Some gates are built of wood and others of stone, but the gates of doubt are the hardest to pass.
— What Lurks at the Heart of the River Sin (Act 3, Scene 1)
The morning sun felt like a thousand candles burning inches from her face. Linsan groaned and rolled over. Her shoulder thudded against a barrel and she froze in confusion.
It took her a moment to register she wasn't in the bed from the night before. The flood of memories rushed through her mind, reminding her of every struggle work and mistake she had made. Closing her eyes tightly, she wished she could go back in time and try again.
“I should have just lied,” she muttered.
Relaxing minutely, she listened to the frightfully close sounds of people talking amongst themselves, the creak of wagons, and the thuds of bags being thrown against good. Strange smells, sharper and stronger than expected, wafted over her. She could almost taste dirt and breakfast in the air, along with the stench of people who hadn't showered the night before and stunk of old beer and sweat.
She wrinkled her nose and held her arm over her face to block the burning sunlight from blinding her. Blinking repeatedly to clear her eyes, she glanced around until she could confirm she was in Calibo's wagon like she remembered.
Her limbs were tangled in his blankets. Every time she shifted, the smell of musk and damp blew past her. She groaned as she reached up to grab the side of the wagon. With a grunt, she pulled herself up into a sitting position.
“Morning,” Calibo said cheerfully. His back was to Linsan as he finished pulling off his shirt.
Seeing the vine tattoos that covered his stocky body startled her with how extensive they were. They crawled around his skin and around a couple deep scars that scored his sides and back. She had noticed before that the vines and leave marked out the seasons, but seeing them on his back, she could tell that they represented the years of his life judging from the way the ink faded near the middle and the styles that changed.
Nestled amongst the leaves were little designs and pictures. The ones near his lower back were of trees, mountains, and fires. Higher up, closer to his shoulders, she could see swords and shield were integrated into the tattoos including the insignia of a military unit. The words of the insignia were bisected by one of the scars that ran parallel to his spine for about a foot.
He pulled a clean shirt on and then patted his sides before turning around. “Sorry about that. No matter how much bad the night, I always have to put on some clean clothes in the morning.” His voice was rough, like sandpaper on fresh wood. Scratching his head, he tightened his belt.
The sound of something heavy being dragged caught Linsan's attention. She had to lift herself to look over the edge.
Miska strolled up carrying a long length of metal that looked to be about a hundred pounds. She was easily holding it with one hand while she held three steaming mugs with her other. She pointed the mugs at her cousin. “It also means you don't stink like a deer corpse whenever it rains,” she said with a grin.
She had put on a new corset, the pale green material visible underneath a simple cotton top and a pair of trousers. She wore heavy boots, ones that left imprints in the ground behind her.
He took one of the mugs. The steam teased his cheeks before he took a delicate sniff and then lowered it. “Still hot.”
Turning her head, Miska looked curiously at Linsan. “I never expected to see you in his bed roll.”
She smiled at her cousin. “Good night?”
Linsan blushed and shook her head.
Calibo laughed, then he caught sight of Linsan. The smile dropped from his face as he addressed his cousin. “You know I was up all night, cheria.”
“Me too.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I'm aware of your entertainment.”
There was a soft squeak behind Linsan.
Miska and Calibo cocked their head and turned toward the forge. Curious, Linsan did the same.
A young man, maybe in his twenties, with disheveled hair and a grin, slipped out of the door. He looked at the three and then jumped. Blushing hotly on his freckled cheeks, he turned and rushed away from the forge.
Linsan watched as he crossed to the far side of the yard and then joined a family that was packing up. The others still wore team insignias and they were in cheerful spirits as they cheered for the young man and then got in their wagon.
Calibo grunted. “Very busy, I see.”
“Bitol adir,” Miska snapped with an exasperated tone. She reached over and handed one of the steaming mugs to Linsan. “Here, I guess he doesn't want it.”
It was hot tea, with the scent of honey and steaming hot. She took a deep breath and then bowed her head. “T-Thank you.”
Miska ignored her. She continued past the wagon, dragging the metal bar behind her while she muttered in her other language. The scraping sound was felt almost as much as it was heard. With one foot, she kicked open the large door.
Inside, Linsan could see the twisted parts of the Glasscoaster. It looked damaged beyond repair. Miska had already started to take it apart and parts of the warped and crushed body were leaning haphazardly along the sides of the space.
Miska didn't hesitate as she dragged the bar into the forge. Then she dropped it to the ground in the center of the clear space.
The metal hit the ground with a thud that shook Linsan's mug. She stared in shock. “How heavy is that?”
Calibo strolled up. “I don't know, about… thirteen oko? Um… eight or ten stones?”
“H-How strong is she?”
“Weaker than me, but stronger than both of you. I've seen her carry at least twenty stone… about three hundred pounds? You can tell she moved your wheeled… thing around last night, but it was half in her sleeping corner.” He gestured to a hammock in the corner of the room.
Linsan shook her head. She had to admit, having either Calibo or Miska around would be handy when they went after the murderers. But that was an idle fantasy. She sighed and looked back at the public house. “I should… probably go back in.”
Calibo followed her gaze. Then he nodded. “Want advice?”
Linsan gave a pleading look.
“Be honest.”
Somehow, that felt like another knife in the gut. “I thought I was. That's how I ended up out here.”
“Good. Then, be patient. This is going to hurt a lot, maybe for a long time, but integrity and time heals many wounds. I only wished the people in my life were honest in times like these.”
It sounded like a quote from a play, but not one Linsan knew. “Was that a quote?”
“Yeah, Old Gab's husband. Right before he left her. That was about eighty…” He looked apologetic. “Sorry, not part of the advice. Actually, that was terrible, I should stop trying to help.”
“You should!” yelled Miska. “You're horrible! If you kept your mouth shut, maybe then we won't be as miserable as you!”
He yelled back into the smithy, “Go pound some metal, doli!”
Linsan grinned and crawled out of the wagon. She looked at Calibo and then the public house again, a silent question. When he nodded, she took her leave and headed for the outhouses before going inside.
Har greeted her as he cleaned the tables. “Good morning, my lady.”
“Just Linsan.”
“Are you and your friend going to want breakfast? Or are you heading out right away?” He gestured to the wagons that were already rolling out while other people headed toward the road on foot.
Linsan groaned. “I think we're stuck here for a few days while Miska repairs her… our vehicle.”
“Ah, then I can hope you'll be paying about the same for a room as you did last night?”
She looked at him shock and then cringed. “That… was a lot of money.”
He shrugged. He shoved the rag into his back pocket and scooped up a handful of plates. “Worth a try. Everyone is going to be gone and this place will be empty, so I have to pay the space no matter if someone is there or not.” He made a show of looking up the stairs. “Are you two… going to be needing one or two rooms?”
Unable to answer right away, Linsan grabbed a handful of dishes and followed him. “I… I don't know. Maybe two? Are they expensive? I… I…”
Tears threatened to well up.
The plates in her hand rattled with her thoughts. Linsan said in a quieter voice, “I might need to pay for one myself and I don't have as much money as her.”
In the kitchen, he took the plates from her hands. “Rough night.”
It wasn't a question. She cocked her head in confusion.
Har smirked and then shrugged. He dumped the plates into a half barrel of steaming water. “We're in a village. A small one at that. Word spreads faster than fire and does twice as much damage. You two were the topic during breakfast while most of us folk wondered how you ended up sleeping on Cal's wagon while your girl is up in her room with no signs of moving.”
“We didn't do anything!” Linsan's cheeks heated rapidly.
He scoffed with a smile. “Oh, I know that.”
Linsan froze. “W-What? How?”
“It's Cal. He's a drunk Weedy, but harmless as they go. If he wasn't, we would have gotten rid of him like we did Mis's ma.” There was a sudden hardness in his eyes and voice that didn't match the easy smile on his face.
Linsan's stomach clenched and she desperately wanted to change the topic. “How much is breakfast?”
“If you eat simple and don't mind what's in the pot, its on the room. If you need me to make something or want to use my supplies to cook for yourself, then that will cost.”
“do you have… 'asan nogi?'”
He looked at her blankly.
“Strong tea with lots of sugar and cream.”
“Why didn't you ask that? That I have. Everyone drinks tea strong around here. Let me get you some.”
While he made her tea, Linsan walked over to the large pot near the fire. It was a thick stew, no doubt leftovers from the night before mixed with fresh vegetables, sausages, and eggs tossed into the slop. It was a simple slurry of flavors, but her stomach rumbled with her hunger regardless.
“There is bread under the towel on the bar. Why don't you take a bowl up to your girl? Maybe patch things up?”
She almost said she wasn't sure, but then ducked her head. Ladling out two bowls, she set them down on the bar while retrieving two handfuls of bread and the large cup of tea that Har had made. She brought all of it up the stairs to the room but she had to set them down to knock on the door.
“Brook?”
There was no answer.
“Brook, please?” Linsan worried the bottom of her lip. She held up her hand to knock again, but didn't in fear of upsetting Brook. “I-I brought you breakfast.”
When she got no answer, she knocked again.
Tears threatened to well out. She used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes. “Please? I need to know you are okay.”
Something heavy hit the door from the other side. It rattled loudly.
She jumped and almost tripped. She thought she heard Brook yell something muffled.
Then something else hit the door. It made a muted sound as it dropped across the bottom of the door, cutting off the line of light that had stretched across the floor from the window inside.
Linsan closed her eyes tightly. “I-I… I'm going to leave your food here. I had him make your favorite tea… lots of sugar… and cream.”
The lack of answer brought the same sharp guilt from the night before.
“I'll be back… I promise.”
Tears running down her cheeks, she slumped down the stairs with her meal.
Har looked at her but said nothing.
Her chest aching, Linsan carried her meal to one of the clean tables and sat down heavily. The idea of eating was the furthest from her thoughts, but she knew she needed food to keep moving. Listlessly, she grabbed a spoon and ate.
A few minutes later, Har set down a glass of cider next to her. “On the room,” he said quietly.
Linsan felt guilt-stricken and utterly alone. There was entire village around her, but there was no one who could help her. The desire for home rose up, choking her. Her parents could help, or at least help her struggle with the complex emotions that strangled her thoughts and made her tongue stumble when she tried to explains something she had no words to say or plays to quote from.
She called out to Har, “Is there a Ralonix bank nearby? I want to send a message to my parents.”
He frowned. After a moment, he shook his head. “No, not really. Don't have much use for banks around her. You probably needs to head to Sicmla Rihemlan. They would have one, but that's a couple days travel just to get there.”
Rihemlan was going to be their next big stop. Linsan wondered if she could go on ahead and meet Brook there. But then she remembered her promise only a few minutes earlier. She couldn't leave Brook, not without talking to her; that would only make things worse.
Her shoulders slumped. Every idea she had was falling apart as soon as she thought about it. She didn't have anything at the moment: a few cuks in her case, a cracked bow, a ruined car, and now her companion was not talking to her.
A tear burned as it rolled down her cheek.
Linsan thought about how her mother always took a deep, cleaning breath before she went on stage. She did the same, straightening her spine, inhaling slowly, and then letting it out.
There was nothing she could do about the car or Brook, but she could do something about her bow. Opening her eyes, she asked Har, “Is there somewhere nearby I could fix my bow? For my violin?”
“Not any instrument makers in the area, you'd have to head over to—”
She held up her hand. “Anyone have a horse? Or a wood carver? Someone with glue and some quality wood would get me started.”
Linsan had never repaired a bow before, but she had watched her father do it hundreds of times. It was in her head somewhere, she just had to try. Anything to get her night with Brook out of her head.
Har thought for a moment. “Maybe? You'd probably have to ask a bunch of people? I mean, maybe start with Young Corn since he has the most horses around her but he isn't going to have glue. I'm guessing Ear or Pit would have that? I've seem them do some furniture but I thought it was mostly fitted together.” His voice trailed off hesitantly.
Encouraged for the first time that morning, Linsan smiled. “I've walked one end of this village to the other. A few more steps won't kill me and I have to do something.”
“In that, let me get a scrap of paper and I'll make you a list and a map.”