At the height of their society, the Usaili territories covered much of the southern parts of Gepaul.
— Janil da Krisol, Lost Natives of the Land
A warm breeze blew past Linsan, bringing with it the smell of fire, rain, and flowers. It teased her awake from an unexpected nap. Slowly, she lifted her head and took a deep breath. At first, she thought the smoke came from the ruined car behind them but the wind blew in the wrong direction.
Underneath her embrace, Brook nestled closer to her. “Sorry… I can't do it….” she murmured, half asleep in her grief. She drew her knee up and tugged her dress down over exposed shin. Then reached out to grab Linsan's hand again and pull it close.
Linsan didn't want to move, but the smell worried her. She peered down toward Gabaw's village in fear that a mob of villagers were coming to finish the job. Seeing only an empty haze hovering along the grasses that crowded the dirt road, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Shifting her body, she flipped her head to the other side and looked in the opposite direction.
A wagon approached from the north, pulled by a pair of large horses moving slow but steadily. She could see two people on the driver's bench, one broad-shouldered and the other much smaller. They were talking loudly to each other and, even from a distance, Linsan could hear a man and woman laughing. The speech that drifted across the distance was impossible to discern, either they were further than she expected or they were speaking a language she didn't know.
Linsan hesitated, glancing back at the village that had betrayed her, and then back to the wagon. After a few seconds, she groaned and made to get up. “Brook, I need to talk to these people.”
Her friend sniffed and looked up. “Who?”
“I don't know, but they came from Fanasis and not Gabaw's. They have a wagon, maybe they could help us get the buggy out.”
Brook rubbed her red eyes. “I doubt any wagon can handle that. There is a ton of iron, copper, and bronze in that hole.”
“I'm not giving up. Please? We can't do this by ourselves.”
“What if they attack us?”
Linsan gave her weak smile. “Then you will clap them over the head, I'll play my violin, and then we run away very fast.”
Brook almost smiled. Then she then pushed herself up to her feet. As she stood on her broken heel, she swayed. She held out her hand and gave Linsan a pleading look.
Linsan took her hand to steady her.
When she took a step, she felt dizzy herself. Their short nap had mellowed out the aches in her joints but her muscles were stiff and the discomfort was more diffused throughout her body. She hissed with pain.
Brook held her tightly to steady her as much as she was doing the same.
Together, they limped back toward the road. Along the way, they both looked grimly at the hole that the buggy had fallen into. It looked even worse than before and Linsan had to look away from the crushed metal and ruptured pipes. She knew she couldn't give up, but seeing the damage left her with a sour taste in her stomach.
Brook's grip tightened as they passed.
At the edge of the road, they waited until the wagon got close and then Linsan waved to them. “Hello!”
The two on the wagon stopped talking. The driver flicked his reins and the horses picked up their pace. Even though it was only a few hundred yards, it felt like forever before the wagon got close enough for her to identify the driver.
“Cal!?”
Cal straightened and then stood up from his seat. He beat his fist against his chest. “Music Girl!”
Brook grumbled. “That's the drunk from the public house? The one who wanted to bed me?” She glared at him and the wagon. She pulled a face.
“Yes,” Linsan said with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
“Why?” Her voice was sullen and bitter.
“Because he apologized after.”
Brook turned to look at her, a frown furrowing her brow. “When did you talk to him?”
“When you were bathing. I went outside and we ended up talking.” After a moment, Linsan added, “Please? We need help and I think he's someone we can trust.”
Brook scoffed and looked away.
Cal reigned the horses to a halt in front of them. He stood up and then hopped off the wagon with a surprising thud. As he did, he called out to the other woman on the wagon, “Hey, Miska, this is the music girl I was just telling you about.”
Miska stood up from the bench. She was slender with dark skin and startlingly golden hair. Her waist had an almost perfect taper that only a corset could create; Linsan could spot some of the boning underneath the white cotton shirt she wore. However, she wore brown trousers instead of a dress. With hands in both pockets, she gracefully stepped over to his side of the wagon and stepped off.
The impact looked graceful, but the ground shook as if someone had dropped a heavy rock from the wagon. A few pebbles danced over Linsan's scorched boots.
Then Cal was standing in front of her with his arms held out for a hug. He had done the same thing when they parted way the previous night, but Linsan wasn't comfortable with a stranger's embrace. But after losing the fight and her buggy, she could use any form of comfort.
She only made it a step before his eyes widened and he did a double-take between her and Brook. “What happened to you two!?”
Brook flinched. She took a step behind Linsan away from Cal.
Linsan said, “We got into a fight and lost. Tilbin and Gabaw blew up the ground and we crashed. The… buggy was ruined.”
Miska raised an eyebrow and strolled past them. She kept her hands in her pocket. Every step she took was a quiet thud and the ground shook slightly. In the corner of her eye, Linsan saw her eyes flick up and down appraising Brook but then she was out of sight.
Cal's face wrinkled with his frown. “Oh, Music Girl, I'm so sorry. When we saw the smoke, we thought it was just the gang being assholes again. They like to get drunk and set the woods on fire and we have to… sorry. Are you okay? Are you injured? You need a bone-setter?”
Linsan held up her hands to halt his questions. She was still close to him and her knuckles almost touched his chest. “No, just scratches and bruises.”
Brook spoke quietly. “And my boots were ruined.”
From behind them, Miska whistled. “That's some impressive damage.”
Brook responded first, spinning around. “Hey!”
Linsan turned to see Miska squatting on the edge of the pit, hands still buried in her pockets.
Miska looked over her shoulder. “Doesn't look ruined though.”
“Really?” said both Cal and Linsan.
Without thinking, Linsan hurried over to the edge. Cal and Brook were close behind.
Miska straightened up with a sigh. “Yeah, we would have to bend that axel back into shape. The body will have some stretch marks and won't be that horrid pink anymore, but I could beat that into shape. The Glasscoasters might be ugly, but they are sturdy bitches.”
She straightened to take her hands out of her pocket. She took one step and then hopped into the pit. Her boots slammed into the hood of the buggy, denting it with a powerful bang that shook the ground. The metal groaned from her weight.
Linsan was more impressed how easily she moved while wearing a corset.
Miska stepped off and onto the ground. Her weight seemed to be easily ten times what her lithe body would suggest; every time she landed on the ground, everything shook around her. She turned and grabbed the hood and peeled it back as easily as paper.
“How does it look?”
“Plant some roots,” came a muttered reply as Miska bent over to peer inside.
Cal chuckled. “I was just telling with my cousin about your playing. It was really good. She heard it last night but was too busy with her girl toys to check on me. Though, she said it had a great rhythm.”
“Girl toys?” Brook asked. Her voice had risen in pitch and some of the listlessness was gone from her tone.
“Some of the farmer's daughters like to play while their cousins and brothers are celebrating the game. It's good fun and no one has to worry about planting seeds.” Cal shrugged. “Not a lot of work for Mis on game days.”
Linsan glanced at Brook who was starting to blush.
Brook looked at her and then sharply turned away.
Cal nudged Linsan. “Oh, Old Gab yelled at me for not bringing you over since you played some new songs she had never heard.” He grinned. “She's jealous and says if I don't bring you to dinner soon, she's going to plant me in the northern forest. Given that you clearly need to rest and recover, you might consider heading back up to Fanasis.”
Near Linsan, Brook whimpered.
Linsan shook her head. “We… we were hoping—”
Miska straightened. “Couple days.”
Startled, Linsan asked, “What?”
“The pistons and gearing is still in good shape. I can handle the frame and body at the smithy. I think we can get you on the road in a couple of days.”
“Really!?” Linsan's heart started to pound with a renewed hope.
Miska shoved one hand into her pocket as she looked around. “Not sure what I can do about the roof. It doesn't seem to be here.”
“Brook removed it,” Linsan said.
Miska's eyes flickered over to Brook. “Really? She has some talents to go with her pretty face and full purse?”
A wave of anger washed over Brook's face. Then she glanced at Linsan and forcibly took a deep breath. “Y-Yes.” Her voice was tense with suppressed emotions.
“Good to know.”
Cal cleared his throat. “Mis.” His voice was a warning.
Miska looked at him with a smug smile. “Cal, go find the roof and any other parts on the ground. Then pull the wagon over.”
He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Guess I'm not heading home. Help me?”
“Nope, you adopted the jikona.”
Linsan started to join him, then she looked at Brook.
Brook gave her a pleading look for a second, but then seemed to change her mind. She gestured down the road for Linsan to go ahead.
“Are you sure?” asked Linsan.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Brook nodded again. She took a few steps to the side and peered down at the woman in the pit. Her lips were pressed into a tight line as she watched Miska casually tear the hood off the buggy and toss it aside.
Together, Linsan and Cal walked back along the path. Linsan's stomach clenched with the idea of meeting with the villagers who had betrayed her, but there were no humans along the road. She could see parts of both cars littering the ground.
Cal stopped and pulled the bigger pieces to the side. “Since I didn't introduce myself properly, my name is Calibo. Calibo atoi idu Oparil if you want to be formal. It means Burning Woods that Comes From Oparil.” He gestured north. “A few miles north of Fanasis, back before…” He sighed. “A while ago. Miska and I share a grandmother on my mother's side and her father's.”
It took Linsan a moment to register the foreign name. In the language of the land, Lorban names began and ended with constants. Having a trailing vowel gave the impression there was something remaining to be said, a sound missing. She struggled to repeat it. “Par… O… par… Paril.”
“You don't have to say it all.”
Linsan held up her hand. “My mother taught me that you always try to pronounce someone's name right. It shows respect.”
“Wise woman. You almost got it.”
He taught her how to say his name properly and then helped her learn Miska's full name: Miska atoi pin Strali.
They found buggy's roof leaning against a tree. It was folded almost in half and scorched black.
He ran his fingers along the sharp edges that scored the metal and the large dent where Brook's concussion blast had torn it off. His fingers were black from soot when he picked it up and slung it hover his back. “You got pretty close to getting killed. What happened?”
As they turned and headed back to the buggy, Linsan told him what had happened.
Calibo flinched at the description of the tree. “They sent you past the Itanith Tree? Bastards. Bad luck from that, it curses strangers who pass it. Until the sun sets, things rarely go your way.”
“Really?” Linsan knew of only two plays that had cursed trees in them, but neither were the Itanith. “Why keep it around? Wouldn't it be better to cut it down.”
Calibo shook his head sharply. “No, never do that. There is a reason there are so many birds on those limbs. They say each one was a man who thought he could solve a problem with some great idea. They always just end up making everything worse.”
A cold shiver rippled down Linsan's spine.
“So who did they kill?”
Linsan tensed.
Calibo said, “We all heard you practice. Butterfly kisses and roses don't shake the ground in the village. I was curious and you tore up the ground pretty badly. It looked like a crash ball tournament right next door. You were using combat magic out here. You intended to hurt those men.” As to make a point, he slammed his foot into the ground and the soil shuddered like when Miska jumped out of the wagon.
He leaned closer and spoke in a quieter voice. “Family?”
“Brook's father. They were were robbing my family and killed her daddy. We were going after them to bring them to justice.”
“Just the two of you? That's foolish.”
“We thought we had a chance.” It sounded worse when Linsan said it out loud.
Calibo patted Linsan on the back. “You were damn close. That loud monster they were driving was on its last legs and leaking oil. I'll be surprised if it takes it more than a few leagues before giving up.”
Hope blossomed. “They might be in town?”
He shook his head. “No chance. They wouldn't be caught dead near Miska. She can fix that beast but won't touch those men with a spear. No, they are probably going to make it… you'd have to ask Mis, but I'm thinking fifteen to twenty miles. That will get them close to some friends. You thinking about trying again?”
Linsan worried her lip, then gave a little nod.
“Don't worry, Music Girl, we'll get you on the road. Miska is good at what she does.”
By the time they returned to the crater, both of their hands were full. Calibo had taken most of the larger pieces but Linsan managed to wrangle the pipes and rods that had fallen out of both vehicles.
Miska was out of the crater as she tossed large hunks of metal into the back of the wagon. She had brought it around so the back end was near the rear of the buggy. The two horses that pulled it were calmly grazing on a patch of grass a few rods away.
Brook stood to the side, staring down at the crater. She looked she had been gutted.
Calibo called out. “How does it look?”
Miska spun on her heels and then strolled over. “I'm sure now I can fix it. Still might take me a few days.”
“Can Tar help?” asked Calibo.
“When we left, he was still drunk. I'm going to need you to keep him sober enough to heat up the forge. Rat and Duir can dig up raw materials for me.” Her voice grew quieter. “Given how anxious the princess is, I'm assuming you are in a hurry?”
Linsan glanced at Brook who shot a glare back at Miska. “Please?”
Brook strode over. “I can pay.”
Miska's gaze raked over Brook. “Yeah, you could.” There was a hardness in her voice.
Glaring, Brook planted a hand on her hip. “How much?”
Instead of responding, Miska began to tugged her shirt out of her trousers. As she did, she looked at her cousin and winked.
Calibo sighed and shook his head in amusement.
“W-What are you doing?” Brook stammered.
Miska turned back to her and finished pulling her shirt free of her trousers. Then she reached underneath and worked at the laces of her corset.
Like her cousin and Old Gab, she had intricate designs tattooed that started at her elbows and went up her arms and underneath her shirt. The ink was shades of blue, green, and reds with plenty of flowers, leaves, and bare branches of winter. The skin revealed by her efforts showed that the tattoos covered most of her chest and stomach and went further below the waist of her trousers.
Brook's face grew pink.
Miska stared pointedly at Brook as she finished unlacing her corset and pulled it free. Without looking away, she folded it up and then held it out for Brook. “Don't worry, Princess. Just hold this, look pretty, and stay out of our way.”
Brook's blush grew an intense red in a matter of seconds.
Miska's smile grew broader as she hefted her corset, a silent command to take it.
Shaking, Brook reached out and gingerly took it from Miska's hands. She held it away from her, like it had been skunked or was on fire.
Miska gave Linsan a smirk and then hopped back into the pit. “Cal, you take the back and while I push.”
Calibo sighed. “Sorry,” he said to Brook.
“What can I do?” asked Linsan.
“Like she said, just stay out of our way, Music Girl. Our bones are of the earth and our blood are the vines in the trees. We know how to move among the stones.” Calibo said before he walked to the wagon.
Brook came up to Linsan. She was still holding the corset away from her. Her blush had reached her shoulders. “How much is this going to cost?”
Calibo stared at the ground for a moment and then shrugged. “Nothing. You stop those men and we'll call it tending to the gardens. Weeds have no place in the areas we culture.”
She shook her head. “No, I can—”
Calibo looked at her, his eyes hard. “Nothing.”
“But—”
“Nothing,” he repeated in a tone that allowed no more argument. When Brook sighed, he reached into the wagon and grabbed a large coil of heavy rope and pulleys.
From inside the hole, there was a groan of metal. Linsan peered down to see Miska lifting up the front of the buggy with one hand. The weight of the vehicle drove Miska's feet deep into the earth but it didn't look like she strained with the effort to kick one tire free and roll a large rock underneath the corner of the Glasscoaster to brace it.
On the edge of her vision, Linsan watched as Calibo picked up the end of the wagon that easily weighed hundreds of pounds. Without even a grunt, he adjusted how the buggy would be pulled onto it.
Linsan decided to listen to Cal and stay out of their way.
When Brook remained at the edge, staring down in shock, Linsan came back to tug her. “Come on, let them help.”
Brook followed, the corset now held against her body as she worried her lip.