The pale bluffs of Asgoph come into view on the morning of the tenth day. And it’s a gloomy morning, with a low bank of dark clouds stretching across the horizon, leaving a margin of gray sky between the clouds and the cliffs. We’ve taken Posca’s advice, let him steer us around to the west side of the island to find somewhere remote for our supply stop. Gredder and I play lookout at the moment, our eyes fixed on the rocky coast as it slides by on our port side.

The old man holds a spyglass over one eye, the other eye shut, his mouth twisted into a frown as the wind whips his hair and beard around. He’s at it for nearly an hour when, finally, he snaps his fingers and points at a spot on the shore.

“Aha! There!”

I lean over the rail a little and squint. I think I can make out a cluster of dwellings built around a natural cove, twenty or so, and there are four piers reaching out into the water.

“Looks like a fishing village to me,” I say.

“Just what we were looking for,” says Gredder. “Let’s hope they’re friendly to travelers.”

I shout the good news to Posca, who steers us hard to port right away, barking at his men to begin taking in sail at the same time. The village, which at first was a collection of dots on the horizon, grows more distinct as we close in. Cottages with thatched roofs and timber frames. Larger dwellings on the perimeter, adjacent to squared off plots of farmland. A few small fishing vessels sit at port, and though we’re not the largest ship in the world by far, we dwarf them. It’ll be a tight fit at this pier.

But Posca manages. With surprisingly deft steering, he maneuvers The Dove into the cove and gently turns it port-side just as we’re floating up to the end of the pier, all without disturbing any of the other craft. This place smells especially fishy, though I’m guessing the reason for that is the large curing house right by the docks.

This village appears to be giving us the same sort of welcome we received in Kellheim. A lot of gawking and muttering. It’s early but there are already many villagers out and about, and everyone who happens to see us pauses for a moment to look out at the big Ecean ship, confused. They aren’t as nicely dressed as the Norgardians, though. There’s a lot of plain canvas and sackcloth being worn, and none of it looks new.

“Humble folk,” says Gredder.

“Better than arrogant folk,” I say.

He chuckles, and turns to smirk at me while he’s stowing his spyglass in a pouch on his belt. “Perhaps. But humble sometimes comes with ignorant, closed-minded, xenophobic. And a few more adjectives like it, probably.”

All I can do is shrug. “We’re only here to buy supplies. Ignorant people still like coin, don’t they?”

“Depends on how ignorant they are.”

Posca’s sailors throw out the mooring lines and lower the gangplank, which I take as my cue to head back into our cabin to fetch Arcadia. When I swing the door open, I find her sitting cross-legged on our bed, Jhekata’s Compendium open in her lap. She’s had her nose in that thing the entire voyage, pausing only to eat and sleep.

I wish she’d spent more of that time with me, but it’s better than watching her agonize over what happened in Kellheim.

“We’re here,” I say.

She nods, marks her page and sets the book aside. Then she gets up and comes over to me, slipping her arms around my waist for a brief hug. I look down at her afterward, searching her expression for a clue as to how she’s feeling, and my answer is a small smile.

“I’m okay,” she says.

I’m not certain I believe that, but I nod and smile back anyway. We share a quick kiss before letting each other go, and together we emerge from the cabin to join Posca and Gredder down below on the docks. It looks like someone’s already come out to greet us, a young man with sandy hair and blue eyes standing with them on the pier. He looks past Posca at us as we come down the gangplank, his eyes widening a bit.

Heh. Being attractive is fun sometimes.

Posca glances over his shoulder when he notices the man look past him. He grins when he sees us. “Ah, there they are. This young fellow’s agreed to do business with us.”

He turns back to the man, stepping aside for us with a little bow. “May I present Arcadia the Sorceress, and her companion Rekka, the Lioness of Kellheim.”

The young man’s eyebrows shoot up when he hears our titles. Then he bows to us. “Uh. Well met.”

They speak Ecean here. Thank goodness.

Arcadia smiles and bows to the young man in return. “And you are?”

He blushes. “Bram, milady.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Bram,” says Arcadia. “Did my friend Posca here tell you why we stopped at your village?”

“Aye milady, he did. Provisions. You came at a good time, we’re in the midst of our harvest.”

Gredder smiles with relief, gives us a sidelong glance. “They have a wheat field and a pig farm here. Looks like we’ll be eating more than cured fish for the next two weeks.”

“That’s very good news,” I say.

“Do your people have enough to stock our holds, and still meet your obligations?” asks Arcadia. “I have plenty of coin.”

Bram nods, looks between us a bit nervously, and I note that the blush hasn’t completely faded from his face. “I can speak to the others and arrange it all for you, but it will take some time. A day perhaps.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” says Arcadia. Then she looks past Bram at the town behind him, her eyes scanning about for a moment. “Does your village have an inn or a tavern?”

“No milady, but you’re welcome to have supper in my home if you’d like.”

The blush on his face flares up, and for once I find such a thing endearing. Evidently Arcadia does as well, because it makes her smirk and glance at me a moment. “That sounds lovely,” she says. “Rekka and I would be happy to join you for supper.”

He blinks and glances between us for a moment, confusion in his eyes. Then it appears to dawn on him. The look on his face when he realizes it is enough to make me chuckle, which doesn’t help the shade of his face much at all.

“Right! I’ll return at suppertime!”

He wheels around and hurries back to town with such haste that all four of us end up having a laugh about it.

* * * *

Bram’s home turns out to be quite comfortable, as peasant cottages go. The main room serves as both kitchen and living area, and it’s lit by the warm orange glow of a healthy hearth fire. The pleasant scent of pork and barley stew wafts toward us from the iron cauldron upon that fire, and as I look around, I can’t help but wonder if this is the sort of place Arcadia intends to create for herself, when we’re done with all this.

Apparently she’s thinking it too. She’s sitting next to me at the dinner table, a calm smile on her face. I like the way the fire lights her features. But I don’t get too caught up in admiring her just then, because someone’s coming through the door. A girl who could be Arcadia’s age, with long auburn hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and eyes as blue as Bram’s. She has a basket of bread and fruit under her arm, and there are two children at her sides, a boy and a girl of perhaps eight years old each.

The girl stops and stares at us a moment. I’m about to explain when Bram comes out of the other room with tankards for us. He too stops in his tracks, looking embarrassed.

“Ah, Lys, meet Arcadia and Rekka,” he says to her. “They’re travelers who’ve stopped in town for supplies. I invited them to supper with us.”

She blinks and arches an eyebrow, taking a moment to inspect us both. “Oh uhm, well met. I’m Lyselle. The little ones are Detton and Lannie.”

Arcadia smiles at Lyselle, then turns her gaze to Bram. “Is this your family?”

He seems to take her meaning, blushing and shaking his head a bit. “Well, yes. We’re all siblings.”

The little girl, Lannie, comes forward into the room, gazing up at me with awe in her eyes.

“Are you a lady?” she asks.

I chuckle. “Why, yes.”

“I didn’t know ladies could have muscles like that. You look stronger than a man!”

“I’m stronger than most men,” I say, with a grin.

Her eyes widen as a huge smile begins to spread across her face. And I can’t help but smile back, because of the sheer cuteness of it. She looks like she’s about to burst into a tirade of questions, but she’s cut off by Lyselle, who shooes her and her brother out of the room.

“Right, you two wash up before we eat,” she says. “And be quick about it!”

Lyselle sets her basket down in the middle of the table, before coming over to Bram to take the cups out of his hand and arrange them on the table as well, placing one each in front of Arcadia and I, then the empty spots. I notice all of a sudden that this table has six seats. An odd coincidence.

“We don’t usually see many travelers,” she says, as she fetches a dented pewter decanter from a shelf, and returns to fill our cups with some watery wine. “Where are you headed?”

“Aleria,” says Arcadia.

That raises her eyebrows, but she doesn’t seem to have any further questions about it at the moment. She’s busy getting wooden bowls from another shelf, coming over to the cauldron and filling each with that pleasant smelling stew. The little ones return as she’s setting the last of the bowls down on the table, and Bram and everyone else converge to take their seats around us.

I’m about to dig in, but I stop myself. Bram, Lyselle, Detton and Lannie all have their eyes closed and their hands clasped in front of them. I feel my face heat up a little and join them, as does Arcadia, while Bram speaks a short prayer to their gods.

Okay. Now it’s safe. Whew.

The meal is short on conversation for the first little while, but I can’t help but notice Bram glancing at Arcadia every few moments. His elder sister appears to notice it too, because she smirks at him every time she catches him. Arcadia is oblivious to the whole thing, but then again the food is distractingly good. Every now and then she closes her eyes, makes a little noise of delight as she has another spoonful of it. I’m pretty sure I’m doing the same thing.

“So you’re all siblings,” I say, when I need to take a break from eating for a moment. “Moved away from your parents, or something?”

“Mama and papa are in the heavens now,” says the little boy, Detton.

Bram and Lyselle both frown and look away awkwardly. Arcadia shoots a glare at me, and I wince a little.

“Sorry,” I say.

“It’s alright,” says Bram. “These things happen. We’ll carry on.”

But Detton isn’t done, apparently. “Now that they’re gone to heaven we have to pay the Lord money, because Papa made money fishing and the Lord is owed that money but now he can’t get it from Papa because he’s gone. And if we don’t give enough money to him he’s going to make us surfs.”

“It’s serfs!” says Lannie. “Not surfs.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Enough,” says Lyselle, in a commanding tone, and the children clam up before they can quarrel any more.

Arcadia, meanwhile, is looking at Bram. “Is that true?” she asks, a stricken expression on her face.

Bram nods, his face solemn. “Feudal relief. It’s common practice.”

“But do you have the coin to pay it?”

He frowns, but says nothing.

Now Arcadia is frowning too. She sets down her spoon, and stares into her soup bowl for a few long moments, before returning her gaze to Bram.

“I’d like to pay whatever you owe your Lord,” she says.

Bram and Lyselle both raise their eyebrows, looking astonished. Bram is the first to recover, fixing Arcadia with an incredulous look.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says. “We’ve barely made acquaintance.”

Arcadia smiles. “Well I think strangers should be kind to one another, and I have the means to help you. So will you let me?”

I glance at Lyselle then, and find her looking very nervous all of a sudden. Strange. She and Bram trade a meaningful look, before Bram puts on a strained smile of his own.

“I… Thank you. We don’t deserve such generosity.”

“Of course you do,” says Arcadia. “You’re taking good care of these little ones here. They don’t deserve serfdom, and neither do you or Lyselle.”

The children both beam smiles at her when she says that, but even that isn’t enough to wipe the worried look off of Lyselle’s face. There’s something else going on here. I don’t know what it is, but all of a sudden I feel an undercurrent of tension between Lyselle and Bram.

“Well ah, tomorrow we could go to the manor house perhaps,” says Bram, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I can introduce you and explain the situation to him. It’s a fair bit of coin, I should warn you.”

Arcadia smiles warmly, and reaches over to give him a squeeze on his hand. “It’s only money.”

Bram offers her a strained smile in return, but he doesn’t appear to have anything else to say. When the meal is done, Lyselle excuses herself to get the children ready for bed while Bran sees us out, thanking us profusely on his way.

“So, we’ll see you on the morrow?” he says, at his door.

Arcadia grins and nods. “Yes. We’ll get it all sorted out for you.”

“I really don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“Simple. Keep taking good care of those babies in there.”

Then we bid Bram farewell for the evening, and turn to walk down the dirt street toward the docks. Arcadia has a genuine smile on her face, for the first time in two weeks. I’m so grateful to see it that I let it infect me, a smile on my own face as I step in closer to bump her hip with mine.

She stumbles, laughing. “Hey!”

“You know how nice it is to see you smile?” I ask.

Her blush is immediate. She looks away, but she’s still beaming. “Sh-shut up.”