Her teeth chattered as Ettore plodded forward. They had crossed over the border a few days ago and were back to small villages that were few and far between. When Riva felt like she could brave the cold rain, she would peek out and examine the foreign land.
The far east side of the Kingdom were backed with massive mountains that took Riva’s breath away. They were still covered in snow and dotted with pine. The steep ridges and dark grey of their faces gave Riva a foreboding sense.
Angrily her stomach growled. It hadn’t been fed that day and had been protesting for nearly the entire ride. Riva was just glad she wasn’t walking. Ettore was mud spattered and just as miserable as she was. Riva had often jumped down to give him a break letting him munch on what grass and straw he could find. They never moved far when Riva walked, the mud sucked at her boots, threatening to tear them from her feet.
So mostly they just took frequent breaks.
Riva had been forced to purchase much of her equipment from farm folk; Raj hadn’t realized how different the climate was in Sealidan. They were quiet and generally unhelpful, but when they saw the gold that she carried, their eyes would widen with greed. It hurt Riva to see them at the mercy of a chunk of metal. Every farm she passed looked rundown and on the verge of falling apart. The people looked no better. Despite being growers of food, their faces were taunt and bodies were thin.
Light shone ahead and Ettore’s ears turned towards the sounds of an inn. Relief spread through Riva as she imagined a warm bath, food and clean sheets. She moaned softly just thinking about it, rubbing her sore bum and legs. She rummaged through her purse and her heart sank. There were only a few silvers and coppers left and she needed to feed Ettore first and foremost.
Frowning in concentration, Riva drew a quick map in her head. Carefully calculating how long it would take to reach the capital and how much money she would need to feed both Ettore and her.
Even if she spread it thin, they had nowhere near enough.
Sighing deeply Riva thought, I shouldn’t have given them so many gold pieces. Silver would have been plenty. She smiled, recalling their faces and shook her head. She didn’t regret it. There were other sources of food she could pull from.
Ettore came to a stop in front of the bright inn and Riva dismounted wearily. The horse kept his head down, exhausted. While the warmth of the inn called to her, Riva knew she had to see to him. Gently she led him to the little stable that protruded from the main building.
A boy was already there, seeing to several other horses. “I’ll take ‘im, sir.” The boy piped up, looking up from his work.
Riva smiled finding it amusing rather than insulting that he saw her as a man. It was dark and she still hadn’t pulled down her hood. Ushering Ettore into a free stall, she answered. “No, but thank you. I’ll see to him myself.”
The boy bobbed his head. “Sorry, miss. I thought you was a man.”
“An easy mistake. What is your name?”
“Thomas, miss. Though mos’ call me Tom.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tom. This here is Ettore and I am Riva. Is your master in?” She saw no reason to changer her name, it was simply an absurd idea for the Princess to be in enemy territory by herself.
“Yes miss, he’s inside seeing to guests.”
“Thank you, Tom.” Riva caught the bridle as Ettore spat it into her hand. He worked his jaw, getting used to the feeling of freedom. Riva moved to the saddle and began undoing the straps. With a mighty heave she pulled it from his back and set it on the side of the stall. Then she stripped the blanket and her pack as well. “Where are your combs and things?”
Tom gestured to the back of the stable. Riva found a bucket and went to the well she had seen outside. After getting water she began to wash off the mud on Ettore legs. It took several trips, but Riva wanted him clean and comfortable. She checked his hooves for loose shoes and dirt. Taking her belt knife she picked the mud and stones from them and began to rub him down. Then taking one of the larger blankets stashed in the back of the stable, she threw it over him knowing it would be a cold night.
“Will you see he’s well fed and watered?” She asked Tom only looking up after she’d completed her little ritual.
Tom was leaning on one of the stall walls watching her in confusion. “Course, miss.” He mumbled with his habitual bob. As he straightened he spoke. “Ye’re prob’ly the oddest lady I seen yet. Meanin’ no offence.”
“None taken.” She patted Ettore. “He’s an old friend, that’s all.” She stretched and let out a great sigh. “Now it’s my turn to get clean.”
Tom grinned. “Aye, miss. Ye smell of horse.”
Her eyebrow twitched up in response. “And what do you think you smell like, exactly?”
He just shook his head and returned to the horses.
The inn was warm and loud. One corner was filled with men that were loudly draining their sorrows in ale. She spotted what must have been the Master of the house, seeing to some finely dressed officials. Other than that there were only a few customers here and there, quietly eating. With her pack in one hand, Riva moved to the bar. A woman with defined crows feet, wispy blond pulled in a bun and a small towel of authority that constantly roved over the counter and into mugs met her. “What can I do ye for?”
“One room and a meal, please.”
“How about a warm bath?”
Riva ached to sink into a hot bath... but knew that she had to make her money last. “No, thank you.”
The wiry woman in front of her seemed to read her thoughts. “A warm bath would do yeh good. It’ll be a cold night.” She was talking with indifference, but Riva could see a glint in her eye.
A thought struck Riva. “What if I make you a deal?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “What kinda deal?”
Riva jerked a thumb to the room. “I’ll sing for my supper and pay for the bath.”
“Bah, how do I know ye’re any good?”
“Fair point, I’ll sing one song for your good faith. Come now, with such an important official here it would leave a good impression on your name.” Riva leaned in conspiratorially, seeing the woman chew her lip in concentration. “Do we have a deal?”
The woman shrugged. “Deal.”
Riva grinned. “Wonderful, how much do I owe you?”
“Two silver.” Riva made a show of frowning and grumbling at the price, but didn’t try to barter any further. She could smell the food in the kitchen and was sure her money was well worth it. The woman’s hands closed over the two pieces and flashed them out of existence. “I’ll show ye to yer room.”
The room was small but comfortable. A small cot in the corner with fresh straw and a clean blanket. A small table with a basin and pitcher was in the corner. Clean. Simple.
“We’ll have yer bath up in a bit.”
Riva nodded and put her pack down by the cot, she shed her cloak and ran her fingers through her wet hair, trying to get it into some kind of order. She pulled out a wrinkled shirt, it was damp, but not soaking. Throwing it on, she sighed inwardly. There was nothing else she could do for her appearance.
She followed the little woman down and stood before the fire, feeling the warmth and reveling in it. Steam rose from her soaked trousers and boots, she watched it flow and heard a soft thud behind her. Turning she saw that her dinner had arrived. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day. Thanking the woman, who must have been the innkeeper’s wife, Riva sat and began to inhale the thin soup and hard bread.
It disappeared too quickly, Riva let out a breath of satisfaction and stretched her cold muscles. Taking a quick swig from her glass, she found it to be a spicy mead. It soothed her scalding tongue and settled into her stomach quickly.
It had to be the best meal she had ever had.
The woman glared at her and Riva realized she was expecting her to sing. Riva pursed her lips, she’d eaten the food before she had sung for the woman’s goodwill. Embarrassed Riva stood before the fire and without introduction launched into a ballad about the old heroes and their adventures. It was one of her old favorites and something all of these people could appreciate.
Her voice was still cold and rough from disuse, but it was a simple song with an easy range and her voice quickly remembered what it was like to sing.
Riva remembered what it was like to sing, to really sing, to let loose and let your heart soar with the words and notes. After the ballad, Riva switched to a song she had heard in the desert, wanting a variety. Then she moved into a stirring dance song. She had gotten the drunkards attention then, they stood and pounded their feet acting as the drum. Whooping and swinging each other around, they danced. Riva struggled not to laugh and forced her voice into a stronger projection to overcome the noise. On the ending verse the men sang with her in their loud brawling voices and pulled one of the serving girls into the dance.
Riva laughed aloud as the song ended and was about to start another when the Master came forward with a fiddle. “I can play if ye like.” Riva smiled and welcomed him. Quickly they decided on a song and his bow flew across the strings madly. For most of the night, Riva sang and sang. Sometimes with the fiddle and sometimes not.
“Another one!”
“No, a love song.” a second voice called out insistantly.
Riva nodded, voice tiring and sang the same aria she had when she had first met Glen. Tears tricked down her cheeks and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. The haunting melody rose and fell and Riva put her heart into the song.
The last note hung in the air and the room was silent.
Voice on the verge of exhaustion, Riva bowed signaling the end of her performance.
Several of the raucous men in the corner called out their disapproval.
Riva smiled, pleased to have entertained them to such a degree. She touched her throat and swallowed. “I can’t sing anymore. My voice will give out.”
“Master get us another mug of ale! We mustn’t have our lady parched!” One of the men yelled. God’s but he could be loud.
The Master put down his fiddle and went to the bar. Riva gripped his arm as he went by. “No, please, mead will be fine. Why don’t you continue to play?”
He guffawed, “Me? I know a couple tunes and a dance here or there, but I don’t know ‘em fancy songs. Yer voice hid all my muddlings anyway.”
Too tired to argue further, Riva let him go and gratefully accepted the mead when he returned. Raising her glass to the men in the corner she downed her mug, soothing her tired throat.
“Kolo’s Sorrow. Am I right?” A high voice asked.
Riva finished her glass and turned to see the official standing near her. He gestured to the seat next to her. “May I?”
She nodded and he sat. “How do you know an Alstearian opera?” She asked.
“I could ask you the same question, you’ve clearly been trained, however.” He took a small sip from his own glass. “Didn’t think there were many bards left.”
Ah... He thought she was a musician. “There aren’t.” She answered truthfully.
“Where did you train?”
Riva bit the inside of her cheek. She had forgotten that she was in Sealidan and that there were people here who could recognize her for what she was because of her education. Riva racked her mind but could think of any schools that taught music. She could either bluff her way out or tell the truth.
Looking at the man, she decided to risk it. “In Alsteare. It’s not something that I like to... announce.”
“Hmm, I suspected a much, your Alstearian accent is impeccable. As is your desert accent... Where did you ever learn to speak the nomad’s language?”
Riva let a wry grin flicker across her face. “I spent some time with them recently. You tend to pick things up pretty quickly around that kind of group.”
The little man raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like there is a story behind those words. You’ll have to promise to tell me it sometime.”
A frown stole across her face. “Sometime? What are you hinting at, sire?” She had to remind herself to speak formally with the official.
His own little smile spread slowly and he leaned back and put his hands together with his fingers spread apart. “I have a little proposition for you.”
“Yes?” Don’t tell me you want me to be a spy. Don’t tell me you want me to be a spy!
“I want you... to sing in the King’s Court.”
Riva had just taken another drink to hide her anxiousness, at his words she spewed it across the table and began coughing and hacking. “You what?!”
His smile spread further. “I want you to sing at the King’s Court. You see, I happen to be a composer. One that was hired by the King to create music that keeps his court members entertained and attentive. I arrange many pieces for his banquets and other formalities. Do you see? If you came with me, you would no longer be singing at inns and wherever you can find work. You would have a steady job, would be well fed and housed in the palace itself.”
Riva could not believe her luck. Never before had she believed that the gods watched her and cared for her. Now she knew, they were watching her now, guiding her path. Just as she was about of run out of money... Ha! She would be inside the palace. If she was careful she could find Glen and maybe get him out-
Her mind was miles away when the thin man asked. “Well? What do you say?”
Her eyes darted to his and she grinned. “How can I say no to such an offer?”
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