We gallop down the hill but slow when we see an entire herd of rabble beasts tied up in front of the place. I dismount and get a glimpse of the sign on the door. “The Road Raven: Welcome, Friends.”
We look at one another and find a nearby tree to tie our beasts to, as the pole in front of the establishment normally used for the purpose proves to be full. “Perhaps this is a bad idea,” Warbill whispers. “Could be silver coats.”
I shake my head. “Look at the packs.” I point to a roughshod bundle of pots and pans. “This is no army of soldiers. It looks like peasants fleeing their homes.”
“Only one way to find out.” Eloise heads for the door.
9
The Road Raven
Eloise
Ipush my way into the crowded tavern and am immediately overcome by the stench of smoke and unwashed bodies. All the chairs and tables are full, as are all the stools at the bar. I find Damien’s hand and squeeze. People are crying, leaning into one another. Some have food and drink in front of them, but they’re hardly eating.
“Welcome,” an old man in an apron says to us when we reach the bar. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you a table, but there is some soup left and some ale if you need it. I’m so sorry to hear about Covellton.”
“New Stygarde must be stopped,” Warbill says. And his guess is accurate, based on the bobbing heads around us.
“Burned my home, right to the ground, for no reason,” an old woman on the stool beside us says. “I wasn’t harboring anyone! We already gave them our children, now they take our homes. We’ve nothing left. Nothing.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, restinga hand on her shoulder. She pats my hand sympathetically. I remember my disguise and add, “For all of us.”
Warbill hails the bartender with a wave of his hand. “Do you need help in the kitchen? I have experience. Ran a tavern up north.”
For a second, I wonder if the barman will ask questions. After all, it’s possible he knows his competitors and knows Valerian, as we are calling Warbill, is not among them. But the man only motions for him to come around the bar, and Warbill disappears into the kitchen.
Damien raises an eyebrow at me with that strange face that isn’t his own. “I guess we’re staying.”
“Of course we are,” I whisper, moving deeper into the crowd. It takes no effort at all to get people to tell their stories. New Stygarde marched in, just as they did in Bolvet, asked that the town turn us over. But of course, no one in Covellton was harboring us. Nevina knew this because she knew we were behind the rescue of the children. But the point was fear. The point was an excuse to occupy the Borderlands. And so, they burned the village and stole anything of value that the residents couldn’t load onto their rabble beasts.
Damien and I listen and give as much comfort as we can. By the time the moon sets, I am heavy with the overwhelming weight of loss shared by this community, but I sense something different along my bond with Damien. He’s angry. So angry, I have to use extra magic to keep his disguise in place.
“Take a deep breath,” I whisper to him. “You’re going to blow our cover.”
In response, he says, “I’m going to find a place to makecamp in the woods behind the tavern. Bring…Valerian when his work is done.”
I nod, knowing that he will do a lot more than make camp. Damien needs to blow off steam. I almost feel sorry for the trees that will receive the brunt of his wrath.
But I stay and I listen. I hold hands. I give hugs. I buy food for those who escaped with nothing but the clothes on their back, their quills left behind out of fear for their lives. And I help those who need it make beds on the floor of the tavern or on benches in booths.
Warbill joins me at some point and has to usher me out of the Road Raven. My concentration is slipping with my grief, my dark hair going curly and taking on a red hue. “You need rest. Let’s find Damien.”
We find him deep in the woods, lying on a blanket with his head on one of the saddlebags. We have no tent, but we do have bedrolls, and he’s laid them out under the stars. I lower myself to the mat beside him and lay my head on his shoulder. What I’d like more than anything is a hot shower and a warm bed, but that’s not to be. I hear Warbill lie down on the bedroll a few feet from us, and soon, the shade is snoring evenly.
Damien kisses me on the temple and whispers, “We will avenge Covellton.”
“Yes, we will,” I say, and then I’m fast asleep.
10
Caravan
Damien
The next day, we ride in silence, my mind turning over the problem of this war in my head. We need more men. We can’t win without more men. And every day we wait is a day another village like Covellton is burned.
“Do you see that wagon in the distance? I think that’s the end of the Rivertoad caravan.” Warbill points to a splash of bright red along the deep green horizon.
