“Maybe,” he says more softly. In silence, we ride together until the caravan begins to slow.
“I think they’re stopping.”
“Probably a scheduled break. I’ll see you in Maggie’s tent tonight.” We say our goodbyes, and he shadows out from beside me.
It turns out that it is a scheduled break. The caravan stops every three hours. Young Rivertoads help the elderly with their needs, and someone comes by to check Romulus for signs of distress, including the place where the yoke rubs his shoulders and his feet. They offer the rabble beasts water and bring me a sandwich made from red wheat and a type of blood sausage. It’s simple but delicious.
The moon is low in the sky when we halt beside a river, and this time, the boy comes back and removesRomulus’s harness. “Are we stopping for the night?” I ask him.
He nods. “You’ll find everyone down by the river until the tent is set up.”
“Should I help?”
The boy chuckles. “Maggie has a team and is very…exacting. She’d only shoo you out of the way.”
“Understood.” I give a soft laugh, easily picturing Maggie shouting orders at a small crew. I follow the crowd down to the river and join the people gathered there. Everyone is talking and laughing. Most have removed their shoes and are walking along the shore barefoot.
“Well, Velis, what did you think of your first day on the road?” Jaqual appears beside me, his smile as bright as the moon.
I answer truthfully. “Peaceful,” I say. “I understand why you love it.”
“Ooh? Pray tell, why do you think I love it?” He brushes a string of beads that dangles from his headband behind his shoulders.
Jaqual is the first and only person who has had any real conversation with me here. If I want him to open up to me and trust me with information about the Rivertoads, I need to authentically answer his question. So I think about what I experienced today and try to answer specifically. “The colors,” I say. “All the brightly colored wagons carving their way through the green and the red of the countryside are like the first brush of paint on a canvas. I bet you love that, and I bet you love the community, how everyone helps one another and knows their role during the breaks. And I bet you enjoy how thescenery is never the same from hour to hour. A person could never be bored living among you.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I look over at him, and his amethyst eyes are sparkling. “I believe you may secretly have the soul of a Rivertoad.”
I laugh. “Why are you called that anyway? Rivertoad?”
“It doesn’t seem to fit, does it? Once you know what we’re really like.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“In our culture, toads represent adaptability because they are born in the water and then grow to thrive on the land, and the river is a symbol of the infinite flow of time. My people have been traveling these roads for thousands of years, longer than Stygarde has ruled and since before the dark elves of Willowgulch crawled out of the rocks they once lived under and organized a government. We are a creation of the goddess and are natives of Tenebris, as close to the land as any. We are Rivertoads, and although you might hear the name used in a derogatory way, it is who we are.”
“Fascinating.” I wasn’t expecting to learn that Rivertoads were the indigenous people of Tenebris, or that they considered themselves the preservers of an ancient culture. The way Damien talked about them, they were thieves and hired guns. It’s hard to reconcile the two views of their culture.
He pauses. “You mentioned the colors of the wagons reminding you of paint on canvas. Has anyone introduced you to the artist’s conclave?”
I shake my head.
“I’ll show you.” A few minutes’ walk downriver and Jaqual slides a paintbrush into my hand and positions mein front of a used canvas painted white. I’m in a circle of easels, a group of five Rivertoads painting riverside, three of them old and one young.
“Enjoy, Velis. Maggie’s should be open in an hour.” Jaqual waves his goodbye and disappears toward the wagons as I fight back tears at the joy of painting again. I dip the tip of my brush into the paint and get started.
“It’s lovely,”Terilla says, her gray braids the only sign of her advanced age. Since she’s a shade, I suppose she doesn’t have to show her age at all, but she seems proud of her advanced years and grins at my painting of a wagon.
“Do you think? I’m out of practice.” I painted my wagon blue to represent the river and filled the windows with stars to show how an entire universe could fit inside, a universe of culture anyway.
Terilla nods and tugs on my arm. “It’s perfect, my dear. But you should come now. You don’t want to miss dinner.” I look up for the first time in I don’t know how long and realize that we are the only ones left beside the river. “Oh no! My…cousin is going to be livid.”
She pats my shoulder. “Go. It’s my turn to clean up.”
I thank her profusely and rush toward the scent of grilling meat and the warm sound of music. Inside the tent, Damien and Warbill are seated at the same table as before. Profound relief passes through Damien’s expression when he sees me. I make my way around a crowded dance floor to reach them.
The Rivertoads may have a reputation for being hiredkillers, but they also know how to party. In one corner of the tent, a band wails a lively tune with instruments that resemble a fiddle, a harmonica, and a bass, but are just different enough that I’m reminded this isn’t Earth. Still, there’s a classic rock vibe with a folksy slant. The singer could be a shade version of Stevie Nicks, although her voice is less throaty and more resonant.
I slide in next to Damien. “Thank the goddess. I wondered if we’d lost you along the road.”
