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The first woman took up the tale. “We couldn’t leave the child on the side of the road all by herself! But we don’t know what to do with her. And we can’t ask her who she belongs to.”
“But we think she broke her wrist,” the second one repeated.
The girl glanced between the speakers as they talked, almost as if she could follow the conversation, but she made no effort to join in. Pietro struggled to remember the few Zessin phrases he had learned. What he was coming up with werewineandare you interested?AndI will.None of them appropriate here.
“Do you know her name?” he asked.
“We think it’s Aussen. Or something that sounds like that. You know the whole language just seems like a bunch ofshushingsounds.”
“Well, let’s see what a doctor thinks,” he said.
The shorter doctor thought the wrist was sprained, and she wrapped it accordingly once Jayla brought her the proper supplies. “You’ll need to change that bandage every few days,” she said as she finished up.
“But we’re not going to be the ones watching her,” one of the Maratan women said in an anxious voice. “She doesn’t belong to us.”
“Well,someonewill have to watch out for her,” the doctor said. “You can pass on our instructions to whoever it is.”
Before the Maratan woman could protest again, two teenaged boys barreled into the infirmary area, trading blows and loud insults. One of them was already bleeding from a long cut on his arm, so Pietro guessed at least one of the combatants had a knife. He instinctively stepped out of their way, but the taller doctor strode forward.
“Stop it! Both of you!” she commanded. “If you’ve come here for help, we’ll help—otherwise, go someplace else with your stupid quarrels!”
The two boys immediately broke apart and began vociferously offering their own explanations. Pietro had no interest in their tale, and he was suddenly hungry; this seemed like a good time to slip away. He glanced over at Jayla, who was watching Aussen, but he didn’t bother to make excuses. He just stepped out of the small arena and into the camp.
It didn’t take long to make a meal from his dwindling supplies, and Pietro spared a moment to wonder if everyone else was down to their last travel rations and canteens of water. That might make for a tense situation if the bridge wasn’t repaired in a day or two. He didn’t really think his fellow travelers would start raiding each other’s campfires for food, but he had learned long ago that even the best people were capable of terrible things.
Hoping to discover that there had been some progress in getting a rope across the chasm, Pietro hiked back toward the fallen bridge, where a crowd was still gathered. He was encouraged to see that, while he’d been absent, workers on either side of the chasm had managed to string a thick cable across the divide, and they were even now anchoring it securely on both sides.
“Hardly does us any good,” someone in the crowd grumbled. “It’s not exactly a bridge.”
“It’s not even a pulley,” someone else complained. “I thought they’d find a way to send us supplies, but that’s barely better than a rope.”
Suddenly there was a low murmur of awe from the front ranks of the crowd, then the middle part, and pretty soon everyone was staring. The men near Pietro shadowed their eyes to get a better look.
“I don’t believe it,” the first one breathed. “How can anyone do that?”
Pietro rose to the tips of his toes to get a better look. A single figure was strolling across that cable as casually and confidently as if he were walking down his own hall. He placed his feet carefully but without apparent nervousness on the support that seemed as narrow as a skein of yarn.
“What’s he got in his hands?” someone called out over the low amazement of the crowd.
“Something he’s using for balance, maybe,” another voice replied.
By this time, the slim figure was close enough for Pietro’s old eyes to make out details. He saw a young man of medium height and lithe, easy build. His skin was a deep tan that could mean a Cordelano heritage or a life spent largely outdoors, and his hair was a shaggy mass of brown curls. Pietro didn’t have to look too hard to see the identifier on his left wrist—a red metal band studded with large crystals that winked cheerfully in the sunlight. This was one of the city’s innumerable couriers and that bracelet was designed to catch the attention of anybody eager to flag one down. Many couriers also wore red vests, to make themselves even more visible to potential customers, though this particular individual hadn’t bothered. Then again, he could hardly have hoped to attractmoreattention than he was drawing right now.
“I think he’s carrying another rope,” said one of the nearby men in an uncertain voice.
“He is,” Pietro said, more to himself than to the onlookers nearby. “That’sgoing to be the pulley.”
Chapter Two:
Jayla
Jayla didn’t think she drew a breath from the minute she saw the young man step onto the swaying cable until the second he put his foot safely on the ground on the other side. He was a stranger, so she had no reason to care if he lost his life, but the sheer reckless audacity of his crossing filled her with admiration and envy. The canyon had to drop several thousand feet, and she couldn’t imagine anyone had ever survived the fall. It was his insouciance as much as his skill that impressed her. She didn’t think she had enough of either to attempt such a feat.
She hung back as a dozen men on this side of the gorge rushed forward to greet him, but she continued to lurk nearby, just to watch how events unfolded. She wasn’t all that interested in seeing how the pulley was set up or joining the conversation about what supplies the travelers should request from the city first. She just liked to be near the scene with the most interesting action. She drifted a little closer to the hubbub, still keeping to the outskirts.
But her eyes kept cutting over toward the city man who had just made that perilous crossing. He was loitering on the edge of the crowd, just like Jayla, watching them all with a bright, inquisitive interest. His hands were in the back pockets of his loose pants, but Jayla had already learned a little about him by catching a glimpse of his bracelets. She had never seen a bejeweled red bracelet before, so she had no idea how to interpret that, but the metal on his right wrist had been plain enough to see. It was a single gold band with simple silver fluting on the edges, proclaiming him a man who chose women. And the absence of any other personal bracelets indicated he didn’t have a wife or children.
Well, if he went around negligently putting himself in danger every day, it was easy to see why no woman would want to tie herself to his fortunes.
