As the day progressed, the view from outside the train changed. It started with rolling pastures and woods and streams with the occasional airship in the distance. From there, it slowly shifted into a patchwork of scattered villages and larger towns. Finally, the scenery morphed, replacing all things green with the smoke and cobblestones and endless buildings of brick and stone at the outskirts of Lyndemar.

Iris had spent the time chatting amicably with Talan. He was an animal lover and could identify birds whirling high up in the sky with barely a glance. It also turned out that he had a passing knowledge of gardening, and they had just entered into a heated debate on the best methods for overwintering different herbs when the train began to deaccelerate. Talan leaned forward to peer out the window on Iris’s other side. He adjusted his spectacles.

“Looks like we’re getting close,” he said. “We’ll be parting ways soon.”

“Yes, I suppose we will.” Iris sighed. “It’s been quite some time since I last left Felise. I imagine that it

will be a much different experience this time, traveling alone.”

Talan stood and grabbed their bags from the overhead compartment.

“I’ve never left Felise,” he said. “And right now, I think I’ll be happy enough to never leave Lyndemar

either. I’d like to spend the rest of my life here, if I can.”

That was an odd statement. Shadwalkers were known for traveling to wherever their work called them.

“What if you don’t have enough jobs in Lyndemar?” asked Iris. Talan handed her carpet bag to her, and then pulled his water flask from his jacket, taking a long draught from it. The train shuddered to a halt, and he swayed.

“I’ll make it work,” he said. “Yesterday was supposed to be just another job until Dad surprised me with that marriage mess, and I’d rather not risk leaving Eliana again. I’m going to ask her to marry me. Today, if I can.”

Iris blinked at him. “You really are smitten with her,” she said, standing as the train compartment doors slid open. One by one, passengers began filing out. “She’s a lucky woman. How long have you known each other?”

Talan flashed her an impish grin. “Just under two weeks,” he said. Iris coughed in surprise.

“Isn’t that a bit fast?” she asked. She imagined herself requiring months – possibly even years – of

courtship before deciding if a man was worth tying herself to for the rest of her life. Perhaps his rapid infatuation was yet another reason why Talan’s father disliked this woman, but that should have been a moot point given that the elder Mr. Colt was perfectly willing to set up an arranged marriage for his

son.

“Not really,” said Talan. “Sometimes you just know when you’ve met the right person.” Iris caught a

glimpse of his smile before following him off the train. It was as if he were caught in a dream.

They disembarked, and Talan led Iris through the Lyndemar Station and out onto the street – “W Main Street,” as it happened to be called. Iris caught sight of the street name printed on a sign affixed to the top of a tall, black metal post at the street corner.

The station itself, just like Whychfeld Station, was also built of red brick. However, this building was much larger and had been made dirty with soot and smog. A paperboy stood on the corner, next to a public water pump that had been set into the side of Lyndemar Station. Motorists whirred between clopping carriages, and pedestrians dashed haphazardly across the street, adding a sense of chaos to the scene. There was quite a lot of confused noise – more than Iris typically encountered at her home near Whychfeld.

Iris’s stomach grumbled. Loudly. Or at least, loudly enough for Talan to notice. She clapped a hand over her midsection as if to silence it, but it was already too late. Talan glanced over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised.

“Hungry?”

“Yes, quite,” Iris admitted.

He unslung his rucksack and tugged out a crust of bread and some cheese, handing them to Iris. She

gratefully accepted. He pulled his silver water flask from his jacket too and made for the water pump.

“I might as well fill up while we’re here too. Are you thirsty?”

Iris swallowed her cheese and nodded. They had reached the water pump, and she realized that it was shaped like an iron lion’s head.

“Just how much water do you go through in a day?” asked Iris as Talan worked the pump and filled his flask. She had seen him drinking from the flask quite frequently. He stepped back and took yet another swig.

“No more than most people. It’s a small flask.” He offered it to her, and Iris accepted. She was parched. It was slightly warm to the touch, and very simple in its design – just a standard silver flask made of hammered metal. Iris tilted it up to her mouth to take a long swig of water.

She promptly spat it out.

“Ugh – oh, that is rancid! That is vile! What poor creature died in there?” she exclaimed, hacking and spitting and coughing all over the cobblestones. She didn’t care who saw. That water – if she could even call it that – was the most horrid liquid to ever pass her lips. The paperboy, who still stood nearby, eyed them warily and sidled away.

“I take it you’ve never had city water?” asked Talan.

“Of course I have!” insisted Iris. “This is far from my first time in Lyndemar. How come you managed to drink it just fine?”

Talan shrugged. “It’s just water,” was his only response.

Iris eyed the flask in her hand suspiciously and marched over to the water pump, tilting her head so that she could take a gulp directly from it. It was cool and only slightly metallic in taste. She straightened up.

“The water is acceptable,” she declared, now frowning down at the flask. She tipped it upside down and began aggressively dumping out its contents. “So it must be your flask. When did you last clean it?”

Talan swiped the flask from her before she could finish shaking the last droplets of water free. “Hey, careful with that – it was a gift from Eliana.”

Iris stopped short, biting her tongue. It was in poor taste for her to insult Eliana’s gift. Not that she hadn’t already done a rather thorough job of it. Her face flamed in embarrassment.

“Oh dear,” she said. “My apologies.”

She clasped her hands behind her back, grimacing slightly. Talan held the flask gently and looked at it with a strange sort of tenderness. He returned to the lion-headed pump and refilled it, took a drink and stated, “It tastes fine.”

Iris sighed. “Yes, perhaps it does,” she said. She didn’t know what had come over her, but she could have sworn that the water had tasted like a half-rotted animal. This was starting to feel slightly odd. She ducked her head and then noticed something…strange. Something that didn’t belong.

A tiny clump of herbs had been plopped on the cobblestones near her foot. It was bound together by a narrow band of thread. That certainly hadn’t been there earlier when she was retching up the rancid water. Had it come from the flask when she had dumped it out?

Iris glanced up to see if Talan had noticed it, but he had already turned away from her. A chill ran up her back. Something seemed wrong.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” said Talan. “I need to see Eliana. Can you find your way to the port from

here?”

Iris stared at him. Per Talan’s own admission, his father had a rather significant dislike of Eliana. Had this woman’s “dabbling in witchcraft” been a well-founded concern? He seemed, for the most part, in control of his own thoughts and actions. Why else would he have helped her escape from Miss Veil? But Iris was beginning to note an odd pattern that occurred between each sip that he took from that flask and his mentions of Eliana.

“Yes,” she began, slowly, “I suppose I – now hold on one moment!” A sudden thought had struck Iris. “Your father, if he is alive like you say he should be – “

“He is.”

“Yes, well, I imagine that he should be able to get a message to my own father then, correct? To notify him that I am still alive and have found my own way out of danger,” she hastily explained. She had no intention of leaving a message for her father. There was no telling if he was even still alive – a thought that she forced herself to tuck away until later. No, Iris wanted to coax Talan back to a familiar place

with familiar people who could, at the very least, confirm if he was behaving normally.

“Yes,” said Talan. His eyes had a faraway sort of look in them, as if he were only half listening.

“Very well, would you please direct me to the Shadewalker’s Guild Hall first?” said Iris.

Herbage

0 Comments