“Tonight we faced our first real test as a squadron. We are the newest squadron in the kingdom: a recently promoted Lieutenant, two sublieus with no leadership experience, three Elites who have never seen battle and the youngest soldier anywhere in the King’s service. So new we don’t even have a name.”
The man molded human emotion like a sculptor with clay. After the perfect pause, he said, “Tonight, we have earned a name. Tonight each of you proved that you would risk your life for another who bears the Circle and Sword. Tonight you had to trust your leader enough to walk away and allow an Elite to stand alone. I know your hearts were near to being ripped from your chest. If any of us had faltered or hesitated, we would all be dead along with scores of Knobbes’s citizens. Any Elite can fight, or he would never be chosen for training. But I would rather lead a squadron that can keep its head and survive a thorny situation.
“This squadron is strong as metal. Fluid as water. If we are forced to divide, we come together and meld into a single element. Henceforth, we are the Quicksilver Squadron. Quicksilver refers to the metal mercury; it is our symbol of unity, flexibility, and strength.”
From the front of the formation, one of the sublieus shouted, “Quicksilver Squadron! Hurrah!”
The squadron answered, “Hurrah!”
The shout and answer were repeated twice, and Lieutenant Fahrr resumed his place at the head of the column.
Chism’s days as an Elite were numbered, there was no doubt. But every day he spent as a member of Quicksilver Squadron would be an honor. He glanced over his shoulder, taking one last look at the Province he had offered his life for, and realized he might be lucky just to make it back to Palassiren.
Hundreds of torches poured out of the city gates and barracks like liquid fire—Duke Jaryn hadn’t given up the pursuit. The executioner’s block ahead and a violent lynching behind. Like Ander said, Chism never did anything half way.
Chapter 9
Exit
Hatta had given up on Shey’s Orchard. The days were almost all ash-blue and the people faded more toward brown every day. The only bright colors in his life were his mirrors. Some days he stared at them for hours. After discovering the colored ores two months before, it didn’t take him long to develop his style—mirrors like no one had ever seen before.
A mule and rickety cart awaited him in the night outside of Aker’s shop. More than twenty mirrors—wrapped in burlap, sheepskin, and even Hatta’s spare clothes—filled the cart. After one last glance around the shop, Hatta turned away forever. A knapsack with food and two water skins in the cart, and he was ready for the road.
He purchased the mule earlier in the evening from a young man named Stefen on an outlying farm, and the cart from Mikel, the orange farmer. Food came from three different sources. There would be no uncomfortable goodbyes and no one would have a chance to beg him to stay because he’d be gone before they realized it.
At least the journey to Palassiren would be more enjoyable than his previous travels now that he had a companion. “Shall we be off, girl?” he asked the mule.
A shrill bray answered him and reverberated through the quiet streets of Shey’s Orchard. Apparently she felt the night was no time for travel. “Shush,” whispered Hatta as he tugged on the reins. “You’ll wake Master Aker.” The crabby animal brayed again, even louder. Pulling was getting him nowhere, so Hatta moved to the back and pushed against the mule’s rump.
The animal let out another malicious holler and Master Aker burst out of his house, in his nightshirt, to investigate.
“What’s all this, Hatta?”
This
was exactly what he wanted to avoid.
He doffed his turtle-shell print traveling hat and said, “No disrespect taken, I hope. I’m bound for the capital, for to sell my mirrors.”
“Why didn’t you give us a chance to say goodbye?”
“There’s a note,” Hatta offered. “I left a note. Hettie scribed it. It says, ‘Thank you, Master Aker’.”
“Is there any way to make you stay? Did we do something wrong?”
This was the part Hatta couldn’t take. He didn’t know how to bid farewell without creating hard feelings. Why couldn’t people just let relationships stay positive? Before he began, the road ahead had been such a promising chartreuse. Now it was turning gray, blending in with everything else.
Still staring at the ground, Hatta heard Master Aker say, “You don’t want to travel at night. There’s wild animals around here. Twice in the last year people have seen bandersnatches. One of them would’ve killed Elora if Tjaden hadn’t found her in time.”
His lecture wasn’t helping. Hatta had done everything possible to avoid this situation, but here he was again. Tight-lipped and eyes down, he shook his head.
With a sigh, Master Aker said, “I’m sorry, Hatta. I won’t ask you to change your mind. But will you wait long enough for me to write a note for you to deliver to Elora? She’s probably lonely, all alone in Palassiren, what with Tjaden out doing missions…” The mirror maker turned his head to the side and gulped. His lips smacked and his voice was tenuous. “…and we do miss her so.”
Hatta nodded in the moonlight, and Master Aker hurried inside. The urge to sneak off nagged while he waited, but that would most likely create even more hard feelings. Not to mention deprive Elora of the letter. She was fortunate to have a father that cared for her, and it would be a shame to interfere with her father’s kind words.
A short time later Master Aker returned and handed the note to Hatta along with a small rucksack. “Here’s some food and a few coins. Life’s expensive in the city; I hope it helps.”
Hatta thanked him and set the sack into a gap in one of the corners of the cart. Still unsure what to say, he gave Master Aker a smile and tip of his hat. He tugged on the mule’s lead, but it still wouldn’t budge.
“Isn’t that Hass’s boy’s mule?” asked Master Aker. “The trick with this one is the first step. Give her a good scritch right here,” he reached down to the side of the belly, “she’ll pick up that leg, and you’re on your way.” Sure enough, one foot came forward, and the others followed.
Hatta didn’t pause, worried the animal would dig it’s hooves in again. He waved but didn’t look back. He told himself everything was fine between them and the gray feelings started to fade. The small pouch of coins clinking at his waist was the only fanfare as they walked out of Shey’s Orchard.
By the time they reached the Telavir Spoke, it was clear the mule was a dismal conversationalist. She mostly ignored Hatta, but that didn’t surprise him. She was mud colored, after all. Hatta, on the other hand, was feeling quite orange—an encouraging color indeed.
***
After the third night of travel, Hatta came across fellow travelers for the first time. He traveled at night to avoid such encounters, preferring the meetings with nocturnal animals—owls, coyotes, rats, and bats. Bats were his favorite; a little scatterbrained and easily distracted. Hatta could relate to that.
Just after sunrise, he caught up with the slow-moving young couple. When they heard him approach they stopped and waited for him. The man gingerly helped his wife to a seated position at the side of the road. He was hooded, but golden hair flowed out of the cloak.
“How do?” asked Hatta, tugging at the brim of his traveling hat.
“Not well, Sir,” said the man. “Traveling has been arduous for my…wife, and the journey to Palassiren has been more treacherous than we planned. We’ve consumed all of our provisions.”
Hatta smiled at the stranger and fetched his rations from the cart. The bag had grown quite light, and looking inside Hatta saw only a small biscuit and a single strip of beef. Barely enough for a single meal. He handed the vittles to the man, but retained the sack to use as additional padding for his mirrors.
“Is this the last of your rations?”
Hatta nodded. “I regret having not more food to offer.”
“But what will you eat?”
Reluctant to tell him the animals would help him find food, the thought struck him, “Master Aker’s food, of course.”
The rucksack!
Hatta hurried to the cart and dug for the forgotten sack. It sat undisturbed in the cart’s corner and was heavy with enough food for at least a few days.
“There are coins as well. You could buy food from travelers or towns perchance.”
“Do you have any food for yourself?”
Hatta shook his head. The man dug into the sack and produced a wedge of cheese and a round of flatbread and handed them to Hatta. “If we ever have the opportunity to repay you, I pledge to do anything in my power. I’m Raouf, from Hannil Province. And you?”
“No, I’m not.” A curious expression showed on Raouf face. “Oh, Hatta. Yes, I would be Hatta.” Another smile for the stranger, then he walked to where the mule waited and took the lead rope. “From T’lai,” Hatta called over his shoulder, pleased with the lack of an awkward farewell.
The weather grew colder each day and snow spotted the hillsides. After rearranging the packing around his mirrors, Hatta had plenty of clothes to keep him warm. No rain or snow fell on him, or on the mule for that matter. But by the animal’s disposition one would have thought Hatta was forcing him through blizzards.
The cheese and flatbread lasted one day, then Hatta had to forage for food. The taciturn mule was useless, but a variety of other animals helped him. After chittering idly for a while, a squirrel led him to a store of nuts in the fork of an oak tree. Hatta thought the squirrel revealed the stash by mistake, but animals were so easy to read, the hidden supply was obvious. He only took a handful of the squirrel’s stored nuts. If he hadn’t been so hungry he wouldn’t have taken any of the industrious animal’s food.
When he asked a friendly doe where he might find food she signaled a faint path that led to an enormous berry thicket. Not only did he eat his fill, but left with as many as he could carefully fit into his turtle-shell hat. Back at the cart he transferred them into his sack. Raw tubers, mushrooms, and some shriveled figs rounded out his diet.
On the sixth night, if Hatta counted correctly, the next encounter occurred. Having just packed his bedroll into the cart, Hatta was hitching the mule when he heard soft footsteps just outside of the clearing where he’d made camp.
He whispered to the mule, “Stay quiet and perchance they’ll pass us up.” For a miracle the cantankerous mule obeyed. Yet despite their silence, the crunching of leaves got closer. Hatta looked for men and horses but only saw a greenish shadow pass through the brush toward the clearing. It crept cautiously and at times disappeared completely. The night was clear, and half a moon hung in the sky.
Ten steps later the figure entered the clearing. Hatta knew immediately it wasn’t a man, but in the silvery light he had a hard time seeing exactly what it was. The creature walked upright like a man, but had hoofed feet like a goat. It wore no clothes and had pale green skin, leathery like a cow that had rubbed a patch of hair away. Its head was bald and dull red eyes absorbed the moonlight. Like dried blood. Leading with menacing claws, it leaned forward as it walked toward Hatta and his mule, as if ready to pounce at any moment.
Delighted, Hatta said, “You must be a bandersnatch!” The creature paused and inspected him, head bobbing slowly to get different perspectives. Under the creature’s scrutiny the mule, not yet tethered to the cart, bolted through the brush, braying and crashing as she ran.
“How do?” asked Hatta. He wasn’t sure if he should extend his hand or tip his hat. Something tugged at the back of his mind, a warning Hettie gave him about bandersnatches, but the novelty of meeting the unique animal overshadowed it.
“I greatly appreciate you not eating myself. Or the mule’s self,” he added, smiling. The bandersnatch was still, not responding in any way. Animals never actually spoke to Hatta, but their body language and actions were easy enough to interpret. Barks, chitters, tweets, neighs, and brays all had their own quality and tone that said just as much as words could.
The bandersnatch circled to one side, still wary of Hatta.
But you look like food, and you’re alone.
Unfazed, Hatta shook his head. “I can assure you assuredly that I am not food.”
As it continued to approach him in a circling pattern, Hatta noticed its sharp fangs. Fangs that would cause most men to fear and tremble. But Hatta never had trouble with any animal; this one would be no different.
I hunger. You are vulnerable.
Hatta ignored the posture. “How long have you lived? Where do you sleep? Do you ever have gatherings with many bandersnatches?”
The bandersnatch paused.
You are not running or fighting. Food runs or fights.
It showed its fangs and snarled.
Run or fight!
With an outstretched hand, Hatta took a slow step toward the bandersnatch, causing the creature to crouch. It looked like someone loading a spring.
“Is your skin smooth or rough?” He took another step, nearly close enough to feel the creature’s skin. “I predict it feels foresty.”
The bandersnatch looked around the clearing and over its shoulders. The pale green skin took on a vivid red undertone and the eyes were now the color of fresh blood. Though the creature crouched, it seemed to be swelling in size.