As the morning mist crept over the border of Valo Duchy, the door of Thorn Apothecary eased open under Andrea’s hand. She had changed back into a coarse dress, but a short dagger was hidden at her waist—the night before, Abler had sketched a rough map for her in the attic, circling the Knight Barracks in charcoal and jotting a note at the side: “Captain Raymond is rigid. Vice-captain Hawk is a drunk. Find a chance to probe Hawk.”
“Morning, Anya.” Linata was crouched behind the counter, counting bottles. Seeing Andrea come in, she pointed at the handcart by the door. “Three crates of laxatives to the town office today. The mayor says the patrol keeps getting the runs—thinks it’s the bakery.”
Andrea nodded, but her gaze slid to the window. The Knight Barracks sat next to the town office, a small yard ringed by red-brick walls. Two soldiers stood at the gate, armor polished to a shine—Raymond’s rule: even a border town must keep “the dignity of Valo Duchy’s knights.”
“I’ll be back by dusk.” She took the cart. As she turned, she caught Abler coming down from the attic—red eyes carrying a hint of expectation. She tipped her chin, expressionless, and that was answer enough.
Abler watched her go. He had just started back up when Linata snagged his arm. “What are you staring at? Black Raven Forest for moon-flowers today, or they’ll be out of season.” She shoved a foraging basket into his arms. “Take this—and don’t ‘forget’ the moss again.”
“Got it.” His voice was a touch muffled, his eyes drifting toward the town office. He’d talked with Kalos past midnight. Kalos said the Emberflame remnants were holed up in lava caves along the Eastern Volcanic Rocks—maybe three hundred men could be rallied, but they needed half a month. Andrea has to settle the knights quickly. If Krog’s people trace us to Twilight Town, we won’t even have a foothold.
Linata seemed to read his mind and elbowed him. “Thinking about your ‘escort-guild sister’ again?”
Abler flinched aside. “No!”
“Then move.” Linata clapped a straw hat onto his head. “Fog hangs deep in the forest—don’t get lost again. Last time you nearly brought back poison caps for the stew, remember?”
Abler rubbed his nose, lifted the basket, and headed out. Sunlight sifted through the mist, dappling the bluestone street. Behind him, bottles chimed as Linata put them away, bright as wind-bells.
Andrea left the cart at the town office’s back door, then, on the pretext of looking for a latrine, slipped toward the Knight Barracks. The yard wall wasn’t high. She stepped onto a stack of firewood and peered over. A dozen-odd soldiers were drilling inside. A tall, gaunt knight lashed a post with his riding whip. “Faster on the thrust! You’re knights of Valo Duchy, not tavern drunks!”
That was Raymond, a silver eagle of Valo set into his pauldrons, face clamped like iron. Andrea ducked back down and slipped into the alley along the barracks—Kalos had said yesterday that Hawk would most likely be shirking at the Drunken Fox Tavern at this hour.
Sure enough, the tavern door hung ajar, rough laughter rolling out. Andrea pushed in. A bearded man sprawled over a table, guzzling ale. His sword belt sat askew; the silver eagle on his shoulder plate was stained with beer—Hawk.
“What’ll it be?” the barkeep asked.
Andrea said nothing. She set a small pouch on Hawk’s table. Three gold coins rolled out, gleaming on the greasy wood. Hawk’s eyes lit at once. He straightened, wiping his mouth. “Miss, this is…?”
“My cousin wants to do a little business and doesn’t want the knights making trouble.” Andrea’s voice barely rose above the room’s noise. Her gaze flicked to his sword. “I hear Vice-Captain Hawk’s word carries weight in the barracks?”
Hawk hefted the coins, chuckling. “Depends what kind of business. Raymond’s strict as a gaoler—especially with…” He leaned closer, dropped his voice. “…people of unclear origin.”
“My cousin sells medicine.” Andrea held his eyes. “If the Vice-Captain could lend a hand, there’d be no shortage of your cut in Twilight Town’s herb trade.” She paused, bait ready. “And if one day…the town changes who’s in charge, the Vice-Captain might rise to Captain.”
Hawk’s drinking paused. His face worked under the beard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Andrea stood. “Drink at your pace. If you think it through, come to Thorn Apothecary for me.” She turned to go. Behind her, coins clinked as Hawk pocketed them. She let the corner of her mouth twitch.
Back outside the barracks, she counted the posts—two guards at the front, two at the back, five pacing the wall, and fifteen drilling in the yard—twenty-four in all, split into three squads. Two squads were Raymond’s loyalists. Hawk had only seven men. Small wonder he griped that “Raymond treats him like a runner.”
Moon-flowers in Black Raven Forest bloom along wet creeks, their pale-violet petals beaded with dew like scattered silver. Abler was crouched at the bank when footsteps rustled behind him. He glanced back to see Linata with a small basket—two barley cakes inside.
“Rest.” She passed it over and sat on a stone, tearing off a piece for herself. “You’re fast today. No sneaking off deeper into the woods?”
Abler took a bite. “No. I’m afraid you’ll hike my medicine tab again.”
Linata laughed and flicked a pebble into the stream. “Speaking of—Valo’s knights have been odd lately. I took Raymond some joint-pain medicine a few days ago and heard him cursing Hawk—said Hawk was trading rations for ale.”
Abler’s hands stilled. “They don’t get along?”
“Not at all.” Linata licked a crumb from her lip. “Raymond’s posted from the duchy, nose in the clouds. Hawk’s local—talked his way up to vice-captain on a bit of war merit and thinks Raymond sidelines him.” She cut Abler a look. “Why ask? Planning to have them do something?”
Abler grunted noncommittally, but his thoughts cleared—Andrea’s opening had arrived.
They fell quiet, only leaves whispering and the water’s hush. Abler glanced at Linata in profile. Sunlight filtered through the canopy onto her hair. Snow-pale strands had caught a tiny leaf. He reached to pluck it. His fingertip brushed—and she slapped his hand away.
“What are you doing?” Linata glared, but her ears flushed.
“A leaf.” Abler’s voice went low. He drew back and pretended to pick again, his ears redder than the petals.
By evening, the apothecary smelled of stewed meat. Kalos sat at the table, eating with gusto. When Andrea came in, he wiped his mouth. “Done?”
Andrea nodded and set down a slip—headcount, postings, and Hawk’s appetites written out. “Hawk’s greedy and hates Raymond. He can be bought.”
Abler took the slip, finger brushing the 24 marked there. He looked to Kalos. “You head east tomorrow. Tell the brothers to gather on the outskirts of Black Raven Forest in half a month.” He paused. “And feel out news of Sandar and Coldgrave. If Shadowweave’s thread web still holds, have her find us a reliable human—someone who knows Valo’s bureaucracy. It’ll make it easier to…”
“Cover our tracks,” Kalos finished, grinning. “Relax, I know the type. I’ve done business in Valo—know an old accountant Krog stripped bare. He hates him to the bone.”
Linata came from the kitchen with a stew pot. At their words, her step checked—but she said nothing, only set the bowls a little too hard, dishes ringing.
Abler watched her back. “Kalos, take the attic for the night. Leave at first light.”
Kalos arched a brow, ready to quip—until Andrea’s look cut him off. She’d seen Linata’s grip go white at the knuckles.
They ate in silence. Kalos went up to the attic. Andrea cleared the dishes. Linata hauled Abler into the back yard.
“What are you planning?” Her voice was soft but stubborn. “Hawk, Raymond, the east… You aren’t traders. And you’re not a caravan escort, are you?”
Abler met her gaze—gray eyes bright as stars in the dark. He opened his mouth, and from the front came Andrea’s cough—the signal: say no more.
“Nothing much.” He lowered his head. “Just trying to move herbs, and worried the knights will make it hard.”
Linata stared at him for a long time, then turned for the house. “Datura tomorrow. Miss a single petal and I’ll add ten gold.”
Abler stood in the yard. The night breeze lifted his hem. From the direction of the Knight Barracks came lights-out. Lamps winked out across the town, all but the apothecary’s—one lone star in the dark.
He knew this calm wouldn’t last. But for the moment—the herbal scent drifting from the shop, Kalos’s snoring filtering down from the attic, the faint clink of dishes from the kitchen—it felt as if, no matter how thorned the road became, it might still be passable with these people beside him.
Moonlight climbed the courtyard wall and touched the fresh-cut moon-flowers by the stream. Pale-violet petals trembled in the night, as if cradling secrets ready to break the soil.