Chapter 10 - Travel

This particular wagon didn't belong to a farmer, however, but a caravan of gypsies. From what she'd heard the night before when she'd stolen into it, they were merchants, performers, handymen and a tinkerer. She had a feeling that some of them served multiple roles, as there didn't seem to be enough of them otherwise. She hadn't been brave enough to steal out and watch, but there had been a short performance of music and a small play for the gathered travellers. It had been an easy distraction to use in order to climb into a wagon that was filled with fabrics and bags of flour. She had nestled in amongst the fabrics and fallen asleep easily. The bouncing that had woken her suggested that the wagon was moving, but at least the fabrics had kept her leg from jarring again.

The leg itself was getting worse. She didn't know what to do about it since she didn't have any money. She had even tried prying some of the gems off of the scepter she'd stolen, but it had turned red-hot in her hands and none of the gems had even started to budge. She kept telling herself she ought to get rid of the thing but knew she couldn't pawn it. Not knowing what else to do with it, somehow it always ended up making its way back into her pack. She couldn't explain it, but she just couldn't let herself leave the thing behind, no matter how many times she had envisioned herself burying it in the dirt before getting into the next wagon. She was starting to get a fever lately, so she blamed it on that. She'd resolved herself to get rid of it once she was over whatever illness had managed to catch her. She could tell her mind was getting a bit groggy and foggy as a result, and she just focused on getting further away from the Elar and staying hidden.

Food had been the other major issue. When she'd been walking, she'd stolen things from farmers' fields and gardens when she could. Her leg had hurt so badly, however, that the stick hadn't been enough to keep her going. Eventually, she'd sought out more wagons, knowing she wouldn't make it any further on foot. While she smelled foods cooking every night, the best she'd been able to scrounge had been dry grains from within the wagons, or food that had been left for the horses or dogs. If the dogs were around, however, she couldn't get to that either. It seemed they always smelled her and began barking whenever she got close. The rumble in her stomach seemed so loud to her sometimes that she wondered why the people driving the wagons didn't hear it too. Some nights she'd just eaten whatever grain or grass she could get her hands on, just to try and fill the aching void inside her. She'd never longed for bread or meat so much in her life.

It wasn't very long before the wagon stopped. For a while all was quiet. She considered crawling to peek out and see what was going on. She even tried, but it took too much energy to move without hurting, so she gave up and resigned herself to listening.

Eventually she heard the pounding sounds she had previously decided were metal tent stakes. Then that ended and it got quiet again. That was the point where it started getting dark. The wagon she was in was covered in canvas stretched over tall wooden arches. Over a little time it got fairly dark on one side, but the other side was lit by flickering light that she reasoned could only be a campfire.

She heard the crackling of the fire. It sounded about as loud as her stomach gurgling and rumbling. She could smell the wood smoke, and heard the clanging and clattering of cooking.

She remembered the smell of fresh bread that Master Josson baked at his corner shop. She remembered the odd smell of fish being brought in to market. She remembered the smoked smell of meat hanging out in the smokehouses behind the old butcher's house. All of it had been things she'd snatched while it wasn't being watched, and she thought she smelled all of it being cooked just outside.

She heard the sound of music somewhere else in the camp. It sounded inviting, welcoming, and she had to remind herself that she'd been stowing away among them, and not a guest. But she had to see.

She slowly worked her way towards the side of the wagon, crawling over bolts of soft fabrics. It took her quite some time, and she was thankful that at least she was crawling on soft things and not lumpy bundles. At the edge of the wagon she was able to shift the canvas where it met the wagon and peer out just a little.

They had brought the wagons around into a half-circle with the fire in the center and the horses tethered to stakes on the open side of camp. She realized that the only wagons were the four owned by the gypsies and that she wouldn't be moving to another wagon that night after all.

Niza could see two men and a woman laughing as they tuned instruments and played bits of various tunes. The woman had some sort of stringed instrument she kept on her lap, and one of the men seemed to be playing a lute while the other played a flute. Except for the one with the flute, they sang along to the music they played.

A heavyset woman tended to the fire, with a couple of young boys helping her. A sturdy-looking man with graying black hair sat near them, smoking a pipe and watching the musicians. She saw him tapping his foot occasionally, in time to the tune being played.

Two young men were tending to other chores, taking orders from a third, older one. While one of them brushed down the horses, the other moved boxes from wagons to tents. Meanwhile, the older man sat on a crate, working something metal with a tool she didn't recognize. There was also two women sitting near the fire as well, about the same age. One of them was idly juggling a couple of balls in one hand while she chatted with the other. The second one listened, nodding occasionally, as she darned a sock.

She found herself staring at the cookpots on the fire more than anything, her eyes wide and wishful. Her mouth watered at the smells coming from the large kettle that simmered over the fire, and smell of something that had to be bread coming from another, covered pot that the one woman checked on from time to time. It was all she could do to stop herself from leaning further out of the wagon, as if just inhaling the scent more deeply would nourish her in some small way. Just the same, she made note of where the young man who moved the boxes about put the bags of horse feed. With some dismay, she realized that the couple of dogs the gypsies had with them were also tethered in with the horses. She nearly moaned aloud, realizing that her chances at getting some grain herself were ruined.

She had to lower herself a little and stop watching outside. She was feeling faint, and thought that rest would help. She heard bits of conversations, but she couldn't focus enough to follow any of it. She wished she could just call out for help. She was starting to think that being caught would be better than starving to death.

She woke up, never realizing she had dozed off. It was dark. Even the light on the side with the fire was dim. She worked her way back up to peer out of the wagon. The fire was still burning but small, and appeared unattended. From her limited vantage point she couldn't see anyone about.

Finally she called out for help. Her voice was weak and hollow sounding. She tried to yell louder, but wasn't able to manage much. She collected herself for one more try and afterwards collapsed down. Then she cried.

She had apparently escaped the Elar but was going to die in the wagon. She realized she couldn't yell loud enough to wake anyone up. She was fairly certain that she didn't have enough strength left to make it until morning. She wondered briefly what they would think when they found her body.

The sobs made it hard to breathe, and she stopped crying mostly because she lacked the strength to continue. She lay still then, and stared at her leg. She realized that she couldn't feel or move her foot. She assumed that could only mean she was already dying. She did feel cold, and when people died in the street plays she had seen they always talked about being cold.

Then she saw a light. She realized she wasn't scared. She felt strangely at peace. There was a figure, and the figure reached out towards her.

"Rikken, get yer ma!" the figure yelled. The sharpness of his voice shattered the peaceful feeling and Niza realized that she was shaking. It wasn't because of the cold, although she still felt as if she was slowly losing feeling all over her body. Her vision cleared for a moment and she realized that the figure was the young man she had seen tending the horses earlier. He held a lantern in one hand and reached the other one out to her.

"Can you move? How long have you been in here?" he asked. He was crawling into the wagon, getting closer as he spoke. She tried to answer, but her teeth were chattering too much to get a word out. She didn't have the energy to fight it and just closed her eyes against the brightness of the light and prayed. She didn't want to die, but she knew she was closer to death than she'd ever been in her life. She found herself begging the Gods for a chance to live, even though she knew that it was unlikely they'd listen to someone like her. Halfway through her prayers, the young man began trying to move her. Pain tore across her body like she'd never felt before, as if he was trying to split her leg in half lengthwise, up into her hip and abdomen. She heard herself scream before darkness washed over her again.

The next time she woke up, Niza saw the heavyset woman frowning down at her. Most of her body felt strangely numb and she was wrapped in blankets.

"Hello there, what's your name young lady?" the woman asked.

She tried to answer, but it just came out as a painful fit of coughing instead. Once it was over, she looked up at the woman who held out a hand.

"It's alright. Let's just see if you can sit up a little and drink some water first. If you can, then we'll try for some broth next."

Niza just nodded weakly at her and let the woman adjust some pillows underneath her until she was almost in a sitting position. She realized she couldn't feel the injured leg at all, but the lump in the blanket reassured her that it was still there. She felt some pain in her hip and abdomen when she was moved to sit her up, but it wasn't nearly as awful as it had been before.

The woman held the cup up to her lips and Niza couldn't help herself from drinking somewhat greedily. The woman pulled the glass away, chiding her in a gentle voice.

"Not so fast now dear, or you'll make yourself sick."

The woman offered the cup again and she managed to drink more slowly this time. The woman waited patiently while she drank. Eventually she stopped her little sips and the woman reclaimed the cup. The cup was handed to someone else who left.

She looked around. It appeared that she was in another covered wagon. It was a smaller one than the fabrics wagon she'd been in before. She decided she had been set on some straw or hay.

"Now, howsabout we try again," the woman suggested. "I'm Kella, what's your name?"

"Niza," she croaked weakly.

"There, that's better." Kella smiled. "Now, howsabout just a couple more questions and we'll get you some soup to try. You look like you haven't had food in far too long." Niza nodded, feeling short on breath.

"Let's start with this: are ye running from the Elar or something else?"

"They were hunting me," she managed to say slowly. "They had dogs. I didn't know what to do."

Kella looked a little skeptical at the answer, but didn't say anything. Someone cleared a throat outside the wagon and Kella turned. When she turned back she had a wooden bowl with a spoon in it. "Soup," she said. "Let's get a little more strength into you and then we can talk more.

Niza ate the spoonfuls she was offered. It was a gentle soup with tiny bits of potato. "For the moment you're safe with us," Kella said while Niza was eating. "But you can't stay. You're too sick for that. We'll help you get a little bit of your health back, but you need more help than we can offer."

Niza wanted to ask about her leg, but was too scared that the woman would say that it was going to have to come off. She remembered people she'd seen in the city who'd lost a leg to injury or disease. While some had had a wooden leg or a crutch that they got around with, others just ended up beggars on the street. It all depended on what kind of help they'd been able to afford when they'd been injured. She knew she would end up one of the beggars if the leg had to come off.

But at least you'll still be alive, she reminded herself. Somehow it was not much consolation. She'd always relied upon her ability to slip into places undetected and get away quickly if needed to. That would all come to an end with only one leg.

She tried to put those thoughts out of her mind for now, concentrating on the soup instead. Kella held out the bowl and Niza picked up the spoon, trying to bring some soup to her mouth. Her hand shook, however, and all she succeeded in doing was dumping the spoonful on the blanket before she could bring it to her lips. The soup smelled of meat and potatoes and her mouth watered just being so close to it. She wanted to just snatch the bowl away and pour it into her mouth, despite the steam that rose from it suggesting it would be too hot for that. Instead, she let the spoon drop from her shaking hand and a sob broke its way out of her. Once it had escaped, others followed behind it.

"There, now. It's alright dear." Kella used a towel to dab away most of the soup that had been dropped and picked up the spoon. "Here, I'll help you."

It took Niza a few moments to get herself back together enough to sip the soup off the spoon when Kella offered it. Once she started, however, she didn't stop until there was nothing left in the bowl anymore and Kella set it aside.

"There, now," Kella said, patting her lightly on her good leg. "You get some rest. We need to get you to someone for help, but you need some more of your strength back before you should be moved, methinks. We'll be checking in on you if you need anything."

With that the woman withdrew from the wagon, leaving her alone. She looked down at her legs under the blankets. She wanted to look, but was afraid of what she might find. Images of rotting meat crawling with maggots came to mind, and she very nearly lost her soup. She shuddered and tried her best to put that image out of her head.

Her backpack was lying next to her, still buckled up. Fresh clothes would be welcome, she thought, but that would mean moving the blanket off her leg. It would also be a lot of work in her present condition. She admitted to herself that what she really wanted was a bath. She wondered if she'd ever get one again.

She heard soft voices outside the wagon and strained her ears to hear.

"...If the gods have pity on her, perhaps," she caught.

"She's too bad off for me to save her," she heard Kella say.

"There's a town a little north. Maybe they'll know where to take her."

"Let her rest and get a little more soup in her before we move," Kella said. "Maybe see if she can keep down some bread too. The girl's obviously not eaten in some time either. With some food in her I think she can make a few days travel in the wagon, but if we start moving right now..." Kella trailed off and Niza imagined the woman shaking her head. Niza let her head drop back onto the pillows, with a lump in her throat.

"Just keep in mind that the longer we stay, the less progress we make away from the Elar," another, gruff male voice said. "I don't want to be around when they get to this area."

"We're well in advance of their soldiers," said one of the mens' voices. "They still need to secure the lands they've taken before they move on. We can spare a day or two."

"Then it's settled," Kella said. "We'll wait a day or two for her to get some strength and then go to the next town. If they don't have someone who can help her there, maybe they'll know of someone nearby who can."

"I still say we should just leave her," the gruff voice said irritably. "She had no right stowing away in our wagons, putting this problem on us."

"What's done is done," the other man's voice said. "She is here, and we've never turned folk away in the past. Maybe that's part of what separates us from the Elar right now, Jek. We'll see her into safe hands and let the Gods sort out the rest. For now, we wait a day or two. It's decided, and I'll hear no more argument on the matter."

Niza found herself sighing in relief as the voices faded away and she heard footsteps moving about outside the wagon. She reminded herself to make sure she thanked Kella when she next saw her, and wondered who the others had been from the ones she'd seen when she'd peeked out of the other wagon. She had no real way to connect which voices might belong to which individuals.

She slept for a while again, and when she woke up Kella was back in the wagon again. She sat next to Niza, focused on a bit of embroidery she was working on. It was an elaborate design on white fabric.

"Good morning," Kella said without looking up from her embroidery.

"Hi," Niza replied tentatively, wondering what time of day it really was.

"How are we feeling?" This time Kella tucked her needle in place and looked at Niza while waiting for an answer.

She couldn't feel her leg, and that scared her. Her stomach felt better, which was a little bit reassuring. For the most part she felt better all over.

"Not bad I guess, all things considered," she eventually answered. "But I can't feel my leg. What's going to happen?"

"It's too early to know that, dear. In a few hours we'll start moving. There's a town nearby. We'll see what kind of help we can get you there."

"I don't have any money," she protested. "I had some, but some looters robbed me when I needed to cross the river..."

"Well, you won't need it with us. We help those that need it as best we can. I'm afraid we can only help you so much though. Don't worry, we'll find someone who'll help you more."

"Thank you," she said meekly. "I don't know who else might be willing to help me more than you already have though."

"Well, if there isn't anyone in town who can help, then we'll find someone else. Churches will always help out someone in need of healing like you are. They just might ask a peck or so of work from you in return afterwards."

Niza nodded, wishing the sanctuary of a church felt truely safe. But when the Elar had invaded the city, they'd gone after the priests first. She'd also kept out of churches in the past, fearful that the priests would be able to see right through her and would condemn her outright for her thievery. She knew she had no more options left at this point, however, and that her fate was in the hands of the Gods as it was. She could think of far worse futures than being stuck cleaning church floors for the rest of her life.

While Niza had been thinking, Kella had leaned out the side of the wagon and called to someone in the camp. In short order, she had another bowl of soup in her hand which she offered to Niza. The bowl steamed slightly and smelled the same as the last soup. Niza held out her hands, trying not to seem overly eager despite the immediate rumbling of her stomach at the aroma.

"I think I can manage it myself this time," she said.

"Just let me know if you need help," Kella nodded, handing over the bowl. "And don't go too quickly. You're stomach still needs to adjust to getting proper nourishment. Gods only know what you've been eating, but it wasn't doing you any good, dear."

"Grass and horse feed mostly," Niza admitted between spoonfuls. "I don't have money and couldn't walk the road anymore with my leg. I started hiding in wagons when it hurt too much to walk. I was able to scrounge some food while walking through the fields, but hiding in the wagons made it harder. I figured if the horses could eat it, then so could I. At least for a while. I thought I just needed to rest the leg and it would get better."

"Where are you from, Niza?" Kella asked, returning to her embroidery as she did. She hardly needed to look down at the fabric as her hands flew up and down, drawing the needle and thread through it in a practiced motion.

"Riverport," she answered, not sure if that was supposed to be specific enough. It wasn't as though she had a true home there. She had heard other people refer to street names and such, but she'd never been able to read the signs for them. There were several she knew the names of, but even still it wasn't as though she lived in a house.

"Well, then you've already traveled pretty far then," Kella said. If they were chasing you for something, I'm sure they gave up quite a whiles back. But they are coming this way, but that's just an invasion, not chasing after a young girl."

"You think so?" Niza asked, doubtful.

"They're trying to take over the whole world, or so it seems. Not sure why, though. Everything we've always heard, they always kept to themselves. We used to talk to ship captains that would talk about how the Elar wouldn't even trade outside their island, or islands, or whatever they had. Maybe they're like a beehive that's been kicked." Kella shrugged and patted Niza's good leg. "But you let others worry about that. You've still got growing up to do. The world can sort itself out. It always has."

Niza had finished the soup. Kella rolled her embroidery up and pinned it together with the needle. She tucked it into a pocket in the apron she wore before taking the bowl from Niza.

"You relax now," Kella insisted. "We'll be moving in short order. I'll get you a skin of water before we go. Hopefully you can sleep while riding. I gather you have before, but you might not have had much choice."

"I'm sure I'll manage," Niza said, smiling. "And thank you. I do really appreciate your kindness." She didn't know that the words were really enough to let Kella know how grateful she felt. Kella just nodded and smiled at her in silence before leaving the wagon.

It wasn't long before she heard people moving about with purpose outside, and orders being given to pack things up. There were a couple of times when different faces poked their heads inside the wagon she was in while depositing a box or bundle in a pile at one end. While they peered at her curiously, no one seemed to have time to stop and say hello. It was just as well, since she found herself feeling tired again after just the little bit of conversation with Kella and the activity of eating the soup. She adjusted the pillows under her back to help her lie down a little more and nestled into the blankets. She was asleep again before they had finished hitching up the horses.

She wasn't sure how long she slept, but they were still moving when she woke up again. One of the young women she'd seen before sat in the wagon next to her, reading a book. Niza remembered her as the one she'd seen darning a sock by the fire when she'd peeked out of the other wagon.

"Hi," Niza said, feeling as if her voice was soaked up in the noise of the wagon moving. Nonetheless, she must have heard, since she looked up from the book.

"Hello," the girl said. "I'm Linsa. Kella thought you might be hungry again when you woke up."

Linsa reached into a basket next to her and pulled out some bread. Niza went about sitting up again and noticed that someone had put a canteen next to her on the blankets while she'd been asleep.

"Thank you," Niza said, taking the bread Linsa offered her. She remembered to pull off small bites and eat them one at a time, chewing slowly. The bread had a slightly herbed flavor to it that was quite good.

"So where are we going?" she asked between bites.

"Oh, I don't know. I kind of prefer it that way. I let the others worry about the details. I focus on today. We're headed to a town. That works for me."

She started to ask which town, but she decided she wouldn't have heard of it anyway. She could see the other girl's point. Maybe which town it was didn't even matter.

"But," Linsa continued, "for us, towns mean trade, which is good. There are a lot of things that smaller towns don't have. For example, they won't have any silk, but some of the womenfolk'll want some. We have some, so we can trade it for something else. Probably foodstuffs. And we'll put on some sort of show or play or something. You know, entertainment. Small townsfolk tend to be the hard working sort, so they usually welcome the diversion."

"Oh," Niza said, trying to envision what such a life would mean for her. Her life had always revolved around crowded markets. Food could be taken, purses could be slipped out of pockets. She wouldn't be able to live long like that in a small town. She frowned.

"But don't worry, you won't have to do anything. You'll just rest here in the wagon unless there's someone who can help you. And we probably won't stay longer than necessary if nobody there can help you."

"So the whole caravan knows all about me?" Niza asked nervously.

"There aren't that many of us, silly," Linsa said with a giggly laugh.

"I guess," Niza said, not really knowing what to say. "I'm sorry be such a problem though. I didn't know what else to do."

"Kella says you might not have made it if you hadn't made noise when you did. Sounds like the Gods are looking out for you. If that's the case, then it wouldn't be right for us not to help you too, don't you think?"

"Oh, I really don't know if the Gods are looking out for me," Niza answered skeptically. "Maybe I just got lucky is all."

"Well, if that's the case, then let's hope your luck holds out and we can find someone who'll help you soon enough."

"How bad is it?" Niza asked, looking down at the lump in the blankets where her injured leg was lying. The image of rotting meat and maggots crossed went through her mind again and she had to set the bread down for a bit.

Linsa bit her lip and looked between her and the leg skeptically. "You sure you want to know?"

"Yeah," Niza nodded. "I've got some pretty bad ideas as it is."

"Well, I helped Kella wash the wound and all that, so I got a pretty good look," Lindsa frowned. "It's infected. And Kella says it's been infected for a while now. The blood's bad or something. She said it's even too late to take off the leg and be sure it would save you. Besides, doesn't have what she'd need to help you, even if we did take off the leg. She said that us doing that would kill you for sure. We've got to find a proper healer for you - a wizard or a priest would be best, though someone with the right supplies and skill might be able to help you if they take off the leg. They'd have to leech your blood though, and Kella doesn't think you'd survive leeching either, since you haven't got much strength right now. She's aiming to find you someone who can save the leg too."

"Why can't I feel it?" Niza asked nervously. She was starting to wonder if she wouldn't have been better off not asking in the first place, but still wanted to know.

"The wound has been festering, basically getting bigger. Like a bad spot grows on a fruit. I think it got too big and hit something important in there. I don't know all that much about it, and I'm one of the last to be able to explain it well."

Linsa shrugged, frowning apologetically. "But you're still alive."

Niza was sure Linsa meant it to be reassuring, but it wasn't enough to make her feel any better. "I guess," she managed to say.

An awkward silence started, and they both turned to look at other things. Niza looked down at her hands, not seeing much hope for a future. The wagon rolled along down the uneven road. She wanted to be able to peer out of the wagon at the passing countryside, but she couldn't move without help and didn't want to ask for help.

This is my life now, she told herself, helpless and useless and just in the way hoping for pity from strangers. A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped at her face with her sleeve before Linsa would get a chance to see it. She pushed herself down a little in her bedding and laid back to try to sleep. She couldn't stop her tears but she hoped she could hold back the sobs.

She eventually did manage to fall asleep, but began having nightmares, usually relating to her leg. In one dream, a huge man dressed as an executioner stood over her with the biggest axe she'd ever seen. It was polished so she could see her own reflection in it as he swung it down to lop off her leg.

In another, she pulled open the blankets to see a black, rotting hole in her leg. It grew larger as she watched, seeming to eat away the leg. She saw eyes inside it, watching her. When the leg was nearly gone, she realized with horror that it was starting to eat it's way up her body instead.

The last, however was the most frightening. She was on the ground, trying to scoot herself backwards with her hands and her good leg, as the other one dragged along uselessly. A group of Elar soldiers were coming towards her, with a pack of snarling dogs. Leading them was one of the Elar priests she'd seen while trying to escape. He looked at her with dark eyes and a smile that suggested he enjoyed her fear and pain.

"Did you think we'd forgotten about you, Niza?" he asked in a cold voice. "When we find you, you will know what suffering truely is."

He gave a signal to the soldiers and they released the chains they held, keeping the dogs in check. The dogs bounded forward, barking and baring their teeth. The first one sunk its teeth down into her good leg, biting well into the flesh. She screamed and threw her arms up over her face to try and fend off the rest of them as they all fell upon her, biting and clawing.

That was the dream she woke up screaming from. While the other dreams had left her awake and shaking, the dream with the Elar and the dogs was the one that seemed to repeat itself the most over the next few days' travel. While she told Kella about the dreams, she found herself unable to mention the scepter in her backpack. They had been so nice to her, she didn't want to admit to them that they had a thief in their midst. She wished she could tell them, however, as she still wanted to leave it behind. Somehow she felt sure that the Elar must still be chasing her, and that they wanted it back. She couldn't get that thought out of her mind. She kept finding herself peering towards the back of the wagon, wishing she could see out to the road behind them and reassure herself that the Elar weren't coming up behind them.

She slept more and more as time passed. She hated being awake. She needed help relieving herself, which embarrassed her to no end. Then there started being blood when she did. That got worried looking frowns from Kella, who was more often than not the one helping her by holding a pan for her to use.

Eventually the wagon stopped and Linsa poked her head in. Lately it had mostly been Kella spending time with her. Niza decided it was because Linsa was afraid to come in and find her dead body.

"We've come to a town. We're going to see who can help you. Don't give up, okay?"

Niza managed a nod, but she didn't mean it. She coughed again, weakly, and Linsa left. She had been coughing more and more. This time there was blood that came up. There was also some worrisome yellowish stuff that she couldn't identify. She wiped it on her shirt under the blanket where no one would see right away.

She cried again, and didn't wipe at the tears or at her running nose. She was too afraid to bring her hand away and see more blood. The wagon started moving again. She felt it lean into a turn. She wanted to cry harder. She wanted to shake with sobs, but she was too weak. She passed out before anyone could come in to tell her what was happening.