Self-Made Scoundrel (17 page)

“Do you think we have a reason to not trust them?” Sindra asked. Derk shrugged.

“No,” he lied. He knew something was happening, he just wasn’t sure what. “Forget I said anything,” he said with a wave of his hand. “It’s just an old habit. Jezlen, you will sleep in here. We’ll open a window if you can’t sleep indoors.” The look Jezlen gave him told him it was probably the issue. “Aren’t you all tired and hungry? I could use a wash and a nap before evening meal.”

The doors opened and a man and a woman brought in the belongings, their packs slung over their backs. The room was too crowded for a few moments as the packs were distributed but they all received their personal belongings and the man and woman left without saying anything. Devra opened her pack straightaway to check on the contents and Derk pulled out a clean tunic and trousers, wondering where his socks were.

“I think I’m going to make sure the gifts we brought for their temple are taken care of,” Sindra said. She looked so cool in her light grey dress and robe, Derk felt less hot and sweaty just looking at her. Once he was clean he would see if she would go for a walk with him.

“I can use a clean up,” Asa said, slinging his clothes over his shoulder. Devra rummaged through her pack and pulled out another colorful skirt and tunic. Jezlen snorted before he went to his own things, pulling out a set of garments to change into.

The four of them walked out of the building, asking a priest carrying two chickens by their feet where the bathhouse was. He gestured past the stables with one of the chickens, the bird flapping its wings with displeasure and squawking. “Past the homes, make a right at the barn, you can’t miss it,” he said. They thanked him and continued on through the compound, waving occasionally at the people who stopped what they were doing to look at them.

It wasn’t so different from other small villages back in the Valley proper, Derk thought, nodding his head in greeting to a young woman weaving outside of her home. All the women wore their hair braided and all the men wore their hair very short, their beards long and forked. Their clothes favored the warm colors of the sun but otherwise, it was a village with a large temple compound within it. Old women stooped over their herb gardens, old men smoked pipes and eyed them warily. Their fields grew green and tall out on the eastern side of the village. He saw boys and men practicing their archery on the north side of the barn, arrows thudding into the targets.

“Maybe you can have a go with them later, Jez,” Derk said, pointing at at the archers with his chin. He knew Jezlen had brought a bow and a quiver full arrows with him. The Forester had taken down a few rabbits in the Freewild.

“I could just run at the target with my sword and destroy it,” Jezlen said.

“But where’s the competition?” Derk asked, turning and walking backwards. “Skill against skill? What about that?”

“I could always run at one of the other targets,” Asa offered. “I bet I could take it out with two hits.”

“I bet I could do it in one,” Jezlen said.

“Neither one of you is going to do any such thing,” Devra said, laughing merrily at the both of them. “We’re not here to destroy their targets.”

“We should have a contest once we get back to Portsmouth,” Asa offered.

“That also sounds like a bad idea,” Devra said, cutting Jezlen off before he could say whatever contrary thing which had come to his mind.

“What could you do to the target, Devra?” Derk asked, facing forward. Ahead he saw a stream and three large, wooden tanks with covers standing on one bank. A small bridge led over the stream, a building on the other side of the river looking like a workshop of some sort. Men were fishing by the side of the stream and a priest stood by the tanks.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe…set it on fire?” She sounded unsure, as if she was considering the possibilities. Derk, Asa and Jezlen all looked to each other with concern.

“I am not going to enter a contest with you,” Jezlen said finally, walking slightly farther away from her. Derk and Asa laughed and Devra wiggled her gloved hands at him, grinning. Derk ran up ahead to the priest who stood by the tanks, looking around for the bathhouse.

“We were looking for the bathhouse?” Derk asked. He looked up at the tanks, noticing the lids overhung by a few fingers width, the material seemingly transparent. It was glass.

“Right there,” the old priest said with a toothy grin, pointing. Derk turned and looked. The bathhouse was a platform. Derk blinked and then hunched over to see what was under it. The wooden platform had been reinforced but cut with holes so water used would drain into a basin below. With both the wash area and the basin being so close to the fields, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the purpose of the wash area was for. The stream wasn’t so deep to stand a very harsh summer and Derk could see where it had licked away from the bank.

Derk shrugged at his companions and then back to the old priest. “Do we just…?” The old man placed a bucket under the spigot and opened the faucet, the water filling the bucket quickly. He handed the bucket to Derk and got another one ready as Asa stepped forward. Derk walked up the steps to the top of the platform, the boards creaking under his feet. A railing was set up, probably to keep children from plummeting to their deaths, and in the center was a table with bottles of oil and scrubbing salts, as well as glasses for rinsing off. Baskets were stacked by the stairs, probably to store belongings and Derk started to undress, Asa trudging up the steps behind him. He had just placed his boots neatly by his basket when Devra came up the stairs, her lips pressed together so they almost disappeared on her face.

“Everything all right?” Derk asked. Devra looked to Asa, her green eyes wide. Asa just shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head. He had more scars than Derk would have thought.

“My gloves,” Devra said quietly. Asa stopped getting undressed and looked worried. Jezlen came up the stairs next, not seeming to notice the tension between the twins and setting his bucket on the floor.

“I…I don’t know,” Asa said. “I thought the wash house would be indoors, like it is at home.”

“What’s the problem?” Derk asked. He wanted to get washing, naked as he was. “You can put your gloves in the basket with the rest of your clothes.” He eyes Asa and then Devra, trying to figure out why they were so distraught. “Are you shy?”

“No, it’s just…” Devra took a step closer to him, holding her bucket of water in her hands. “My hands. And my feet.”

“Do you have a scar or something?” Derk said. He had wondered why Devra had insisted on wearing those gloves all the time, even in this heat. “I’ve seen worse, believe me.”

“No,” Asa said. “She has marks on her hands. For the things she does.”

“Like brands?” Derk narrowed his eyes. Branding was for criminals and hadn’t been practiced for some years by order of the Church. It didn’t mean the people in the village knew the practice had stopped. Maybe Devra was worried they would think she was a criminal.

“More delicate than brands,” Devra said. “Still, I’m worried. What if someone comes up while we’re here?”

“Just blast them?” Derk offered. Devra tried not to laugh through her nervousness but she did, smacking him on the arm. Derk looked toward the stairs and then to the table. “Look, just get undressed. Asa, Jez and I will all stand around you and wash up, so no one sees you. It’ll just look like you’re shy.” Derk raised his brows at her and then Asa, waiting for their response. “Besides, they moved here to escape persecution from the Holy Family. I don’t think they’ll stoke the fires if they find out you’re a Wielder.” Derk waited for Asa and Devra to get undressed. Devra pulled off her boots, socks and gloves last and Derk saw the marks there, thin, black lines on the front and backs of her hands, as if they had been burned through her skin. She folded her hands and Asa carried her bucket for her.

“Circle round Devra,” Derk told Jezlen. The elf cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Excuse me?” he said, looking to Devra. Derk could tell he was trying not to look further but instead the Forester looked to the floor and then to Asa’s arm.

“She doesn’t want to be seen,” Derk said, gesturing toward her. “Asa, you’re the biggest, you get in front. We’ll take the sides.”

“This sounds really awkward, from where I’m standing,” Devra said, laughing.

“Stop laughing and wash up. You can giggle while you scrub,” Derk shot back. He looked over the bowls of scrubbing clay and grabbed one, mixing it with water in his hand and then rubbing it over his skin. The water in the bucket was surprisingly warm, almost hot, and he wondered how they heated the water without fire. They all scrubbed away the grime of summer travel, the water feeling good as it cooled on his skin. Derk couldn’t help but look at Devra’s feet, noticing how intricate the design was. Two circles, one within the other and letters and marks written as well. He noticed the marks on her feet were different from one another, different letters and symbols written in black ink on her skin.

No one else came up while they bathed, everyone too busy preparing for the evening meal to take time out for a wash at the moment. Derk dumped the remains of the water over himself and shook his head, spraying water everywhere. The scars on Jezlen’s dark skin made Derk wonder what he had done to merit so many and he wondered if they were evidence of a lack of skill or recklessness. He guessed it was probably the latter.

Everyone seemed happier in fresh clothes, Devra wearing even brighter garments than before. “I’ll see about getting these washed,” Derk offered, sliding his boots on. Everyone dropped their laundry into one basket before leaving down the stairs, giving their thanks as Derk tried to arrange it so it wouldn’t fall out. Derk walked carefully down the stairs and found his way back to the old priest manning the water tanks. “Excuse me,” he said. “Where can I take these to get washed?”

“The clothes are washed downstream,” the old man cackled. “Just give ‘em to the women down there, they’ll get ‘em done for you.” Derk thanked the man and walked by the side of the stream, listening to the sounds of the village. Sounds of metal carried over from the workshop on the other side of the stream. They had their own tank adjacent to the shop and he saw men in aprons, their faces covered with handkerchiefs. Large sunflowers grew on both sides of the stream, their yellow faces pointed toward the sun. Derk spotted a group of women down by the stream, laughing and washing garments while children played. A pair of boys were practicing with bows and arrows and a baby lay in a carved cradle hanging from a tree, its small hands grabbing at the air. Derk waved to the women as he approached.

“I was wondering if one of you could be troubled to wash these for us? If you’re not too busy with your own items, that is,” Derk said, smiling to them.

“I’ll take on your wash,” a younger woman said. Her hair was red and she looked like one of the youngest in the bunch. “I ain’t got any babes to wash after, adding some more’s no thing.”

“Dayin needs to give you a reason to wash more,” one of the women joked, her braids tucked within a pretty handkerchief. “Get him out of the range and in the bed, girl!” The other women laughed, scrubbing and smacking linens and garments against the rocks, rubbing soap onto them.

“There’s more to life than slidin’ out babes, am I right?” the young woman asked, her eyes glinting merrily at Derk. She took her basket from him, her arms strong and the hair on her arms bleached by the sun. “D’you have any babes?”

“No,” Derk said with a shake of his head, feeling slightly out of place with the washer women. Deril didn’t count, not really. He had treated Deril like his son in public and helped Jerila with the boy when he could but the baby wasn’t his.

“You should try harder!” one of the women shouted, all of them laughing raucously. The young woman just laughed while Derk felt his face grow hot.

“I’ll bring ‘em by the dormitory later,” the young woman said, smiling at him. She had a gap between her front teeth; it made her appear younger than she probably was. As Derk walked away from the women, he heard them laughing and joking. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried not to look back to see if they were pointing at him.

Movement on the other side of the riverbank caught his eye. A pair of horsemen rode in from the north, galloping toward the workshop. Quivers of arrows sprouted from the horse’s tack and the men wore bows slung over their shoulders, leather bracers glinting in the fading light. A tree lent a handy spot to hide and Derk ducked behind it, making sure no one was watching.

The high priest came out of the workshop. He was still wearing his clerical garments so there was no mistaking him. Riyin was with him as well. The two horsemen slid from their mounts and said something to the high priest. The high priest looked down to the ground, obviously upset with their news. Riyin said something as well, moving his hands wildly, obviously agitated. One of the horsemen argued back and the two priests fell silent and looked to each other. The high priest looked toward the village as the horsemen grabbed the reins of their mounts, walking them toward the bridge.

Derk turned and strode back to the village before he could be spotted, trying to look nonchalant as he headed back toward the homes. When he looked over his shoulder the two archers were putting their horses into the barn, a woman running up to one of them and throwing her arms around his neck. Derk thought for a moment and headed to the temple.

The temple was not like the ones back home. Temples to the Goddess always had multiple entrances and exits. It meant they had to be guarded in order to keep out intruders, but it also meant people could escape if one of the entrances was attacked. It was a convention left over from the old days, when the people of the Valley were of Holy Haran and burned out of their temples by other factions. The Temple of the Ever Burning Sun had one entrance and it was the one he had seen with the two braziers outside the door. Derk walked through the front door, not sure what to expect.

It was sparser than he had imagined. It had pews within much like the temples for the Goddess, but whereas most temples had round windows opened to the air, this temple had colored glass in fiery colors. Candles burned, not lamps, and the altar was lit with many of them placed in glass holders. Derk wondered where they got the material to make all this glass and wondered if they couldn’t sell some of it in the Valley for a good price.