Page 21 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
“I’m going into the village today,” Eirwen announced. “Do we need anything?”
“I’ll write you a list.”
She saddled up the horse and cart straight after breakfast and headed into the village. It was a two hour journey, but closer than the kingdom capital, and populated almost entirely by dwarves or other folk with so little to do with politics that her sudden appearance after the princess’ untimely demise had never been questioned. They rarely talked about the capital at all, except to complain about taxes.
The first time she had visited, not long after her initial disappearance, she’d expected the gossip to be ripe with whisperings of her death, but no one had said a word. It was another three months before she plucked up the courage to ask, off-handedly, of news from the palace.
“Who cares about that place?” one person had sneered. “They don’t care about us.”
“Why do you say that?” she probed gingerly.
The seller in question spun a tale of the only time the king had ever visited. His horse had knocked over a basket of his produce. Olwen had muttered an apology, flung a coin at him, and continued on his merry way. The coin had not been nearly enough to compensate for the damage; the king had not thought to check.
Eirwen expected it to be an isolated incident, but it was not. Whenever she asked, there were stories of indifference, of carelessness, of unsettled bills from the palace or unanswered petitions. Too many to offer excuses for.
It took her a long time to understand that someone could be a good father, and a poor king. When she finally spoke of her sadness to the dwarves, they did their best to console her. Merry and Garnet said they were sure some of the stories were exaggerations. Wren and Oakely told her it didn’t matter. Only Onyx’s words offered any real solace.
“Some folk weren’t built for politics,” he said. “Doesn’t make ‘em bad people, necessarily. Just makes them bad leaders.” He reached out, as if to pat her head, but drew back his hand at the last minute. “If he was a good father to you, lass, that matters more than anything else.”
Eirwen appreciated his words, although she would lose sleep years later wondering if it wouldn’t have been better for everyone else if he’d been a great king and a terrible father.
Either way, she never asked for news from the capital now.
She hadn’t been to the village in weeks. The price of flour and grain had gone up again, unsurprisingly, but she was able to afford it with the loot from yesterday’s excursion. At least it hadn’t been a completely wasted journey.
She bought some more supplies for Oakley, who was running out of some of the rarer ingredients he couldn’t grow himself. She picked up some more fabric and thread too; her supplies were running low. With a little left over, she purchased a length of ribbon for Ivy and a new buckle for Juniper. Onyx would complain that she spoiled them, but he liked to see them happy as much as she did. He was fooling no one.
Returning after midday, she spent a lazy afternoon in the grove of apple trees behind the cottage, pretending to pick apples but mostly just eating them, before helping Garnet with the dinner while the twins folded laundry.
Merry and Oakley trekked in shortly before dinner, and the table was set.
“Anyone seen Wren?” Eirwen asked.
There was a wave of shaking heads, but no one seemed worried. Wren kept to her own time and could disappear for days on end. Eirwen set aside a plate for her for later.
Before she could take her seat, there was a hollering from outside.
Oakley and Merry bolted from their seats while Onyx grappled for his cane. Eirwen was first out the door. Wren was standing in the yard, faintly illuminated by the glow of the cottage, panting and wheezing.
“Wren! What happened?” Oakley grabbed her shoulders, checking for any injuries.
“I’m fine,” she coughed. “But I accidentally shot someone. I tried to drag him back, but after a mile, even I was getting tired. Why are humans so unnecessarily tall?”
“Human?” Eirwen frowned, as Wren rushed out instructions of where she’d left her victim. Merry and Oakley went to grab the cart.
“Yeah, human.”
“What did he look like?”
Wren shrugged. “All you humans look the same to me.”
“Wren!”
“Oh, fine! It was getting pretty dark, but I guess he was pale and black-haired.”
In Aberthor, that didn’t really narrow it down, but a cold feeling gripped her. “Did he… did he say anything to you?”
“I mean, he complained a lot about being shot, and then asked if I’d seen any black-haired human girls.”
