Chapter Three

The townspeople threw a few glances as Lusya walked into the village of Riverglade with the child. Workers lugging about goods or supplies paused to glance their way, children running through the streets slowed to stare, and a few clusters of chatting friends peeked at them while trying to appear still engrossed in conversation. The villagers’ expressions were curious, but Lusya did not think they were hostile or suspicious. For that matter, their Malice was about as stable as could be expected. She did not detect any sudden increases, which suggested they were not bothered by the appearance of her and the child. Lusya had chosen well in coming to Riverglade instead of Whitehill, the village closest the child’s home.

Over the course of monitoring the family, Lusya had observed that the child went to Whitehill with her parents often enough to be recognized. Lusya assumed they were bringing the child with them while shopping for food and other necessities, but she was not sure why. Lusya had visited Whitehill a couple of times to do the same—which meant she, too, would have been recognized, another reason to choose Riverglade—but had never had the opportunity to observe their activities without being conspicuous. Still, she could not imagine the child contributed much.

Regardless, here Lusya and the child alike were strangers as much as any traveler. Though Riverglade was a bit larger, it was not to the extent that one might feel the need to make the longer trip, as could occur with a proper city. There was nothing in particular here that one could not get in Whitehill.

Lusya looked down at the child as they walked. As always, the girl was remarkably clear of Malice, even among children. Father’s instructions called for “a mortal pure of Malice,” but he and Lusya had both known there was no such thing as a totally pure mortal. Like its name implied, Malice was the manifestation of negative emotions. Even a newborn infant could not be free of it.

Thus, Lusya had inferred that he had meant as pure as a mortal could get. This child had just the smallest seed within her. It had been pure luck when Lusya had detected as much while traveling through the area. As long as Lusya could keep that seed from growing, she was confident the child would be sufficient.

Despite all that, however, the child looked far from happy. Happiness may not have been something Lusya was very familiar with, but she knew, in general, what it looked like. The plodding gait, drooping eyelids, and lips curved downward were not it. Given that her Malice was stable, Lusya suspected the child was tired rather than upset. It had taken several hours of walking to reach the village, during which the child had struggled to match Lusya’s pace.

In the future, it may have been worth giving more consideration to the child’s capabilities. Driving her to collapse would hurt the efficiency of their journey. It was doubtful it would be helpful to keeping the child pure either.

Now was not the time, though. The remote location of the home meant it would take some time for the mess Lusya had left behind to be discovered. She had considered burning the bodies, but she had worried that would alert the child or give her more time to return home. At some point, however, they would be found, and the family was well-regarded and recognized enough in Whitehill that someone may well notice one of them was not among the bodies. Nobody in that tiny village had the means to do anything about it, but they were sure to notify someone more able. Lusya wanted to be as far away as possible before that happened. The chief suspects would be a demon or an opportunistic criminal, the former of which the authorities would be eager to stamp out.

On top of that, the family did get visitors from time to time. Some were random travelers—whom the family would, of course, allow into their home—and some seemed to be repeat guests, though her observations had not been long enough to be certain. Based on the responses they received, however, even those who had been there before did not have a regular schedule. The last thing Lusya needed was for one of them or a Sacred Knight patrol to pass through. The child would just have to endure until they were far enough away to obscure their trail.

Much as she would have liked to leave without a trace, however, Lusya knew they needed supplies. She carried enough for herself to eat and drink, and she was not picky about shelter. Now, though, she needed to keep the child alive, healthy, and comfortable. As comfortable as one could be outdoors, at least.

Lusya had considered buying supplies ahead of time, but that may have made it more difficult to stay discreet. It also would have necessitated her to visit the same place twice, go to a different town, or try to avoid settlements on the way out altogether. Each option came with its own inconveniences, taking her out of her way or increasing the number of people who may have recognized or remembered her.

She could have done her buying at Whitehill ahead of time, but she had wanted to be as unmemorable there as possible, and she had already stood out during her stops. Stocking up for a long journey for two would have been conspicuous and may well have marked her as a suspect when it was discovered the child was missing.

“Excuse me,” Lusya said as she approached a pair of women speaking outside a squat, nondescript building. Much like the child’s cabin, it was built out of wood, though it used planks rather than logs. Based on the lack of signage or distinguishing features, Lusya guessed it was a home, not a business or other public facility.

The women paused their conversation to look at her. Their eyes were wide. It was difficult to tell if it was in fear or surprise, but, given the lack of other response, Lusya assumed it was the latter. She supposed that in a village this small and remote, a stranger speaking to you was a novel experience, unless perhaps one frequented the local inn. Maybe even then.

Like the child, Lusya was sure they would assume she was a reltus—something else that must have been a rare sight—as most mortals did. That was not a notion she would seek to correct. It was preferable to them thinking her a demon.

“Yes?” one of the women asked. She appeared to be the older of the two, her face dotted with faint wrinkles and brown hair peppered with gray. She was on the plump side and a few inches taller than Lusya. “Did ya need some’in from us?”

The woman spoke with a rural accent, as was to be expected. If anything, it was odd that the child spoke standard Slarvish. Such a discrepancy was a bellows to the fire of Lusya’s curiosity, but she doubted the child knew the cause. The knowledge may well have died with the family. An acceptable loss, if an irritating one.

“Could you point me to the general goods store?” Lusya asked. “Please.”

Being polite was an effective way to earn favor and increase compliance. Or so Lusya had heard. In her time among mortals since her father’s death, she had seen mixed results. The two women before her exchanged a look, then looked at her again. If anything, they looked less comfortable with her now. Maybe it was her delivery. She would have to work on that. There had never been any need for anything other than her natural demeanor while Father had been alive. If things had been different with her mother, she did not remember.

“O’course,” the younger woman said. She was around the same height as Lusya, with a similar build, though her face was longer, almost gaunt, with a nose that seemed just a bit too large. She smiled, but there was something off about it. It was something to do with the width of it, or perhaps the look in her eyes. Although Lusya had learned to read most facial expressions in her time, they still sometimes baffled her. “Just go that way…” the woman pointed down the road. “…take a left at that first turn. It’s a few doors down, with a big sign out front. Ya can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” Lusya hesitated, then allowed her curiosity to rise to the surface. “What is that expression?”

“Wha’dya mean? It’s just a smile,” the young woman replied. Her mouth remained in a toothy smile, but one eyebrow rose into an arch. This Lusya recognized as a nervous expression. Those who wore it had, in the past, tended to become unresponsive to further questioning.

“I see.”

“Pardon ma’ asking,” the older woman said as Lusya started to walk away, “but is the lil’un all right?”

Lusya looked down at the child, who looked much the same as before. There was no reason to think the child was anything other than healthy, if fatigued, so the woman’s question perplexed Lusya. However, it was true that the woman likely had more experience in this area, given her age. Perhaps inquiring was the correct course of action.

“Child, are you well?” Lusya asked.

The child let out a long yawn and gave a languid nod. “Tired.”

Lusya looked back to the woman. “As you can see, she is fine. I will allow her to rest soon enough.”

The woman pursed her lips and made an odd humming sound. “If ya say so.” She waved on down the road. “Go on, then. Ol’Rahburt will be closing up shop soon.”

From context, Lusya guessed that “Ol’Rahburt” was the owner of the general store.

“I see. Your assistance is appreciated,” she said. She glanced at the child and walked off. “Come along, child.”

The child followed. She was getting slower. They may have had to stop earlier than Lusya had planned.

She followed the women’s directions to get to the shop. Their description of the store had been less than accurate. She was not sure if they had misled her on purpose or if their perception was distorted by living in this rural village. Although there was a sign out front, it was not big by any means. It was little more than a small wooden plank thrust into the ground with faint writing on it and a drawing of an animal so faded Lusya could not tell what it was supposed to be.

The building itself did not stand out either. It was one story tall, constructed of dark wood with a thatch roof, the same as every other building in the area. It was perhaps a little wider, and knowing to look for it helped, but it seemed very much possible to miss.

Regardless of if the deception had been intentional or not, Lusya had arrived, so she supposed it was of little consequence. She walked up to the door but felt a tugging on her cloak before she could enter.

The child was behind her, clinging to the garment as if for her life She had half her face pressed against it, her exposed eye peering up at Lusya.

“Lusya, can we stop yet?” the child asked.

“We are nowhere near our destination, and it is too soon for a break,” Lusya said.

The child stomped a foot and let out a quiet whimper. “But I’m tired!”

“If there is somewhere to sit inside, you may rest while I purchase supplies. If we are to succeed in this journey, you must bear with some hardship.”

“Okay…”

Lusya opened the door and walked in. The child was still holding to the ends of Lusya’s cloak while following, but it was proving no hindrance, so Lusya allowed it.

Considering the size of the building, it was not a surprise to find the interior cluttered. The vast majority of the space was dominated by tables and shelves, each piled with as many goods as it could hold. Just about anything one could want could be found among the stock, from food to weaponry to clothing. None were found in the quality or variety as in a more specialized merchant, but they would suffice for Lusya’s need for the time being.

Only a narrow aisle remained open, wrapping around the room in a rough rectangle. It wasn’t even wide enough for two people to pass without having to turn sideways.

A tall, burly man stood behind the counter at the far-left side of the room, slouching and flipping a coin repeatedly. He looked up and smiled as Lusya entered but continued playing with his money. People did things like that to relieve boredom, apparently, which Lusya could not understand. Boredom itself was not foreign to her, but—while she would relieve it given the means and opportunity—she had never felt the need to use random objects on her person in the absence of entertainment nor did she see how such a task would be effective as amusement.

As she approached the man, she spotted a chair nearby. It could have been furniture or merchandise. Maybe both.

“You may sit there, child,” Lusya said.

The child nodded, releasing Lusya’s cloak, and plodded over to the chair to sit down. Once she was seated, Lusya, turned her attention to the man. He was giving her an annoyed scowl for reasons she could not guess, but his expression shifted to a smile as soon as he realized her focus was on him. He put his coin away and stood straight, hands on his hips.

“Are you ‘Ol’Rahbert?’” she asked.

He nodded. “That’s what they call me.”

It was not a very fitting nickname. He appeared hale and healthy, no sign of frailty or illness. A mop of black hair with the barest hints of gray covered his head, accompanied by a matching, well-trimmed beard. He was not young, but he could not have been out of his forties. That was not old for a human, let alone in the grand scheme of things. In fact, he looked younger than the woman who had called him by that title.

She would admit to feeling curious about how he had acquired that name, and almost asked. Curiosity was one of the few temptations she had ever known. Father had often encouraged her to indulge it for reasons that remained unclear. At the moment, however, time was of the essence. The less time spent in inane conversation, the better.

“I have put together a list of the goods I require,” Lusya said, pulling a piece of paper from one of the pouches she wore around her waist. “Let me know if there is anything I cannot find within your shop, so I do not waste my time searching.”

He took the paper and his eyes scanned over it. “Nah, it’s all here.” He chuckled and handed the list back to her. “Most of it’s pretty shit, but it’ll get ya through a trip.”

“Then it is fine,” she replied. “I will make my selection.”

“I keep the tents and bedding in the back. Takes up too much room out here,” he said. “I’ll go get it for ya.”

He retreated through the door behind him, while Lusya started looking through the goods she could. Nonperishable food was most important. She picked a variety of dried meats, fruits, and nuts. Far from fine dining, but nutritious enough. Bandages and medicine were also important. Lusya healed quick and seldom got sick, but she could not say the same for the child.

In accordance with her agreement with the mother, Lusya would be doing everything in her power to keep the child healthy, even if that had not been a necessary part of her task to begin with. Lusya was not omnipotent, however. She could protect the child from much, but there was a distinct possibility that the child would fall, cut herself on a protruding branch, or become sick at some point. The better Lusya could tend to such issues, the better served her mission and her promise would be.

She grabbed a pack as well. When it had just been her, the few pouches she carried on her person had been enough. Now, though she only needed enough supplies to make it to the next city on her planned route, it was still too much to carry when buying for two. She would consider investing in a pack animal at some point. For now, the bag would have to do.

By the time she returned to the counter, Rahbert was back with a disassembled tent and two rolled up mats to sleep on. The mats were thin and the fabric did not look soft or high quality. They were the bare minimum of not sleeping on the ground, which was more than enough.

“Here ya go,” he said, patting the pile of cloth. “Let me see what ya got there.”

She placed her items on the counter. He sorted through them with a pensive frown, nodding, muttering to himself, and counting on his fingers a couple times. After a minute or so, he seemed satisfied and looked up at her.

“One silver kolar seems fair for this much,” he said.

Lusya blinked and looked over the items. That was not an unreasonable price considering the volume of her purchase, but it was more than she had wanted to pay. There was only so much money she could make without drawing excessive attention. She could pay that much, but it may have complicated matters down the line if any unforeseen expenses arose.

She glanced at the child. The child’s head lolled forward, her breathing soft. She had dozed off. In that case, Lusya could handle this. She just had to avoid rousing the child or alerting the townspeople. A gentle approach would serve her best.

“Make it fifty copper,” Lusya said.

Rahbert snorted. “Half the price?” He shook his head. “Yer haggling could use work, missy. A pretty face ain’t all it takes.”

“I am not haggling,” Lusya said. “I am telling you to lower the price.”

He chuckled. “What? Ya threatening me or some’in.”

“Yes.”

He laughed again but choked on the sound when her hand shot out, lighting quick, to grab his throat. Her hand was much too small to wrap around the whole thing, but she could grasp more than enough to kill him. He pried at her grip with both hands, but that was futile. Her hand did not budge.

“I could kill you before you could make a sound and leave this town before anyone realizes what has happened,” Lusya said. “Under the circumstances, I would like to avoid that, so I am offering to give you something to make the transaction more palatable for you. Do you understand the situation now?”

His head bobbed as much as he could manage with her gripping his neck. She released him and he stumbled back, bumping into the wall behind him with a dull thunk.

“Huh?” the child murmured. Lusya turned to see the child stirring, looking up and blinking rapidly. “What’s going on?”

Lusya shot Rahbert a subtle scowl with a slight tilt to her head. Intentionally or not, he had made this more difficult by forcing her to avoid negotiation methods that would upset the child.

“Seventy-five,” she said.

He coughed and nodded again. She did not think she had been that rough with him.

“Sure thing, seventy-five, that’ll do,” Rahbert said. “Take it and get out.”

“I am glad we could come to an agreement,” Lusya said. She was being sincere, but Rahbert’s snarl suggested he did not believe her. She deposited the agreed-upon sum on the counter and packed up her things. It was fortunate that she did not have to count out seventy-five coins, since the copper kolar was available in denominations equaling one half and one quarter of a silver. The silver itself had similar variants with regards to gold. Most other currencies had similar units these days as well. “We are leaving, child.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” the child replied, though she did not move. She remained sitting, her head lurching forward over and over as she struggled to stay awake.

“Now.”

“I know.”

The child stood with a yawn and looked to Lusya, as if for guidance.

Lusya slung her new pack over her back and made her way to the door with the child trailing behind. At the exit, Lusya paused and looked back at Rahbert, who was forward on his counter and rubbing at his neck. When he noticed her eyes on him, he went stiff and pale, eyes wide.

“Thank you for being cooperative,” she said. “Please do not tell anyone about what we discussed.”

He gave a curt nod. “Yeah. I get it.”

She frowned, though she was not sure if he could tell. Would it not be polite under these circumstances for him to thank her as well? She had shown him the courtesy—self-serving as it might have been—of sparing him and paying him. Neither killing nor robbing him would have inconvenienced her much while the child slept. She would have been the obvious culprit, however, putting a target on her back earlier than she would have liked. That, combined with the small risk she might wake the child, had driven Lusya to show him kindness. She had even shown extra to avoid exposing the child to any distressing scenes.

Oh well. Mortal manners were complicated and inconsistent, but Lusya did not let them bother her much.

“Farewell,” she said as she walked out of the store. She started toward the north end of the village. Much as she would have liked to go in a straight line to her northwestern destination, that was not practical, so she had mapped out her route ahead of time, along with several alternatives if they proved necessary. “Are you rested, child?”

The child looked up at Lusya with eyes glazed over and gave a slow blink. That was not encouraging.

“I’m still tired,” she said. “Can we stop yet?”

“We will not be stopping in this town. We will exit to the north and travel a bit farther.”

The child let out something between a groan and a wail but offered no further protest. There was no notable increase in Malice, so Lusya judged the child’s discontent a non-issue and continued walking.

Lusya glanced at the sky. She intended to travel until nightfall. Though the days were getting longer, the sun still set on the early side. It was already close to touching the horizon, though it had yet to paint the sky the reddish orange of dusk.

As they cleared the town proper and made their way through the farmland beyond, Lusya looked back over her shoulder. The village seemed calm. There were a few notable sources of Malice. One seemed to be Rahbert, based on the location. She had not paid much attention to his earlier, but she did think it had increased. Act of generosity or not, she supposed being threatened and choked would do that, now that she thought about it. The others were too far to be the result of him spreading word of their incident, and, as mortals’ Malice was in near-constant flux and their volatility varied, it was impossible to say if their heightened state was the result of any particular incident or emotion.

It appeared, then, that Rahbert had not rushed out to tell anyone. Not yet, anyway. As long as he waited until she had left, it was fine. Having to subdue or slaughter the villagers if they confronted her would be difficult to explain to the child. Even the best excuse was all but certain to leave the child tainted and useless.

Them reporting her to the local lord or to the Sacred Knights would be more of an issue, but she did not think that would happen over a single threat. Even if it did, the authorities would see it as a low priority if they took it as one at all.

“What are you looking at?” the child asked with an inquisitive tilt of the head. For all her protest, she did seem to have regained some energy.

“I am making sure we are not being followed,” Lusya said, turning her attention back to the road. A farmer doing something with his field gave her a wave, and she replied with a curt nod.

“By the bad people?” the child asked.

“By my opposition,” Lusya said.

“Okay.” The child paused. “Are we?”

“We are not. I would have told you if we were.”

The child gaped as if that were a world-changing revelation and nodded. She went silent for a few minutes as they left the final outskirts of Riverglade behind.

“Can we stop yet?”

Lusya shook her head. “I will inform you when it is time to rest.”

The child sighed and did not speak further.