“Of course,” Cat said. Emily noted that he kept one hand close to his sword as he stood. “Shall we go?”
She let the boys take the lead as the girl led them out of the dining room and down a long wooden corridor into the lobby. A handful of guests were lining up in front of the desk, settling their accounts with the clerks; a pair of guards, carrying staffs, were standing by the doors, ready to evict anyone who quarrelled over the bill. Emily wasn’t particularly surprised to see them. Zangaria didn’t have much in the way of contract law. The only contracts that were honored, outside the merchant communities, were the contracts that were enforced. No one would make a fuss if an inn’s guardsmen threw a debtor in the local stocks.
The girl led them into a back office, bare save for a single table and a set of hard wooden chairs. Emily braced herself as she noted that there was only one way in or out of the room, although the walls wouldn’t stand up to a single blasting spell. The innkeeper–the older woman they’d seen the previous day–sat in one of the chairs, a broadsheet open in front of her. Emily felt a twinge of pride, despite her nervousness. The broadsheets wouldn’t have come into existence if she hadn’t introduced the printing press, cheap paper and a far simpler alphabet. It was a sign that she had changed an entire world.
For better or worse, she thought. The locals seemed to practically revere the written word, if only because it had once been incredibly costly to produce a book, but it hadn’t taken long for broadsheet editors to figure out that they could write lies into their newspapers. Who knows how it will end?
The innkeeper rose, slowly. She looked to be around sixty, too old to have a young daughter, although that was meaningless. People aged quickly in the Nameless World. The innkeeper might well be in her early forties, if not younger. She might not have grown up on a farm, unlike Frieda’s parents, but she would still have had a hard life. Even the highest-ranking aristocrats had hard lives.
“You saved my daughter,” she said, looking directly at Emily. “I…I thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Emily said. She wondered, grimly, just what was going through the older woman’s mind. It wasn’t common for someone to risk their life to save a commoner girl from a mercenary. And Emily was very definitely a young woman. Women who could fight were rare. “It was my pleasure.”
Jade shifted beside her. Emily wondered what he was thinking, too. He would have saved the girl–she was sure he would have saved the girl–but he would have caused much less comment. A fighting woman, on the other hand…fighting women tended to get noticed, if only because they went against the grain. They were almost always combat sorcerers. It would be the height of irony if they were discovered because Emily had risked her life to save a young girl…
“You will not have to pay for your bread and board,” the woman said. She sounded…hesitant, as if she was torn between rewarding them and the need to keep the money coming in. “And…I understand that you are heading north?”
“We have employment near Alexis,” Jade said, stiffly. Their cover story was vague enough to be plausible, but it wouldn’t stand up to sustained questioning. They simply didn’t know enough about what was going on in the north to tell a convincing lie. “We’re expected there by the end of the week.”
The innkeeper nodded. “There is a convoy of merchants leaving for Chatham this morning,” she said, glancing out of the window. “I believe they will allow you to accompany them, if I ask. They’re always keen to be escorted by fighting men. Would you be interested?”
Emily glanced at Jade, then Cat. It sounded promising–no one would look twice at the guards accompanying the convoy–but it had its downsides. The merchants would draw attention…and not just from bandits. There would be inspectors who’d search the wagons and demand bribes if they found even the slightest hint of contraband. Or simply to let the merchant convoy proceed without harassment. King Randor had forbidden local tolls, but–under the circumstances–she wouldn’t be surprised to discover that everyone was throwing up roadblocks. It was a simple way to earn money, in the short term.
And, in the long term, it will kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, she thought. Too many aristocrats seemed to believe they could squeeze and squeeze again, without repercussions. But the local economy never seemed to grow. Why would people invest when their money could be stolen on a whim? And it encourages people to cheat the system.
“It would be a good idea, if you will vouch for us,” Jade said. It was what a mercenary would say. The prospect of getting paid while making their way north, which they would have to do anyway, was very attractive. “We would be delighted.”
The innkeeper’s eyes rested on Emily for a long moment. Emily looked back, keeping her face as bland as possible. The innkeeper knew she wasn’t just a kept woman now. A kept woman wouldn’t risk her life to save a young girl, even if she had the nerve. Emily just hoped she’d keep her mouth shut. If the innkeeper asked any questions, Emily would have to lie…
“Brook will show you to the convoy,” the innkeeper said, nodding to the girl. “And she’ll make the introductions.”
“We’ll have to collect our wagon first,” Cat said, quickly. “We can’t leave that behind.”
Brook nodded and headed for the door. Emily watched her go, wondering if the innkeeper had chosen a gender-neutral name deliberately. Brook might actually be Brooke, but Brooke was close enough to Brook for her not to miss it when she was called. There would be no confusion as she struggled to remember her name, no hesitation that might reveal she was trying to hide something…it was quite possible that the innkeeper had wanted a boy.
Or that she wanted her daughter to be able to pass as a son, if necessary, Emily thought, as she followed the girl out of the office. No one would notice as long as they were careful.
Brook led them into the courtyard, then hurried around the back to collect the horses and wagon. Dozens of other guests were already loading up their carts and horses before departing, trying to make as much progress as possible before night started to fall again. A handful of mercenaries waved to Jade and Cat, ignoring Emily completely. She suspected they didn’t bear any malice towards the two men. Jade and Cat might be fighting on the other side of the war, but mercenaries fought for money. They didn’t bother to hate their enemies.
The girl reappeared, driving the wagon with practiced skill. Jade scrambled up into the back as soon as she stopped, checking to make sure everything was fine. Cat motioned for Emily to check the wheels while he inspected the horses, feeding them little treats to put them in a good mood. They looked to have been rubbed down and fed, thankfully, but they wouldn’t have enjoyed having it done by strangers. The inn simply didn’t have space for the horses to be tended by their owners.
“It looks good,” Jade called. “Hop up!”
Emily clambered up, then watched from the back as Jade sat down next to Brook and cracked the whip. The horses started to move forward, the wagon jerking slightly as Cat jumped into the rear. Brook pointed them down the road, her expression suddenly tighter. Emily realized that it had dawned on her, all of a sudden, that she was alone with three strangers. Being wary of strangers was a wise move anywhere. Emily didn’t blame her in the slightest.