The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Garrett Robinson (poetry books to read TXT) 📖

my old haunts in Northwood and the lands around it. I visited old friends in the town, for of course I knew more people than only Mag and Sten. There was Len, a distant cousin of Sten’s. He was a somewhat shifty fellow, and he often got into trouble with the constables after being found with small valuables that did not belong to him in the strictest sense—or in any other sense, truth be told. But he was always a joy to play Moons with, as long as you did not wager any money against the outcome, for he was both bad at the game and a poor loser. And there was old Elsie, who had been wizened and wrinkled even when I first came to Northwood with Mag. Now she could barely walk, even with her stick, and yet she did not let that stop her from managing her farm, from which came the best butter and cheeses that could be found for a hundred leagues. She had hired hands to help her with the milking and the mucking, for that was quite beyond her, but she oversaw all their goings-on with a sharp eye and an unwavering attention to detail.

One day, over an afternoon snack and more than one cup of wine, Elsie and I fell to talking about Mag. She had long been friends with Mag and Sten, of course, and in the midst of all our talk—Elsie’s being mostly gossip—she said something that troubled me, and upon which I thought often afterwards.

“It shall lead to trouble, you see if I am wrong.”

“What shall?” I asked, cocking my head.

“You. Mag. All this.” Hefting her stick, she swung it around generally at our surroundings, so that I had to duck to keep from being brained. “She has been sitting still too long.”

“Not as long as you.”

“Hah!” barked Elsie. “Peace and quiet are meant for some folk. Folk like me. Not for your kind, or Mag’s.”

That made me smile. “And what, pray tell, is our kind? What makes us less deserving of the rest you enjoy?”

“I said your kind, or Mag’s.” Elsie took a sip of wine and a large bite of cheese before continuing around a full mouth. “You are neither of you alike, and neither of you is meant for stillness. And what is this talk of deserving? Deserving has nothing to do with it. A silly notion, if ever I have heard one. It is something inside you that is different, not anything you have done. All the important things about us are on the inside. And what is in you has never been in me. I never was a mercenary, you will notice.”

“I shudder to imagine it,” I told her. “Any enemy would have thrown down their arms in terror upon seeing you across the battlefield.”

“Why do you think I never took up the life?”

I laughed, and she chuckled, and our conversation turned down another path that was not important, and which I cannot remember. But though I did not show it, my thoughts grew heavy, and they remained so for a long while.

Mayhap I could not stop thinking of her words because they echoed what I myself had come to fear.

The day came at last when Loren decided to leave Northwood. Xain had been growing more and more impatient the longer they delayed. At last he had had stern words with Loren, well outside the inn and away from the rest of us. I did not know what he said, but when he and Loren returned that night, Loren told us she meant to leave—the next day, if she could possibly manage it.

I have thought often, in the years since, what might have been different if she had made her decision just one day earlier. It is useless to consider such things, of course, and yet our minds will not let us be sensible at all times.

But just like that, our spell of inaction vanished. Mag broke into furious activity at once. That night, though Loren and her party went to bed early, Mag and Sten stayed up late into the night, listing what supplies the children would need, and where they could find them for the best price. The next morning, we went over the needed supplies with Loren and Xain. They agreed to all of it, and they gave us their heartfelt thanks for our help.

Mag waved a hand. “Do not be silly. We are old hands at long campaign roads. It would almost have been cruel of us not to share some of our expertise.”

“I will take care of procuring everything,” I told them. “I know the town, and if indeed you wish to leave before sundown, you will need to purchase everything quickly.”

“Mayhap I will come with you,” said Sten. “You shall have to carry a great deal, and your arms are scrawny.”

“With shoulders like yours, you could say that to anyone, oaf.” I slapped his broad arm. “But I would welcome your aid.”

“One of us should help,” said Loren quickly. “Let me send Chet.”

“You will need Chet’s help more than we will,” I said. “Be ready to go by the time we get back.”

Loren sighed. “Very well. Here.” She pulled a few gold weights from her purse and put them in my hand. “Will that be enough?”

“It will. Go see to the horses.” As soon as she had left, I turned to Mag and handed over the gold. “Sneak these into her saddlebags, will you?”

“Of course,” said Mag.

Sten and I went about our task quickly, and before long we had returned to the Lee Shore with food and many skins of water, as well as new blankets and bedrolls. With the help of Xain and the children, we packed these as well as we could and distributed them between the saddlebags of the horses. Before long, Loren and Chet came to eat with the rest of us.

“I have fetched as many provisions as I thought the horses