I.xi
Now, Marsh’s got a proper wall. It’s not sharpened branches that build it up. It’s logs. I reckon nearing four strides tall. Sharpened tops, like you’d figure. And thick, too, because they’ve got these logs on either side, built around some kind of clay or mud where they’ve set a path for the watchers.
As me and Daddy approach, one of the watchers is peering over the top of the wall at us, having seen us before we saw him. Ever heard someone say, “You’ve got a Marsher’s eye?” This is what they’re talking about. The watchers here, the archers, they’re just about the best, and I can testify to that from the competitions I seen back at festivals. This watcher waves at us, lets us know that he sees us there and hasn’t mistaken us for some upright beasts. When we get closer, he nods at my Daddy. “Fallow,” says the watcher. Fallow’s my dad’s name, suppose I should have mentioned. My daddy nods back up, says, “Hebran.”
“Not here with a caravan today?” says Hebran.
Daddy walks up so he’s fair close to the wall. I tag just a couple strides behind. “Just me and the sprite,” says Daddy. “Here to stock up before we send her for citizenry.”
“That time already, is it? Hells, Fallow, you do raise them quick-like, don’t you?”
“Too quick for my liking,” says Daddy. “Someone manning the bridge?”
“No, it’s down. Had a merchant crew in today.”
“Well, how’s that for luck? They still in there, Hebran? I’d surely like to send my Liddy with them if they happen to be going her way.”
“I figure they’ll be at Waypoint, but I haven’t kept my eyes on them much. Just a small getup. About three hands of them, their hired counted in.”
“Fine and fair enough. Fifteen is well better than one, if we can manage it. Maybe Liddy can even earn a caravaner’s fee!”
Hebran laughs at that. “Why, sure. I saw your Liddy chasing hares last Braid’s Day. No doubt they’d take her on in a heartbeat.” He gives me a wink, big enough to be sure I can see it from down here.
“I’ve no doubt they would,” says Daddy. Then he turns to me and gives a little smiles, like we’re sharing a secret.
“I’ll be on the wall till sundown. If you’re still in Waypoint, I’ll drink to your grown-up girl there. Do you want me to tell Devon you’re in town?” Devon. That’s my cousin. One of the watchers.
“Well, we’ve got no specific business with him on this trip, but you’re more than welcome to mention our arrival if you’d like.”
“Fine and fair enough,” says Hebron. He gives another wave to say farewell, then nods at Daddy. Then he looks straight back at me and says, “Spine straight.” I nod.
Daddy pats me by the shoulder and guides me toward the bridge on the south-west of Marsh. Smells like shit, mostly cause of the shit. They make no shame about tossing the town’s droppings down into the ditch here, because the smell keeps the beasts at bay and makes it harder for them to reach this part of the wall. The bridge is a fine point of defense, the only way to get into Marsh without scaling a wall. So Daddy and I cross over on the bridge, careful to avoid any slip that could land us square in the mire of human filth below us.
When we get into town, Daddy turns toward me pretty quick. “I want to see if those merchants are headed back south. You okay to ride with them?”
“As long as none of them spit fire, sure.” That’s an old saying around here. Never trust someone who spits fire. “So, what would you like me to pick up?”
He un-belts and opens me his sack of coins, pulling a few silvers for himself. “A steed,” he says, handing me the stack. “A proper one.”
“Sure. Right. I’ll make my way to the stables, then.”
“Trust yourself on this one, sprite. You want a horse you get on well with. It’ll be companion to you for a long while.”
I don’t say it out loud, but it’s hard not to think it: My only companion. Whatever horse I choose, it’s mostly it and me for the several weeks and hundreds of miles to come.
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