The Eighth Warden Bk. 03 Ch. 07-08

The merchants in the stalls hawked their wares in Eastern, a language she didn't know but had grown to recognize as she traveled north along the coast, through Nobitar, Valara, and Circle Bay. The woman closest to her was selling decorative knickknacks and cheap jewelry. Leena smiled at her, politely pretending to browse the wares before moving on.

She'd finally reached Tyrsall. It had taken weeks, walking as much as twenty or thirty miles a day, plus Traveling when she could, and she was exhausted. Her back and shoulders hurt from the pack she wore, and her feet and ankles ached worse than they did after standing up all day in the bakery.

But she'd made it, and now she had to figure out what to do next. Her magic had grown easier to use over time and she felt strong enough to try another Seeking, despite having just done one before Traveling to this spot.

Find Sarlo, she thought to herself. If he was in the city, then he was close enough that she could finally Seek him directly.

The responding ping came almost immediately. He was to the northwest, perhaps two miles from where she was standing. She could finally talk to him and the friend he'd mentioned, and see if they could teach her how to use her magic as a weapon.

But first, she had to try one more thing. Where do I need to be next to protect my brother and avenge my parents?

The twinge came from the east, and Leena froze in the middle of the street, trying not to cry in despair. This whole time, both routes had led her to Tyrsall, but now that she was here, they were sending her in different directions. She'd thought—she'd hoped—that her blood feud would send her to Sarlo, so his friend Yelena could help her master her magic. She knew Sarlo and trusted him.

But that wasn't where she was supposed to go.

She found a street leading east and followed it, not knowing where it would take her. She knew little about Tyrsall, other than the fact that it was even larger than Sanvara City. She found herself passing through a neighborhood full of elegant houses—not mansions, but obviously owned by the well-to-do. Half a mile later, she ended up in another business district, but this one didn't have market stalls. The building she was looking for was huge, but it was functional rather than fancy. It wasn't a shop, but obviously wasn't a home either. Unfortunately, the sign over the door was in Eastern, and she couldn't read it.

Checking the location she held in her mind, she realized her target wasn't the building itself but a message board that had been constructed off to the side, with a small overhang to keep rain away. An armed man stood there, looking over the weathered notices. Shaking his head and muttering, he turned and clomped away in his heavy boots.

"Don't bother," he said in trade tongue as he passed her. "They're not hiring."

Hiring? She looked more closely. The notices were all written in trade tongue, which she could read well enough to get by. Each of the notices was for a different trade caravan, indicating a starting location and an ending location, as well as the jobs they'd been hiring for at some point—drivers and guards, mostly. On each announcement, the list of jobs had been crossed out and someone had written in 'All positions filled.'

But there was one new posting down in the corner, recent enough that the paper hadn't had time to age and weather like the others.

Senshall Trading Company seeks cook for long-term expedition to Cordaea, traveling by sail and horseback. Pay is 1s 1c per day, food and lodging included. Inquire within.

Leena stared at it. The notice was posted in the exact location her Seeking had sent her. Had the magic failed? How could working as a cook and sailing across the ocean help her hunt down those responsible for her parents' deaths? Cordaea was even farther from home than Tyrsall!

Had her family figured out some way to sabotage her Seeking in order to send her away somewhere safe? No, that couldn't be it...her grandmother had begged her not to leave. Besides, while Leena had taken along one of the attackers' knives, hinting that she'd use it to track them down, she'd never actually told her family that she could Seek. As far as they knew, she was nothing more than a failed Traveler.

Give me a way to protect my brother and avenge my parents! she shouted in her mind.

Her senses pinged again, directly on the job posting itself.

Leena slumped in disappointment, then turned around and started walking in Sarlo's direction. She'd come this far; she might as well talk to him and salvage what she could of her plan.

She hadn't made it twenty steps away before she stopped and marched back, entering the trading company's office.

The man behind the counter looked up at her. "Yes?" he asked.

"Are you still hiring for the cook's job? The one going to Cordaea?"

"We don't hire women for caravans," he said promptly, but then hesitated. "Though I suppose it's not a caravan, and there are other women going along. You're Sanvari?"

"Yes."

"Do you know how to cook anything other than Sanvari food?" he asked, his lip curling up in distaste.

"I've learned northern dishes." A few, anyway, but she'd been at the boarding house in Telfort long enough to know that northern cooking and southern cooking weren't all that different, other than in the way the dishes were prepared. She hadn't done any of the cooking at the boarding house, but Sarlo had shown her how to prepare a few simple things. Buying a book of recipes would be enough to let her get by, and if she ever ran out of ideas, she could make a Sanvari dish and leave off the spices that made it taste good. Northerners liked bland food.

"You'd be gone for at least four months, likely more. You understand?"

How could being away for so long possibly help protect her brother or find her parents' killers? Was this all a mistake?

She quickly nodded before she could change her mind.

"Ever cook for twelve or thirteen people at once?"

"Yes," she said, thinking of the long days she'd spent working nonstop in the bakery. Cooking and baking weren't quite the same thing, but they weren't all that different.

"You'd be cooking over a campfire most of the time, but there and back, you'd be onboard the Peregrine, sharing the galley with the ship's cook. Done any shipboard cooking before?"

"No."

"Didn't really expect you had, but it would have been helpful."

Worried her chance was slipping away, she said, "I can bake!"

"Not much call for baking over a campfire, though I suppose the Peregrine might have an oven."

"I know how to bake bread in an iron pot over a fire, and there are flatbreads and pastries that can be made on a frying pan or griddle."

"I suppose that might be useful. You know how to ride a horse?"

"Yes," she lied. If she was supposed to take the job, she had to ensure the man didn't have any other reasons not to hire her.

"I'll send a runner to the group's quartermaster. He's the one you'll have to convince, and if you want any particular supplies, he's the one to talk to. Peregrine's shipping out tomorrow. Can you be ready?"

"That's not much time to buy supplies for that many people," Leena said.

"They're already provisioned for the first leg—they'd just about given up on finding a cook for the trip. You'll resupply at Kitish in two weeks, fresh food only, then again when you reach Nysa."

"I can leave tomorrow." It wouldn't leave her any time to visit Sarlo. That would have to wait. Now she just had to hope her Seeking wasn't sending her to the wrong place.