Master Sarryle's behaviour.

"Will you be coming with us to Treviston?" Tevi asked.

"I am to stay and look after the house."

"There'll be other servants?" After the welcome she had received Tevi was not too sure about being alone with the old man.

"The cook and the valet have recently left Master Sarryle's employ and have not yet been replaced."

Tevi assumed that meant 'no'. Eli's voice had been so deliberately neutral that it was obvious there was a lot more which could be said on the subject. Unsurprising - Tevi had already worked out that her new employer was not easy to deal with first thing in the morning.

* * * * * *

It soon emerged, however, that Tevi was mistaken in her judgement - Master Sarryle was never easy to deal with, regardless of the time of day. His only pleasure in life was finding things that displeased him. Before the journey was halfway complete Tevi had formed the opinion that the protection of a guild mercenary was not an extravagance on her employer's part. Without her presence, Tevi was convinced someone would have strangled the old man. She was not sure if she could withstand the temptation herself.

The journey proceeded slowly, limping from town to town. Before leaving Lyremouth Tevi had established that the distance to Treviston could be travelled in fifteen days, twenty at the most. Yet, thirty days did not see them to their destination. Master Sarryle would not start early, nor would he travel after night fell. He complained about potholes if she raised the speed above the slowest pace the horses could practically maintain. In Lower Deaford he developed a chill and would not move at all for three days. Tevi was approaching the end of her patience.

On the thirty-second day of the journey, they reached a small hamlet, less than nine miles from Treviston. The weather had been mild for the time of year. There was a sharp frost most nights, but the skies had remained clear. However, that night, winter struck. They awoke to see the world cloaked in white. Huge flakes danced in the light wind and drifted into deep banks Tevi was astonished. Snow was rare on the islands of her birth, never more than a light dusting on the highest mountains.

The snow continued to fall steadily all morning. Just before lunchtime it slackened noticeably and finally ceased. Tevi stood in the doorway, next to Master Sarryle. The old man scowled and turned to Tevi with a reproachful glare.

"If you'd made better time we'd be safely in Treviston by now. I thought you were supposed to be competent at driving a wagon." he snapped, before stalking off.

"I'll throttle him." Tevi mouthed silently to herself.

The place at her side was taken by the owner of the farm who had given them shelter for the night. Tevi continued to look out across the hills. Ominous grey clouds hung low in the sky. Only the stark blackness of trees broke through the soft contours of white. The wind blew across the threshold with an icy bite. The farmer studied the dull sky keenly before offering her appraisal of the weather.

"It will hold off for a while, but when it gets going again we'll be snowed in. It's always the same when winter comes late. It hits quick and hard and won't let up 'til spring."

"Do you think it will hold long enough to get to Treviston?" Tevi asked.

The farmer pursed her lips. "Chancy."

At that moment, Sarryle's voice was heard berating the farmer's youngest son. "You boy, don't screech so. It hurts my ears."

"Lee just put an icicle down my neck." a young voice wailed.

"I don't know what your parents are thinking of, letting you run wild."

"I was only playing." protested a second child, presumably Lee.

"You think this weather's a game. If you had my knees..."

Tevi met the farmer's eyes. She could tell that the same thought was going through the other woman's mind. Freezing to death would be fun, compared to months, cooped up with Master Sarryle.

"I'll risk it." Tevi said. From the sudden dazzling smile, Tevi thought the farmer was about to kiss her.

While Tevi and Sarryle dressed in their warmest clothes, the entire work force of the farm was called on to harness the horses and make ready the wagon. Even one ancient great-grandparent hobbled out to offer advice.

Sarryle was not grateful for the help. He stopped in the yard and looked at the snow settling over the tops of his boots. "I'm not sure if we should travel today."

"Nonsense sir. It will be quite all right." Tevi said briskly.

Sarryle was clearly about to refuse to leave - his mouth started to open. Tevi did not give him the chance. She physically swept her elderly employer off his feet and hoisted him into the wagon, then fastened the awning and leapt onto the driver's seat. The wagon rolled out into the snowy landscape accompanied by a high-pitched barrage of accusations emanating from the covered section. When Tevi looked back, she could see the farmer's whole family standing by the gates, waving an enthusiastic goodbye

The heavy blanket of snow and deep drifts made it hard to tell the line of the road. Once they had left the dry stone walls of the farmland behind, only the gap between stunted upland trees showed the correct direction. Twice the wheels of the wagon ran off the road into the draining ditch and were only pulled free with much coaxing of the carthorses. By the time they had travelled three miles Tevi was obliged to get out and lead the horses, while feeling for the road with her feet. Her toes were soon frozen, but there was the advantage that she could no longer hear what Master Sarryle was saying.

As the afternoon advanced, the snow began to fall again. White flakes swirled ghost-like in the gloomy half-light. The horses fought their way over the last hill, with their hooves sliding on the ice. Down in the valley below faint lights were visible - Treviston at last. Snow lay less thick on the this side of the hill, and once again, the path of the road was visible. Tevi climbed back onto the wagon with relief. She set the horses off at a good pace, ignoring the complaints from behind.

Two miles outside town, they reached a side road. Lights from a large farmhouse shone out at the end of the short track. Tevi knew this was the approximate location of the daughter's farm. She raised the awning of the covered section. Master Sarryle was wedged sullenly in a corner, almost lost under a mound of furs and blankets.

"Do you know exactly where your daughter's farm is, sir?" Tevi asked.

"Do you mean to tell me you're lost?"

"No. There's a farm over there. I wondered if it was your daughter's."

"Don't you recognise it?"

"I've never been to Treviston before."

"Didn't you pay attention to your instructions?"

"I was told your daughter lives two miles south of town." Tevi's patience was almost gone.

"Well you obviously haven't been..."

Tevi dropped the flap and steered the horses onto the path. She did not care whose house it was - they could take the old man; she was not going a step further with him.

Fortunately, it was the right farm and Sarryle was welcomed inside. The display of pleasure in the greeting impressed Tevi - she could not believe it was genuine. The wagon was taken to the stables to be unloaded by the farm hands. With a warm feeling of satisfaction Tevi realised her contract was completed. She stood, slightly dazed, while the hubbub resolved itself into order and Sarryle was led to the room prepared for him.

The daughter beckoned Tevi aside. "Do you wish to stay here tonight?" she asked.

"It's taken longer to get here than planned. I think I should report straight to the guild-master in town."

It was a weak excuse. One night's delay in reporting to the guildhall would make no difference, even if her arrival were expected. In truth, Tevi would rather have slept in the snow on the hilltop than spend another night under the same roof as Sarryle. The daughter smiled sympathetically, probably suspecting Tevi's real reasons for declining the offer. Using a wax candle, she put her father's seal on the contract and passed it back to Tevi, with the money. As an afterthought, she handed Tevi a few more coins. "I'm sure you've deserved it."

In a mood of light-headed euphoria Tevi shouted goodbye to everyone within earshot and headed swiftly back to the main road. Night was descending rapidly. The freezing wind had picked up and the snow was falling hard, but it hardly affected her. Tevi felt so happy to be free of her charge that she practically skipped all the way into town.

* * * * * *

"So she came over to me and she looked me straight in the eye and she said 'Lad.' she said. 'I need a volunteer. But it's a tough one and I can't guarantee you'll come back'. I didn't hesitate. I looked at her and I said 'I'm your man'. Then she took me by the hand and she said 'Good lad, I knew I could rely on you'. That's what she said. 'So what's the score?' I said. 'Well' she said, 'We need someone to get behind enemy lines and set fire to their stores, as a distraction for when we attack.' So I said 'Consider it done.' And when she'd gone I went straight to the captain and I told him what she'd said, and do you know what he said to me?" The narrator paused dramatically.

Tevi was not sure how much more she could stand. It would not be so bad if the old warrior did not expect audience participation. "No. What did he say?" She asked, trying to sound interested.

Ricard leaned back and rested his hands on his knees importantly. "He clapped his hand on my shoulder and he said 'Ric.' he said, 'The honour of the guild rests on your shoulders.' That's what he said."

It was a month since Tevi had arrived at the Treviston guildhall, and the third time Ricard had told the tale of his part in the Troll Wars, four decades before. The story was not improving with re-telling. Tevi let her eyes wander around the dining room and through the open door into the kitchen beyond. No escape was in sight. The guildhall was a modest sized building, principally occupied during the summer months, when the town was the main stopping point for people crossing over the Langhope Pass. The harsh winter had blocked not only the pass, but also virtually all other access to the town. Only six mercenaries, other than herself, were currently lodging in the guildhall. They were mainly elderly members, retired from armed employment, who supervised the guild affairs in town. Ricard was running out of people he could recount his life story to.

The tale was rambling on. "So I looked up and I could see the 'rabbits' everywhere. We called them rabbits because they were always popping out of holes. I remember old Chalky, the cook. Do you know what he said? He said 'If ever I catch one of them we'll have rabbit stew all month'." Ricard's face broke into a broad smile, which grew to chuckles, his shoulders and stomach shaking. Tevi assumed the joke had lost something with the passage of time.

The tedium was plumbing new, mind-numbing depths when a door opened and Nevin, the Treviston guild-master, limped in. A mace had shattered her knee several years before, making a cruel mockery of Nevin's otherwise athletic body. She was somewhat younger than the other residents of the guild-house and marginally more entertaining to be with. Tevi suspected that, once, Nevin would have made good company. Now, the constant pain from her leg made her short-tempered and cynical. Sandy hair hung in a fringe over shadowed eyes. Her lips were permanently turned down at the corners.

Ricard halted his story as the new arrival settled into a high-backed chair beside the fireplace. "I was telling young Tevi here about the old wars, up north."

"You can give it a rest. I've heard it all before." Nevin said bluntly.

Tevi leapt at the excuse to flee. "I'm sure Ricard can finish the story some other time." Then she smiled at the old man - he meant well.

"We could go to the kitchen." Ricard offered.

"Well, actually, I'd planned to go into town tonight." It was not strictly true and Tevi could feel a slow blush rising on her cheeks.

Fortunately, Nevin spoke up. "Ric, why don't you get the chess-board out and give me a game? That should keep you quiet."

"Oh yes... yes, of course." Ricard's expression was a little confused as he adjusted to the change in plans. He shuffled across the room and collected the board and pieces.

Seizing her chance, Tevi slipped from her seat and headed for the door. As she reached it, she paused and glanced back. Ricard, the firelight playing on his bald head, was busily fussing over the playing pieces, swapping them back and forth as he tried to remember their positions. Nevin was slumped, with her head sagging as she rubbed her maimed leg with the heel of one hand. It was the same gesture Tevi remembered her mother making - the easing of tendons in a wounded knee. Yet, the setting was so very different from the family hall on Storenseg.

Instead of dry stone, the walls were wood-panelled and hung with tapestries. Four stout trestle tables stood in the middle of the room. A blazing log fire roared in the open grate of the chimney. Rather than a bare earth floor, there were flagstones, scrubbed clean. Suddenly it all seemed very alien to Tevi. Swamped by a rush of homesickness she closed the door and retreated to her room on the second floor of the guildhall.

* * * * * *

There were no fires in the private quarters and the air was freezing. Tevi's breath formed white puffs of steam. The room was austere and dreary, clearly intended to be functional rather than homelike. It was generous in size, but lacking entertainment. The bed was ready, piled high with blankets and furs, though it was too early for sleep. Tevi's few possessions were neatly arranged on shelves, however nothing needed cleaning, mending or sharpening - the previous month had taken care of that. Tevi sat on the edge of her bed and stared despondently at the four bare walls. They seemed to close in around her, pressing with the weight of the deserted guild-house.

A door below slammed. The sound reverberated through the empty corridors. Listening to the fading echoes, Tevi became aware of voices, coming softly through the thick green glass of the window. It was an indistinct murmur, punctuated by the occasional high shout. Drawn by the sound, Tevi got to her feet and wandered over to stare out on the town. A panorama of snow covered roofs filled the skyline. On the narrow street below well-wrapped figures made what haste they could, stepping carefully with their eyes set on the slippery pavements. The scene reminded Tevi of her fabricated excuse to escape Ricard. On impulse, she decided to make good her words.

She grabbed her thick woollen cloak from the rack in the entrance hall and changed into the warm, waterproof boots she had bought with money from Sarryle's contract. One quarter had gone to Nevin as the guild's share, but there was plenty left. Coins filled the purse at Tevi's belt. Fleece-lined gloves and woollen hat completed her attire. Tevi walked down the steps of the guildhall and onto the street outside.

Dusk was settling over the town as she emerged. It was a crisp, clear evening; the first stars already showing overhead. The street was filled with trampled snow; brilliant white close to the walls, turning to grey and brown slush in the ruts where traffic passed. The snow lay on every horizontal surface, clinging in sharp lines to the details in the brickwork and capping the tops of walls. The street was busy with people going home to their families after a day's work. A horse-drawn cart went down the street. The driver was clearly well known and was hailed by several pedestrians.

With no clear destination in mind, Tevi wandered from street to street until she reached Treviston's market square. The stalls and peddlers were now gone. Tevi stopped in the centre of the empty square and inspected each side in turn. The solid timber frame of the council hall held her attention for a while. Tevi finally halted and faced east. Mountains loomed above the snow-covered tiles; vertical rock faces, black etched on white, stark against the darkening blue sky. The last rays from the sinking sun glinted off the icy peaks, and washed them with pink. Slowly the light faded. With each passing minute more stars appeared.

Tevi stood watching until the white of the snow on the mountains was almost lost in darkness. She lowered her gaze and continued her restless wandering. By now, most of the townsfolk were home and the streets less active. Doors and window shutters were closed. Lamplight gleamed through joins in the wood.

Tevi passed a group of children indulging in one last snowball fight, ignoring the calls to come in for as long as they dared, until a more emphatic shout ended the game. A small knot of townsfolk caught her attention as they walked along the road, jostling each other and laughing boisterously. Tevi's eyes followed them enviously until they were out of sight. She felt desperately lonely. Pools of light, cast by lamps on street corners, glittered off the white ground and sparkled on the plumes of powdery snow her boots kicked up as she walked. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly, like the dancing flakes.

She was caught completely unaware when a figure cannoned into her, careering wildly out of a steep side street. The collision knocked Tevi sideways. She slithered on the icy paving. Her arms flailed wildly but caught only on the new arrival, who was even less steady than herself. The two of them ended up in a heap on the ground.

Once her initial shock had passed, Tevi was able to squirm from under her involuntary assailant and get to her feet. "I'm very sorry." Tevi apologised on reflex, offering a hand to assist the other person to rise.

"Oh no, it was my fault. I was going too fast and these shoes are useless. Can't get a decent grip on the snow - soles are like glass."

"You haven't hurt yourself, have you?" Sir? Ma'am? Tevi could not tell. The accent belonged to one of the local townsfolk, but the speaker was so muffled that it was impossible to guess the gender. The person was shorter than Tevi by several inches, yet the voice seemed on the low side for a woman. Not for the first time Tevi wished men on the mainland would let their beards grow. One of these days, she was going to make a mistake and insult someone. It was just as well that gender was of so little consequence in the Protectorate.

"I'm fine, apart from my dignity. Are you alright?" the stranger asked.

"Yes. Fortunately the snow's soft to land on."

"Though I guess I wasn't quite so soft, landing on top of you."

Tevi grinned. "It was a bit like being hit by a sack of potatoes... meaning no offence."

The other person let out a peal of laughter. "None taken. If someone tells me I look like a sack of potatoes - then I'm offended."

"I'm sure that isn't likely to happen."

"I don't know. I'm a greengrocer from Eastside. They say traders end up looking like their wares."

Tevi joined the laughter. The pair exchanging light-hearted pleasantries for a few minutes, while brushing the powdery snow still clinging to their clothing. It was not long before all traces of the accident had been erased.

"I must be off. Good evening to you, and once again my apologies." The greengrocer said in farewell, and started to head off with cautious steps, one hand braced against the wall.

"Excuse me! Before you go. I'm a stranger in town. I wonder if you could recommend a good tavern." Tevi spoke, half hoping her new acquaintance would offer to come with her for a drink.

The face inside the fur-lined hood turned back, smiling broadly. "The ale in the 'Bees and Bonnet' on Mickle street is very good. My new lover's one of the bar-staff. He won't be there tonight, but it's always friendly."

With arms held out for balance the unsteady figure tottered down the street, and disappeared into another side turning. Tevi stared at the empty street. Any hope of company was gone. In disappointment Tevi continued her aimless roaming, with no purpose in mind other than creating the rhythm of walking.

She would have been willing to buy as much ale as the greengrocer could drink, just to have someone to talk to. Even Ricard's unending stories would be better than nothing. Tevi was about to head back to the guildhall when she noticed a painted sign hanging above the door of a tavern. Several garish yellow and black bees swarmed around a frilly pink object that was just conceivably an item of headgear. This must be the 'Bees and Bonnet'.

The greengrocer had said it was friendly. While Tevi stood thinking, three townsfolk approached from the other direction, pushed the door open and went inside. There was a brief glimpse of lamplight falling on busy tables and clean scrubbed floor, the sound of people talking, chairs scraping, glasses clinking, even the faint smell of beer and wood smoke. Without Tevi making a conscious decision, her feet started moving, following the three townsfolk into the tavern.

Sweat prickled at her neck and sides as the heat of the alehouse swept over her, accompanied by a matching wave of sound. The sensation was like wading through treacle. Tevi was in a medium sized room, rectangular, with tables lining the longer walls and a dozen more arranged in the middle. Benches were filled with animated customers, though a scattering of empty seats remained. The walls were orange brick, except for one that was completely taken up by a huge stone fireplace. The flickering light played over the low rafters of the ceiling, and added to the cheerful glow from a dozen lanterns. There was much activity on both sides of the L-shaped counter, that was squeezed into the corner facing the door, with a row of barrels stacked behind.

Tevi tugged off her gloves and hat and pushed them into the large pocket sewn on the inside of her cloak, which she also removed. The bar was busy, but she was able to find a spot where she could rest her elbows on the wooden surface of the counter and wait her turn to be served. It did not take long. A barman rushed to attend to her, ignoring several other customers. From the quick, slightly nervous glance at her hands Tevi realised it was the tattoos that gained her prompt service. Tevi recognised the three townsfolk she had followed in. She gestured to the waiting group. "They were here before me."

"Oh no. You first." One of them spoke quickly and then looked away.

Most ordinary citizens treated mercenaries caution. Remembering Big Bron, Tevi could understand why. She was tempted to explain that she was happy to wait her turn, but it would only waste time and fail to reassure anyone.

"I'll have a pint of bitter, please."

"Yes, ma'am"

Tevi waited for her drink in silence. The other people at the bar did not act overly nervous, yet Tevi got the strong impression they wished she was not there - certainly none seemed ready to engage in friendly conversation with her. She faired no better once she had got her drink and taken a seat at the side of the room, close to the fire. As soon as the tattoos on her hands were noticed, people sitting either side of her shifted ever so slightly away.

The hopes of finding companionship taunted Tevi as she sat, surveying the other customers of the tavern. During her journey with Sarryle, she had become aware that the red and gold tattoos served to distance her from the general population. Young children would gape at her with something approaching hero-worship in their eyes, but their older relatives gave her a wide berth. Traders and others, used to employing her guild comrades, were less apprehensive, but mercenaries were generally left to their own company.

Folk sitting close by busied themselves in conversation, mainly about the weather from the little Tevi overheard. A few, further away, were staring in her direction, although they looked away sharply if she caught their eye. Tevi's lips tightened in annoyance. Am I being too sensitive? On the islands, we would always stare at strangers. The thought struck her - but on Storenseg, you could go from one year to the next without seeing a face you did not know. She remembered how comical it was to see an unfamiliar face, and study the eyes and nose, trying to work out what there was about it that made it so odd. And I've changed, to sit here surrounded by dozens of strange faces and find them no more worthy of note than the bricks in the walls. It was a sudden, unsettling realisation. Somewhere on her travels, the islander's mentality had slipped its hold on her. It was bad enough to be exiled in strange lands, but worse to think that even Storenseg might become alien to her.

The mellow ale washed the tightness from her throat. In the open hearth flames leapt over the burning logs - in them you could see demons and castles, swords and flowers, if you chose. It was a deep glowing well of fantasies that drew her thoughts in. A wry smile touched Tevi's lips as she remembered the family hearth of her childhood, and siting by it, playing games of make-believe. She had dreamed of growing up to be a warrior queen who would conquer all the known world - or at least the nearest couple of islands. Things never work out the way you expect.

But what next? Precise plans were hard to make, although a job was not likely to be a problem. In spring, the pass would re-open and traffic would start to flow through town again. There would be caravans and traders, some of them heading off to the wild-lands beyond the Protectorate and in need of guards. Tevi could be sure of finding work with one of them. The world was wide and diverse beyond the dreams of her childhood, beyond the imagination of the island women. Visions of the sights she had seen with Verron and Marith danced among the flames.

* * * * * *

Her tankard was empty. Tevi looked at it, a little surprised, and considered returning to the guildhall, but she was warm and comfy, and the other customers had long ceased paying her any attention. The noise of the tavern had become a steady background rumble in her ears, letting her think in peace, and the ale really was very good. Good enough to tempt her to a second tankard.

She had scarcely returned to her seat when the door to the tavern opened. The sudden drop in noise warned Tevi that the new arrival was not just another customer, seeking cheer on the frosty night. Like everyone else in the room, Tevi turned her head, to see a tall, middle-aged woman standing just inside the entrance. The hem of her heavy blue cloak fluttered in the last of the icy draft that had followed her into the tavern. The cut of the woman's clothes indicated wealth. Her expression was one of bored arrogance. There was nothing else of note about her, but the innkeeper rushed to greet the new arrival and escort her to a table by the fire, unceremoniously displacing its original occupants.

In was obvious that everyone in the tavern recognised the woman. Folk returned to their gossip, but the atmosphere was slightly strained, the laughter muted. Then Tevi caught a glimpse of a black amulet, engraved with oak leaves, on the woman's wrist. It explained all - the town sorcerer. By now, a bottle of vintage wine and assorted delicacies had arrived at the table, accompanied by much bowing. As the bar-staff retreated, the bottle floated into the air and poured itself into a glass. Oblivious to the disturbance she had caused, the sorcerer picked up the glass and sipped the wine, while her eyes stared vacantly into the air.

The floating bottle was the first piece of magic Tevi had seen in the Protectorate, however it did not appear to be the precursor to anything more dramatic. Soon Tevi's attention drifted back to the fire and her plans for the future. Taking a contract as a caravan guard would be a good move. It would bring money, and the chance to see more of the world. There would also be the comradeship of other mercenaries - new friends, and new risks. Tevi's forehead creased in a frown, hit by the memory of Cayell that had dogged her all the way from Lyremouth, and the questions it raised. Why did she come on to me like that? How did she know I would be open to the approach? On the islands, with hindsight, it was obvious. I stood out like a sheep in a pigpen. Too soft and masculine. Even the way I walked and talked must have had them guessing. But on the mainland the same codes of conduct did not apply - or did they? How did Cayell know about me? Until she could answer that question Tevi knew she dared not let anyone get close to her. She bit her lip and let her head drop forward, heartsick at the prospect of loneliness. But I want friends.

Tevi raised her head to take another mouthful of ale. Her eyes fell on the woman sitting alone by the fire. The sorcerer was someone who must have even greater problems in finding friends. Do they like the way they're treated with awe? Tevi wondered. Sorcerers met with even more wariness than mercenaries. Might a less deferential approach be preferred? Probably depends on the sorcerer, she concluded. This one had been unconcerned to see people kicked off their table to make room. Admittedly, they had shown no sign of objecting, but it was hardly a way to make people like you.

It was no surprise that normal folk had mixed feelings about the Coven - although, if it did not exist, there would be nothing to stop the sorcerers from doing whatever they wanted. At least the Coven ensured its members gave something in return. The town sorcerer was responsible for the welfare of the inhabitants, supervising healers and other witches who worked in the area. She was oath-bound to protect the people from attack, magical or otherwise. She led the town council, was the final arbiter of all inter-guild disputes and the chief civic judge. Her word, quite literally, was law. On top of that, she could be called on for help and advice in virtually any situation.

And what possible advice could the sorcerer give me? Tevi sighed to herself. The situation was hopeless. She had learnt to treat the mainland men as if they were female but it was only a mental game she was playing with herself. Tevi knew the only lover she would ever want would have to be a woman.

Her tankard was empty again. At the bar Tevi was once more served without delay, but the route back to her seat was blocked by a group of people gathered at one of the tables, forcing her into a detour by the sorcerer's table. Tevi glanced at the woman's face as she passed. Seen close up the sorcerer was older than Tevi had first thought. Wavy grey hair framed a deeply lined face, and pale brown liver spots marked both hands. What advice could she give me? The words repeated in Tevi's head. Before she had the chance to think it through, her feet had stopped.

Immediately Tevi knew it was a mistake. All around the room heads twisted in her direction, only to turn away again as folk decided true wisdom lay in minding their own business. The sorcerer looked up with interest, yet her eyes seem to be focused on a point far beyond the walls of the room.

"May I talk to you, ma'am?" Tevi asked politely.

By way of consent, the sorcerer indicated an empty chair. She waited until Tevi was seated before speaking. "And what do you want to talk about?"

"I'd like some advice."

"Eat three meals a day, sleep well and avoid sharp objects when they're poked in your direction." The sorcerer rested her head on one hand, her voice heavily ironic. "Or was there something slightly more particular bothering you?"

"Er... yes. I wanted... If, er..." The unfocused gaze was disconcerting. Tevi's eyes dropped to the tabletop as she floundered for words. The mocking tones made it even harder to bring herself to speak.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more precise with your question. There are very few sorcerers who can use telepathy to any useful extent, and I'm not one of them."

"My problem is... I need to know what to do..."

Again, Tevi's words ran into a brick wall. However, instead of taunting her, the sorcerer froze, her expression puzzled. For the first time her eyes focused on Tevi.

"What to do?" The sorcerer's voice was light, but serious. "Well, unlikely as it may seem, you should ask those two men to give you a job." She pointed to the people she meant, sitting at one side of the room in the middle of a long table.

"I...? Pardon?" Tevi's surprise jolted her out of her awkwardness.

"You should ask them for a job. Do you know why you should do that?"

"No."

"Neither do I. Isn't it intriguing?" The mocking tone returned to the sorcerer's voice. "Perhaps they pay well."

"That wasn't the question I wanted to ask, ma'am." Tevi said with slightly more determination.

"Maybe not, but it's the question you should have asked."

Tevi opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it as she considered the implications of the sorcerer's words. "You mean it's a prophecy?" she asked at last.

"In a way."

"I thought oracles were supposed to be cryptic."

"If it makes you happier I could tell you that you're about to go on a difficult journey and to expect health problems towards the middle of next month, possibly with your eyes. But I think my original advice was better. It's certainly easier to act on, wouldn't you say?" While Tevi sat, trying to think of an answer, the sorcerer drained her glass and stood up. "Before I go, do you want to try again and see if you can ask me your original question?"

"Er, no. Thank you, ma'am. You've been most helpful."

"True. I have." the sorcerer said pointedly.

The woman spun on her heel and swept out of the tavern. The door swung closed behind her. In the hush that followed, Tevi looked around the room. The two men identified by the sorcerer appeared extremely uneasy. They were obviously aware they had been pointed out, as was everyone in the room, judging by the looks of frank curiosity they were receiving.

Tevi picked up her drink and walked towards the table where the men were sitting, hoping it was not just the sorcerer's idea of a joke. Both men were in their early twenties and dressed in the style of the eastern Protectorate, on the other side of the Spur. The taller of the two had a round face and unruly fair hair that fell forward over his forehead, obscuring his eyes. His companion was dark with angular, boyish features. They stared at Tevi as she sat down; their eyes, edgy and distrusting, fastened on the tattoos on the backs of her hands.

"Well met, fellow citizens." Tevi said, trying to give her most reassuring smile.

"Well met, citizen." They replied in disjointed unison.

"The sorcerer thought you might be able to offer me a job. My name's Tevi by the way."

The fair-haired one answered her cautiously. "My name's Harrick and this is my partner, Rorg. We're traders from Rizen." He gestured to his companion, who nodded sharply.

"Are you looking to hire people?" Tevi asked.

"Um... yes. But we're mainly after guides and mule drivers, though I suppose a scout might be useful - if that's what you are." Harrick replied after a short pause.

"No. I'm just an ordinary warrior." Tevi said.

Harrick's wariness was fading into confusion. "Then I can't see we'd have much need of you. Bandits are rare in the mountains, even in good weather. They aren't going to be about in conditions like these."

"We'll be lucky to get anyone." Rorg interjected. Like his companion, he spoke in the clipped accent of the eastern Protectorate.

"Look, I keep telling you - it will be all right." Harrick hissed at his partner with unconcealed anger.

"You've said that before." Rorg scowled.

Tevi realised she had stepped into an ongoing argument. Admittedly traders were more relaxed around mercenaries than most citizens, but it was amazing that the two men could to so quickly get over the implications of a sorcerer singling them out. It indicated that some major trouble was occupying their thoughts.

Tevi leaned forward to interrupt. "You have a problem?"

Rorg merely shrugged and raised his tankard to his lips. Any nervousness was overwhelmed by his mood of sullen despair.

Harrick turned back to Tevi. "We're planning on going over the old pass, but Rorg has some doubts about it."

"I wasn't aware there was an old pass." Tevi said.

"Oh yes. The current Langhope pass was made sixty years back. Three sorcerers and a couple hundred dwarves did the work. Before that, the old route ran further to the north - an old pack trail, following the contours, twisting and turning all over the place. The new pass just blasted its way straight ahead, up one side and down the other. They even knocked a couple of tunnels through bits that got in the way. You can drive two wagons abreast the whole way."

"Except when it's neck-deep in snow."

The interruption from Rorg was met by a long angry glare. At last, Harrick went on. "We were held up on our way to Treviston. By the time we got here the Langhope pass was closed and may not reopen for months. We're on a tight schedule and low budget and can't afford to wait 'til spring. We only got our loan from the guild last year." Harrick's lips twisted in a grimace, making Tevi remember some of Verron's remarks about the risk of young traders overreaching themselves.

"You think the older route may be passable?" She asked.

"Yes - on foot. It always was, according to Rorg's grandmothers. They used to cover this route in the days before the new pass."

"If you can believe the old fools." Rorg mumbled.

"And why not? The old pass isn't so high and it's sheltered from the north-west wind all the way." Harrick snapped angrily.

"So that's your plan?" Tevi spoke softly, trying to ease the tension.

"Yes. We're going to sell the wagons and transfer the load to mules. Not right now, but according to the weather-witch there should be a clear patch in another twenty days. If we can get a team together we'll be setting off then." He frowned at Tevi. "We're looking mainly for guides and muleteers. The only unskilled labour we're going to need is the brute strength to dig our way out of snow drifts, and that's not going to be your field."

Tevi looked at the table. It was about ten feet long, made from solid timber, probably weighing more than she did. It was ideal for a demonstration. Tevi stood to avoid damaging her chair, raised her eyes to meet Harrick's, and placed one hand on the underside of the table. With a smile, she lifted it a foot into the air. People sitting at either end called out in surprise.

"When you discuss the contract with the guild master, it would be better not to use the word 'unskilled'. You could say you wanted me to fight off starving wolf packs and the like." Tevi said evenly, not in the least exerted by the weight she was lifting. "The mercenaries are very keen to be seen as professionals."

The two young traders stared at Tevi in astonishment. Even Rorg was shaken from his bitter cynicism. He bent down and peered at her hand under the table then sat upright again.

"I don't suppose you've got a couple of friends? We could forget the mules."

Continued in chapter 9.

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