Daleina’s time limit, he amended.
He wondered how she was. She’d had four days now with the diagnosis. He was certain that Hamon would be with her, ensuring she was comfortable, and he was equally certain she was ignoring all the healer’s good advice and pushing herself as hard as she could for as long as she could—that’s what he would do, and he’d trained her.
After they ate, Ven and Alet took turns sleeping until the shadows in the forest lightened to pale gray and the birds began to chirp. It wasn’t dawn yet, but it was close enough to navigate and that was all they needed. Ten days left—no time to waste. They packed their camp fast, rolling their bedrolls and stomping out the fire. Scooping up his charms, Ven climbed up into the trees. Alet was close behind him.
In the predawn light, the journey to Everdale was swift, and they swung into the heart of town as morning light filtered through the leaves. The center of Everdale was a large platform suspended between several tree trunks. Shops were built against the trunks, and merchants were scurrying around, setting up stands and tents for the day’s market.
Sighing, Alet trudged toward the market. “I’ll spread the word that we’re here.”
Adjusting the quiver on his back, Ven headed for a shop with a sign boasting of the best protective charms north of the river. He tried the door, expecting it to be locked, but it swung open easily. In some towns, he’d had to nearly batter down the door in order to talk to the hedgewitch this early. He didn’t have time to wait for niceties like market hours. “Good morning?”
“We’re not open yet, but come in and welcome!” He heard a woman’s voice, but he didn’t see anyone. The shop was dim and cluttered, with displays of candles on barrels and shelves stuffed with herbs and charms. Wind chimes hung from the ceiling, and he ducked under them—they jingled as he passed. A middle-aged woman with uncombed hair and a stained apron bustled in through a back door. She was carrying a lantern, which she hung on a hook to brighten the room. The shop didn’t look any less cluttered in the light. Layers of dust lay over the charms, and cobwebs filled the rafters. Seeing him, she gasped, and then plastered a smile on her face. “What can I interest you in, good sir? Charms, I presume? We have a wide variety, suitable for every kind of spirit. Even one known to ward off an earth kraken.”
He suppressed a sigh. He could tell already that this woman was more shopkeeper than candidate. He guessed her power was mild, perhaps only extending to skill with crafting charms. “Which spirits do you have mastery over?”
“Wood, though I’d call it more affinity than mastery.” She gave a high-pitched, self-conscious laugh. He wondered what was making her nervous. Him? That had happened before. He was oversized for these tiny shops. He felt like if he breathed too heavily, all the pottery would shatter and the rafters would shake. “You look like a well-traveled woodsman. Let me see what I have that will suit you for journeying . . .” She bustled toward the overladen shelves.
He stopped her. “I am looking for a woman with mastery over more than one kind of spirit, a woman that the recruiters overlooked.”
The hedgewitch froze like a deer in range of his bow. “No one like that here,” she said hurriedly. “I’m the only one with any spirit affinity nearby.”
Ven frowned. “Are you certain—”
The front door swung open, and a man poked his head inside. “Corinda, word is that the champion— He’s here! You’re him! You must be!” Trembling, the man stepped into the shop. He looked like a typical woodsman: a serviceable ax was strapped to his back and charms hung from his belt. His beard was unevenly trimmed, and he was clutching his hat so tightly that the brim curled. “Corinda, you said you’d tell me when he came.”
The hedgewitch pivoted to face the man. “First off, he just got here. Second off, I lied, Renet, to protect you from making the worst mistake of your life. Go home, apologize to your wife, and hope she doesn’t throw you out on your sorry behind.”
“It’s not a mistake! It’s an opportunity—”
The woman took a step toward him. “Renet, one more word, and she will never, ever forgive you. And you will regret it for always.”
He shrank back. “But she doesn’t understand—”
“She knows full well what’s best, and she won’t want you blabbing—”
Ven interrupted. “Am I right in assuming we’re talking about a woman with powers?”
The man Renet bobbed his head so hard that it looked as if it was about to fall off. “My wife, great sir! She pretends she’s an ordinary woodswoman, just good with charms, but she’s more! I’ve seen proof with my own eyes. When I heard you were coming to Everdale—”
The shopkeeper plopped herself between Ven and Renet. “Stop there, Renet.” To Ven, she said, “Sir, this man likes to exaggerate. He’s always looking for a way to get rich quick. He wants the easy way out, instead of working hard for his family and himself. This is just his newest scheme, trying to sell off his wife to the capital—”
“It’s no scheme!” Renet said. “She commanded wood spirits and earth spirits only yesterday. Saved my children from them!”
“He’s wasting your time, great sir,” the shopkeeper said.
“It’s my time to waste,” Ven said, though it wasn’t true. It was Queen Daleina’s time. But he kept his voice placid and firm. It wasn’t so much the man’s insistence that caught Ven’s attention; it was the hedgewitch’s resistance. She was too nervous, too vehement. He focused on her. “Why are you protecting her?”
“Because he isn’t!” She flapped her arms as if she wanted to whale on him but didn’t dare with Ven present—and it was pretty clear from the way the man flinched, she would have. “You’re supposed to be her husband! You’re supposed to care about her, what she needs and wants. Instead, all you think about is you, you, you. You want to be rich. You want to be safe. But at what cost? What happens to Naelin? What happens to your children if this man takes Naelin away? You think about that? Well, you best think about it and shut your trap. Those children need their mother, not their feckless father.”
Ven held up his hand before the man could reply. “I’d like to meet your wife.”
Renet exhaled in a puff, and his face broke into a wide grin. “Of course, great sir!”
Naelin pounded the herbs with the pestle. She tried not to imagine the herbs were Renet’s face. She told herself she didn’t actually wish him harm. He was more like a puppy, exuberant and irresponsible . . . and needing to be on a leash.
“Mama, are you and Father going to fight again tonight?” Llor asked.
She sighed. Their home was too tiny to hide things, and she’d been yelling too loudly. “No, sweetheart, he’ll come home with fresh flowers as he always does, and everything will be all right.”