No One's Chosen (66 page)

A horse came trotting from the woods after a few
minutes. It was an old horse but sturdy and strongly built. It
trotted to the man, smelled him, and then did the same to Socair
and the saddle.

"This is Shodar," the old man said. He patted the
horse a few times and it walked off around the yard as it pleased.
"Ah! Yes, there are some things I should prepare for you."

Socair watched the horse move from point to point in
the yard, eating grass and inspecting the edges of the yard before
returning to the center and giving her another smell. It was no
more than ten minutes before Liath returned, his arms full with
items. The first thing he handed her was her sword belt.

"I apologize for keeping it from you. I had nearly
forgotten it in the kitchen. I cleaned the blade and the scabbard
as best I could."

Socair put it around her waist. The grey robe did
little to keep the weight of the belt from digging into her hip,
but it did not bother the large elf so much. There were other pains
to keep her mind off the belt. The man handed her a colorful
blanket when she had cinched the belt. For the horse, he said. She
put it on and slung the saddle over. She could feel the cut on her
shoulder threaten to open with the large motion but she ignored it
as best she could. He then handed her a leather pouch.

"It is not much. Some hard tack, dried meats, and
some salves. It is what I have to spare. There are three silvers,
as well. I have no cloth to make you smallclothes or anything of
the sort. It will serve well enough for clothes and an old piece of
armor or two."

Socair walked to the old man and hugged him tightly.
"Thank you, Liath. Your love… if he is not honored by how you live,
know that I am. It is worth little, I know. But you have my
thanks."

He laughed. "To have saved a Bearer of the Will. It
was my honor."

She strapped the saddle into place and pulled herself
up onto the horse with great effort. When she finally came to a
rest in the saddle she tied the pouch into place and looked down at
the old man.

He smiled up at her. "When you've done with Shodar,
point him at the Mire and send him off. He knows the way."

Socair nodded and turned the horse toward the path.
She pushed her bare heels into the horse and it trotted obediently
away from the old house. The man and his dwelling quickly
disappeared behind the trees of the western Mire, but he stayed
long in her mind as she rode.

Part of her wished she could be like the man. To
escape and live simply. She could hear Doiléir mocking the thought
even now. It was not their way, was it? Silín would have said as
much. Socair could not watch a world be ill treated. There would be
no peace in the woods, away from the world. After all, there was no
justice in it.

The sun would be up soon and the healer had just
woken from her rest to tend to the rest of Teas's wounds. She
stopped in the main room to inform Óraithe that she would soon go
ahead with the rest of the healing. Scaa slept in an awkward pose
on the couch across the room from them.

"It will take a few hours most like. She will still
be in some pain, but I expect she will be able to go home before
midday." The healer yawned. "Pardon me. The work is more exhausting
than I like to admit. Will you stay and see her home?"

It was all she could do to stay as long as she had.
There was much to consider and, to have the truth of it, she
doubted she could bear to face Teas. It would not do to argue with
the girl after such a trauma, but Óraithe knew that she would. She
wanted to have the right words.

"No," she said after a quiet moment. "Scaa and Bonn
will be better, I think."

The healer looked to the short-haired girl with the
square face sleeping on the couch and nodded. "Very well." There
was no judgment in the woman's tone, but Óraithe still felt
guilt.

The healer passed into the next room and began her
preparations. Bonn had been with Teas for as long as she had been
awake. Óraithe did not return to the room so she could not say what
the two had spoken about or whether they had simply fallen asleep.
No doubt a visit from Bonn would keep topics light and keep her
wounded mind from the events of the night.

With the healer gone and assurances that Teas would
soon be sent home, Óraithe took her leave of the shop. The street
outside was cool in the late night air. She walked slowly along it,
forgetting that she was in the High District entirely. There were
no guards to worry her and so she passed the time back to the
Palisade trying to clear her mind.

It was no easy thing, she found, to solve a conflict
between her own ideals and the wishes of one she loved and
respected. The girl had always agreed to her whims, even the most
dangerous among them. Of course it would end in pain at least one
of those times, Óraithe told herself. Surely Teas had not been
swung by something so obvious. This was more important than that.
This was not just one of her games. Cosain was too much her father
to see it, but surely the girl she called sister would understand.
Perhaps time would be all she needed. Óraithe could not count on
such an outcome, though. The decision needed to be made in case
there was no way to explain to Teas what things meant to her.

Óraithe passed through the Palisade when the stars
were growing dim. It occurred to her that Cosain would want to hear
that Teas was in the hands of a healer and that she would be well
again soon enough. There was a lecture that would go along with the
delivery of the news but Óraithe had little choice in the matter.
He had helped her find the girl and he deserved to know what had
become of her.

She made the decision to take her time as she crossed
into the Low District. She had run for ages and the exhaustion was
beginning to catch up with her. The old man could wait. He was
likely sitting around fretting over both Teas and herself at the
moment. Or maybe he had simply gone to sleep. It seemed likely that
he would. There was no cause to stay awake for him, after all. He
had played his part and the worry would be the only thing to keep
him waiting. She would need to thank him for his help. Perhaps she
would even tell him that she had not needed to use the vial. It
would not do his old heart well to hear that she had killed. Not
from her own mouth, anyway. He would want to deny that she was
capable of such an act.

The Low District streets were utterly quiet. There
was not a guard to be seen and only the occasional drunkard. The
Low District was like this at times and Óraithe had come to relish
them. At these moments she felt an idea of what the city could
truly be if justice extended beyond the iron bars she had left
behind. A quiet place where Scaa would not need to steal to feed
Bonn. Where Teas would not have been sold for a bag of coin.

It dawned on her then that this was the fault of the
High District, like so many things had been. They allowed this sort
of thing to happen in a Bastion City. The once home of the Sister
Fásach. They lived pretending that it was some place that existed
within the bars of the Palisade. Those wrought iron bars had only
stood for a few generations. They were not a symbol of what the
world must be. Perhaps if she could just get Teas to see that, the
girl would understand that the dangers were necessary. At least,
the dangers to Óraithe's own body.

Óraithe weaved in and out of the streets, convincing
and reconvincing herself that she had the right of it. She played
the scene over in her mind. She would explain to Teas and it would
be clear that there was no other way. She came up with answers to
the all the questions she could imagine Teas would ask. Or any
excuse the girl would make. Teas would listen, she knew, but she
had to be thorough. The High District had made their lives worse
and this was Teas's first true taste of it. Scaa and Óraithe knew
more directly. It was a cold thing to explain to the girl, but it
was the truth of reality.

The short elf decided to make her crossing at the
square as the sun was rising. There were a few elves at the far end
of the square, where the gallows stood. They were silhouetted and
she could not see what they were doing but no executions had been
announced so she put the thought out of her mind. Seeing to Teas
would be first among them. Cosain was well, if she could manage it.
Surely he would have to see that any elves who could allow such a
horrible thing to happen to such a kind girl was worth fighting.
She realized that she was almost excited that Teas had been taken
and it pushed a curious feeling into her. It was true that what had
happened was horrible, but was it wrong to see a positive side? She
now knew her value in the eyes of the High District elves. They
would not have come for her. They did not even post guards in the
South Markets most days.

She was nearing Cosain's shop. What sort of face
would he show her when she returned? Would he smile? Scream? Would
he be relieved? Óraithe wished she could put on a smile and be
welcomed back with warm, open arms but it was unlikely. It had
never been Cosain's way. He loved with lectures on self-improvement
and rarely did he ever touch her.

The final corner passed and she saw that the board he
usually put into place behind the curtain was not there. It was not
uncommon for Cosain to set up shop early, but the sun had barely
risen and he tended to spend some time in his workshop before
opening the shop properly. He really must have been up all night
worrying over her.

She smiled and pushed the curtain aside. "Cosain,
I…"

There was no Cosain. Not in the front of the shop
anyway. And the tidy little alchemist's store looked as though it
had been shaken violently. The shelves had all been swept clean and
bottles sat broken on the floor. Vials and pouches and pots all
broken and each of them had been opened from the looks of them.
None of the vials still had their stoppers. What had happened?
Robbers? Her brain flashed images of Cosain and she ran for the
workshop.

She shoved the second curtain aside and called to
him, loudly. "Cosain!"

There was no answer. The workshop was in the same
state as the main store. Even the place she had used to sleep was
overturned and the thin blanket torn to pieces. The drawers were
pulled from their places and the contents had been spilled across
the floor. Every single box he owned was there on the ground, the
ingredients that they held no longer inside. So many of them had
been taken but the front of the shop… there was nothing stolen from
the prepared vials. She searched the floor again. The velvet lined
box was missing.

There was no blood. She checked, again and again,
expecting it to appear somehow. Some sort of explanation for why he
might not be there. She looked to the square that led up to his
living quarters. It was on squarely and the ladder was nowhere to
be seen. Could he still be upstairs? Perhaps that was it. He had
fallen asleep, forgetting to close the shop properly. Surely that
was it. She jumped for the door and could not so much as get close
to it. She shouted his name once and waited. There was no response.
She shouted again and again more than a dozen times but he did not
answer. Cosain slept lightly and the orange light coming in from
the outside told her that it was later in the morning than he
tended to sleep as well.

Óraithe burst from the shop into the alley it sat on.
There was a window into his home and so she picked up a rock and
threw it through the hole, screaming for him to wake up. She had
been at it for ten minutes when a voice rang out from behind
her.

An angry old woman in a loose robe stood in an open
window to the other side. "Shut up, girl. The old man left in the
night. And you'll go too or I'll call the guard."

She turned to run. She made for… she didn't know
where, entirely. The den? Could he be there? Why were so many
things missing from his shop? She cursed herself for not having
bothered to learn more about the company he kept. Where could he
have gone? It struck her then. The South Markets.

A sharp corner pointed her toward the main road and
another sent her south. It could not be, she told herself. Would
those damnable markets try to take two of her most precious things?
But, no. The old man was crafty and not near so naive as Teas. He
would not be taken so easily, even in the night.

The streets were still only partially populated and
it made the run faster than she expected. The sun was climbing into
the sky now and she could see around clearly. The South Markets
were beginning to bustle with cloaked heads moving from alehouse to
alleyway and whores doing the reverse. She searched every street
and alley for the best part of two hours. She ran constantly,
overturning bodies she came upon only to reveal one after another
of drunkards. She had stuck her head into myriad alehouses and even
the shops that belonged to less reputable alchemists. She asked
about him to the potion makers and they each replied the same. They
had never seen the man.

There was no strength left in her body when she
returned to the main road. She dragged her feet along sluggishly
and the world spun if she let her mind wander. She walked with no
aim, not sure where she ought to look for the old man. Had the
markets seen to his end? She could not report him missing, surely.
It was too big a risk after the warehouse fire. Would they even
look for an alchemist? A guard was more like to laugh at her than
help, especially if she were to mention the South Markets. There
was not a cloud in the sky and the sun had already begun to peel
away the cool of the morning and replace it with the usual swelter.
Perhaps the square, she thought, and pulled herself toward it. She
could not say how much time had passed in searching and the walk to
the square seemed to be forever, but when it came into view it was
clear something ahead was drawing a crowd.