Pellin stood transfixed as the young woman, cradled in Mark’s arms, cocked her head, intent on each word.
“Yet the woman survived,” Mark continued. “And after a time she learned how to speak and move and discovered that there was a life waiting for her that was all her own.”
For a moment Pellin dared to hope that Mark’s story and physical presence might be enough to calm her, but when he loosened his grip, she flailed, throwing him loose. Convulsions gripped her, and the sound of her head and limbs beating against the ground wrung his heart. Allta stepped forward, but Mark recovered and waved him back.
Like a fighter beaten but undeterred, Mark came within the circle of the girl’s convulsions, accepting blows until he could gather her in his arms once more. Blood ran down his chin from a split in his lip, but he ignored it until the young woman quieted, her chest heaving. Only then did he duck his head to wipe the blood away.
“I think she might be thirsty,” Mark said to Allta. “Would you give me my waterskin?”
Only years of familiarity allowed Pellin to understand the emotion locked behind Allta’s expression. He handed Mark the skin, then turned quickly away to scan the surroundings for any signs of danger. They were still alone.
When Mark held the spout to her lips she started, jerking away, but soon she drank, her neck cording with the effort.
Pellin went to his pack and retrieved a loaf of honeyed bread. “Here,” he said. “She must be hungry, and this will sit easy on her tongue, even if she doesn’t remember the taste.”
Mark nodded. One eye was beginning to swell shut. “Thank you, Eldest.” He took the bread and broke off a piece without any crust and held it carefully to her lips. When she took that, he repeated the process, intermixing sips of water until she showed no more inclination to eat or drink.
When she started to struggle again, Mark repeated the story he told her earlier, rocking back and forth, though the young woman he held matched him in weight and size. She drowsed in his arms and fell asleep.
“How did you know holding her like that would calm her?” Pellin asked. He still didn’t believe the girl could be saved, but her extremity served to reveal aspects of Mark’s character he had only glimpsed before now.
“I didn’t,” Mark said, “but there have been children who have come into the urchins over the past few years who were in similar straits.” He stretched his face, working to open his swollen eye. “Though none of them were as big as Cerena, or as strong.”
Allta rejoined them, the reins of all three horses clenched in one fist. “Can she ride?”
Mark nodded after a pause. “I think so, but if I release her, she’ll wake and probably start struggling again.”
With a nod, Allta handed the reins to Pellin, then scooped both Mark and the girl in his arms to set them atop Mark’s horse.
Chapter 6
They turned south and rode at a brisk walk toward the southern coast. Whenever Pellin checked on his apprentice, he saw the boy’s lips moving, but the words were too soft to hear. Sometime between dawn and noon, the girl stirred from her sleep, her limbs jerking at first with the startlement of consciousness before settling under Mark’s reassurance.
“Eldest,” Mark’s voice called to him. “How far are we from Cynestol’s port?”
“At this pace we will arrive just before dusk. Too late to take ship, I’m afraid,” Pellin said.
Mark nodded as though that information somehow suited him. “With your permission, Eldest, can we stay at an inn with baths?” He wrinkled his nose. “We both need it.”
Pellin nodded in appreciation of Mark’s discretion. His nose had told him as much as his apprentice had admitted to. “Frequent bathing in Cynestol is a more accepted practice than it is in the northern climes. Every inn has public baths—and private, for those willing to pay a bit extra.”
For the first time since Mark had entered Pellin’s service as apprentice and guard, temporary or otherwise, embarrassment discolored the boy’s fair skin. “Will they have attendants, Eldest? Women, I mean.”
Pellin nodded. “No doubt.”
They hit the coast road a few miles east of Port City and came in sight of the harbor just before dusk. The docks were still a couple miles distant, but the sprawl of the continent’s largest city and its shipping center had spread here as well. Everywhere he looked, carts rumbled past in both directions filled with goods coming from or going to the ships that awaited them, and people from every kingdom of the northern continent and even a few merchants from the southern continent roamed the streets.
They stopped at the first inn they found, a two-story structure of weathered wood and heavy beams that might have been salvaged from a ship. The girl started at the noise, but each time Mark spoke into her ear and she stilled.
“Why does it look like that?” Mark asked, pointing at the inn.
Pellin took in the ponderous sight of the Fair Wind and laughed, remembering. “Storms from the southern sea are rare,” he said. “It’s known for being placid, but on occasion, especially as winter approaches, they can be quite severe.”
They rode around back to the stable yard, where Allta lifted Mark and the girl down to set them standing on the ground between the inn and the long, low shed of the stable. A woman came out of the back of the inn, her nose wrinkling as she passed by Mark.
“I’m Misara Anan. You’ll be needing rooms, then?” she asked. “And baths?”
Pellin nodded. “One room, please, large enough for the four of us, and private baths.”
She looked at their plain clothing. “That’ll be one silver half.”
He put two silver half crowns into her extended hand. “And we’ll need
