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Ilse brewed a cup of tea and settled down with her maps. Rain had soaked through the thick parchment, and she had to unfold the sheets carefully to avoid shredding them, but the mapmaker had evidently used ink imbued with magic, because the letters and lines were as crisp as when Ilse purchased the maps three months before. She traced the outline of the Gallenz River with one newly scrubbed finger, then peered down into the valley to match the drawing to their surroundings.
The river narrowed between two high banks. Two distinctive bends, with settlements on either side. Those would be Aschlau and Gutell. She knew from conversations with Raul that Aschlau was an overgrown village, founded by a miller and an ironsmith, which lay at the intersection of several large farms. The ironsmith sometimes passed along information to Raul. Gutell was a sister settlement across the river.
Both were too small for their purposes. Villagers noticed and remembered strangers. She scanned the map for other, larger towns or cities, where three wanderers might pass unnoticed. Ah, there—a small city named Emmetz. Measuring with her thumb, she calculated that twenty miles separated Emmetz from Aschlau, sixty miles from Tiralien. Far enough that Khandarr would not keep a watch on them.
“Three more days,” she murmured. “Four at the most, and we shall come to our first test.”
* * *
THEY ROSE AT dawn and shared out the cold remains from supper for breakfast. Galena covered their fire pit and latrine. Valara and Ilse refilled their water skin from the stream, before they set off for the valley below.
At noon, they paused to rest and eat wild onions dug from the ground. Then it was onward through a meadow of new grass and wildflowers, to an almost invisible footpath that turned into a muddy trail rutted with wheel tracks. They filched vegetables from the fields outside Aschlau and ate them raw as they circled around the village for the highway beyond.
And now we are among people again, Ilse thought.
Her stomach tightened from nerves. It was like her first encounter with the river and its highway, after she had escaped from the caravan, but then she had lived for weeks alone, starting at every sound because she feared Alarik Brandt. This time it was Markus Khandarr. Strange how she could not measure the distance of terror between these two.
It was late afternoon of the fourth day, the sun slanting toward the horizon, as they approached the outer buildings of what Ilse decided had to be Emmetz. They passed a blacksmith, then several sizable animal pens, crowded with goats, sheep, and ponies. Beyond these stood a wall of brick houses and a paved street. Passing between them, Ilse saw that the banks of the river were much higher here, and most of the town perched on the slopes leading down to the water.
They asked direction from an old woman carrying a basket on her head. The woman’s eyes narrowed at their clothes and knapsacks, but she answered politely that, yes, they had reached the town of Emmetz and they might find an inn or tavern if they followed the main street. Soon enough they found a cheap-looking inn where they bought bowls of porridge. For a few denier more, the innkeeper filled a tub with hot water so they could bathe. He even offered them a scrap of soap for a small price. They scrubbed themselves as well as they could and beat the dirt from their clothes, but it was obvious they had spent weeks traveling through the wilderness, and Ilse felt as if a dozen eyes watched them as they made their way through the main square.
The late-afternoon sky was darkening, and the air was thick with golden light. Many of the shops had closed, but Ilse found a baker still open. She asked for directions to the street where Raul’s chief agent lived. The baker’s mouth settled into a disapproving line. Not a pleasant neighborhood, Ilse guessed. But the woman gave her directions and even offered her a drink of water after Ilse bought a half loaf of bread.
“Where next?” Galena asked when Ilse came outside.
“Minnow Lane. Once we deal with my friend’s friends, we can find a room and bed for tonight.”
Galena shrugged wearily, as if she hardly cared any longer about inns or friends. Valara shook her head but said nothing. She limped from blisters, but she offered no complaints.
Ilse led them back to the main avenue. From there, they hurried along the edge of the riverbank to an open square. A smaller lane at the bottom of the square, mentioned particularly by the baker, looped down the slopes toward the river. Now Ilse understood the woman’s distaste. An air of neglect overhung the neighborhood. Damp stained the plaster, the air smelled of urine, and paving stones changed to ankle-deep mud and filth.
Her companions followed her silently to the house Lothar Faulk had once described to her. Ilse motioned for them to stand to one side. She knocked.
Nothing. She knocked again and set her ear against the door.
“You won’t find ’em home,” said a rusty voice.
Ilse turned to see an old woman peering down from an open window in another house. “Not at home,” the woman repeated. Then she laughed, a high creaking laugh. “Sold up three months ago. Said that business turned bad here, and he’d try his luck elsewhere.”
“Do you know where?” Ilse said.
“No. But for a man with such terrible business, he whistled and sang a great deal. Ar
e you wanting a room for tonight, lady?”
It was tempting. She might question the woman about Raul’s late agent. But it was equally likely the woman had been set to watch any visitors. She gave a friendly smile and shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”
The old woman muttered something about dirty beggars and slammed the shutters closed. Ilse skirted around the corner, to where Galena and Valara waited out of sight.
“Your friend’s friends were not so lucky for us,” Valara said.
“He has other friends. But I think we should try another town. We can find a bed for tonight, then head for Gutell tomorrow.” They would buy new clothes and good packs before they left Emmetz. They didn’t want to attract more attention.
They retraced their path up the hillside. In the brief interval since they arrived, the sun had disappeared behind the hills. Twilight flooded the streets, making them appear all alike. Ilse thought she remembered the way back. There had been a couple quick turns, then a pair of stairs leading up to the more public avenues.
A wrong turn brought them into a maze of passages, overhung with looming blank walls. Not their first wrong turn, Ilse thought as she surveyed their surroundings.
“We should have followed that other street to the left,” she said.
