Nico Morel
NICO LEFT THE LITTLE HOUSE behind the inn of Ville
Paisli a few turns of the glass before dawn, having tied up his
clothes into a roll he carried on his back and snatching a loaf of
bread from the kitchen. He stroked the dogs, who were wondering why
someone was up so early, calming them so they wouldn’t bark when he
slipped the latch on the rear door and slipped out. He hurried
along the road from the village in the dim light of false dawn,
jumping into the shadows along the roadside at any noise. By the
time the sun had eased itself over the horizon to touch the clouds
in the east with fire, he was well away from the
village.
He hoped his matarh
would understand and not cry too much. But if he could find Talis
and tell him what things were like in Ville Paisli, then Talis
would come back with him and everything would be fine. All he had
to do was find Talis, who loved his matarh—he’d be as angry as Nico
was at what they were saying and with his magic, well, he could
make them stop.
Talis had told him
that Ville Paisli was only about a league and a half from
Nessantico. Nico half-trotted along the rutted dirt lane that was
the Avi a’Nostrosei; if he could get to the village of Certendi,
then he could lose anyone pursuing him. They’d expect him to follow
the Avi a’Nostrosei into Nessantico, but he’d take the Avi
a’Certendi instead, which jogged off southeast to enter Nessantico
nearer the banks of the A’Sele. It was a longer road, but maybe
they wouldn’t be looking for him there.
Nico watched
carefully over his shoulder as he fled for anyone riding fast from
behind. He could see the thatch-and-slate roofs of Certendi ahead
of him when he noticed a smear of dust rising from behind a stand
of cypress trees beyond a slow bend in the Avi. He scurried off the
road and into a field of long-beans, crouching down in the thick
leaves. It was good he’d done so, since the horse and rider soon
appeared: it was Onczio Bayard, looking awkward and uncomfortable
atop a draft horse, his eyes focused on the road in front of him.
He let his onczio plod along the avenue until he vanished around
the next turn.
Let Onczio Bayard
look all he wanted in Certendi, then. Nico would cut around to the
south through the farm fields and find the Avi a’Certendi where it
emerged from the village.
He walked on, moving
between the fields. Perhaps a turn of the glass later, maybe more,
he found what he assumed was the Avi a’Certendi—a well-rutted dirt
road, mostly clear of grass and weeds. He trudged on, munching on
the bread and stopping to get a drink occasionally from one of the
numerous creeks that were flowing toward the A’Sele.
By late afternoon,
his feet were aching and sore, with blisters erupting wherever his
skin touched his boots. The bottoms of his feet were bruised from
the stones he’d stepped on. He shuffled more than walked, more
tired than he’d ever been in his life and wishing he had another
loaf of bread. But he was finally walking among the clustered
houses around Nessantico’s River Market. He was home and now he
could find Talis. Clutching the roll of clothes tightly, he scanned
the market for Uly, the seller who knew Talis. But the space where
Uly’s stall had been set up a few weeks ago was vacant, the cloth
awning gone and a few half-broken tables the only remnant. Nico
limped over to the old woman selling peppers and corn next to the
space, grimacing and wanting nothing more than to sit down and
rest. “Do you know where Uly is?” he asked wearily, and the woman
shrugged. She waved her hand at a fly that landed on her
nose.
“Can’t say. Man’s
been gone for a hand of days now. Good riddance, too—just laughed
when the Calls came and people said their prayers. And those
horrible scars.”
“Where did he
go?”
“Do I look like his
matarh?” She glared at him. “Go away. You’re keeping away my
customers.”
Nico looked up and
down the market; there were only a few people there and none were
near the stall. “I really need to know,” he told her.
She sniffed and
ignored him, arranging the peppers in their boxes and shooing away
flies. “Please,” Nico said. “I have to talk to him.”
Silence. She moved a
pepper from the top of the box to the bottom.
Nico could feel
himself getting angry and frustrated. It felt chilly inside, like
the evening breeze. “Hey!” Nico hollered at her.
She scowled at him.
“Go away or I’ll call for the utilino, you little pest, and tell
him you were trying to steal my produce. Go on! Away with you!” She
waved at him as if he were one of the flies.
The irritation rose
higher in him, and his throat felt like it did when he had one of
the spicy-hot dishes Talis sometimes made. There were words that
wanted to come out, and his hands made motions on their own. The
old woman stared at him as if he were having some kind of fit, her
eyes widening as if fascinated. The words came boiling out and Nico
made a grasping motion with his hands. The woman suddenly clutched
at her throat with a choking cry. She seemed to be trying to draw
in a breath, her face turning redder, as Nico tightened his fists.
“Stop!” He could barely make out the word, but Nico let his fist
relax and the woman nearly fell, taking a deep, loud
breath.
“Tell me!” Nico said,
and she stared at him with fear in her eyes, her hands up as if to
ward off a fist.
“I hear he might be
over at Oldtown Market now—” the old woman said, all in a rush.
“That’s what I heard, anyway, and . . .”
But Nico was already
moving away, no longer listening.
He was trembling, and
he felt far more tired now than he had a moment ago. He was scared
as well. Talis would be mad, and so would
Matarh. You could have hurt her. He wouldn’t do that again,
he told himself. He wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t dare. The
cold anger frightened him too much.
He felt like
sleeping, but he couldn’t. It took him until Third Call to find the
Avia’Parete, half-lost in the cluster of small, twisting lanes
around the market and moving slowly on his aching feet. He stopped
there, leaning against a building, to bow his head and say the
evening prayer to Cénzi with the crowds near the Pontica Kralji. He
sat down . . .
. . . and lifted his
head with a start, realizing that he’d fallen asleep. Across the
bridge, he could see the light-téni just beginning to light the
famous city lamps in front of the Grande Palais—a scene that would
be happening simultaneously all along the great length of the Avi.
With a sigh, Nico pushed himself up and plunged back into the
crowds, heading northward into the depths of Oldtown, looking for a
familiar side street, one that might lead him home.
He didn’t know how he
would find Talis in the huge city, but right now all Nico wanted
was to rest his aching, exhausted feet somewhere familiar, to fall
asleep somewhere safe. He could go to Oldtown Market tomorrow and
see if Uly was there. He limped toward home—their old house. It was
the only place he could think of to go.
The trip seemed to
take forever. He had to sit and rest three times, almost crying
from the pain in his feet, forcing himself to keep his eyes open so
he didn’t fall asleep again, and each time it was harder to force
himself to stand up again. He wanted to rip the boots from his
feet, but he was afraid of what he might see if he did that. But at
last he walked down the lane where Talis had been attacked by the
Numetodo man, and turned the corner that led toward his house. He
began to see buildings and faces that were familiar. He was nearly
there.
“Nico!”
He heard the voice
calling his name and he turned. A woman waved at him and hurried
over toward him, but she was no one he recognized. Her face was
lined and tired-looking, as if she were as exhausted as he was, and
she seemed older than the fall of hair around her
shoulders.
“Who are
you?”
“My name’s Varina,”
she told him. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Did Talis . . . ?”
he began, then stopped, biting his lower lip. Talis wouldn’t want
him talking to someone he didn’t know.
“Talis?” the woman
said. Her chin lifted. “Ah, yes. Talis.” She crouched down in front
of him. He thought she had kind eyes, eyes that again seemed
younger than the lined face. Her fingers lightly stroked his
cheek—the way Matarh sometimes did. The gesture made him want to
cry. “You were limping badly just now. You look terribly tired,
Nico, and look, you’re covered with dust.” Concern creased the
lines of her forehead as she tilted her head to the side. “Are you
hungry?”
He nodded. “Yes,” he
said simply.
She hugged him
tightly, and he relaxed into her arms. “Come with me, Nico,” she
said, rising to her feet again. “I’ll get us a carriage, and we’ll
get you some food and let you rest. Then we’ll see if we can find
Talis for you, eh?” She held out her hand to him.
He took the offered
hand, and she closed her fingers around his. Together, they walked
back toward the Avi a’Parete.