Three on the Road

The sun was already sinking behind the trees when the three travelers returned to the main road. The evening wind cooled the dust, and somewhere in the distance wagon wheels rattled over stones. Kael walked a little ahead, watching the side paths and glancing back now and then at Elowen. Her left arm was neatly bandaged and the bleeding had stopped, but she moved with obvious effort. Seren stayed beside her, offering the waterskin without asking questions and taking it back when she had finished.

“If we're fortunate,” Kael said, measuring the sun's height, “we'll reach a wayhouse before dark. Much slower, and we'll be sleeping outside.”

Elowen tried to quicken her pace, only to pull painfully at her wound. Kael noticed and shortened his stride without comment. He was accustomed to planning a journey around the slowest member of a party. Otherwise everyone might appear to be making good time until nightfall revealed that someone had been left with nothing more to give.

Beyond the forest, the road widened enough for them to walk abreast. Seren noticed a thick book protruding from Elowen's pack. Years of handling had worn its cover pale, but an ancient lamp with a burning flame was still embossed at its center. After studying it a moment, she asked, “Is that the emblem of the Order of the Sacred Lamp?”

Elowen pushed the book safely back into her bag and nodded. “It is. You recognize it?”

“I've only heard people at the church mention the order. We don't have one in Rivergate, just a small church. We helped look after the children and travelers who came through.”

“Then our work isn't so different.” Elowen sounded more at ease. “We care for the sick and receive travelers, and copy letters for people in the nearby villages. Some children come to learn their letters. It's quieter during the harvest, but in winter the place can be quite lively.”

Seren had imagined a solemn stone building, long corridors full of ancient books, and people who spoke only in hushed voices. Listening to Elowen, she realized there would also be noisy children, muddy floors, and an endless succession of ordinary chores. “It sounds busy.”

“Sometimes so busy we forget lunch.” Elowen smiled. “Most days are ordinary, though. We do what we did yesterday, until some traveler arrives and turns the day's plans upside down.”

“Not much different from being on the road,” Kael said from ahead.

“Why?” Seren asked.

“Because someone always turns your plans upside down on the road.” He delivered the observation with the seriousness of a man stating an established law. Elowen laughed first, and Seren joined her. Kael glanced back, failed to see what was funny, and resumed watching the way ahead.

After they crossed a low, grassy slope, Seren asked why Elowen had left the order. She asked softly, ready to accept silence if the question was unwelcome. Elowen did not withdraw as she had in the clearing. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder and walked for a while before answering.

“My father's cousin wrote a letter. He works in Riverport. He said things were getting busier there and hoped the order might send someone to help.”

“So the elders sent you?”

“No one made me go.” Elowen shook her head. “I grew up in the order. I never lived with my family; the order was my home. When the letter arrived, I thought about it for a long time. I even considered putting it back in a drawer and pretending I'd never seen it.” She looked down the sunlit road with a rueful smile. “I always thought I wanted to see the world. When I finally had the chance, I found I couldn't bear to leave even the tree in our courtyard.”

Seren listened closely. She too had left places she knew, and understood how much heavier a decision could feel when it was time to act on it. “What happened then?”

“One morning I woke up and felt I should go.” Elowen considered her words. “No one had persuaded me, and I wasn't suddenly free of fear. I still hated the thought of leaving. But something in me had grown quiet, and I felt I could take that step.”

Seren did not answer at once. She knew something of a certainty she could not explain. She remembered standing at the fork and choosing the forest without being able to give a reason. She had no intention of interpreting Elowen's experience for her. “That couldn't have been easy,” she said.

“It wasn't.” Elowen laughed softly. “On the day I left, I unpacked my things twice after I'd finished packing them. Everyone came to see me off. One child asked when I would come back. I had no answer, so I promised to write.”

Kael had been walking ahead as though he had not heard. Much later he said, “If you hadn't left that morning, you wouldn't have met us today.”

Elowen glanced at her injured arm. “And perhaps I wouldn't have met those men either.”

“Perhaps,” Kael agreed. “But thinking about what's already happened won't change it. Better to get through tonight first.”

His words reminded Seren of the old caretaker at the church. When strangers arrived in trouble, the first thing he did was find them hot soup and a clean bed. There would be time to hear their stories afterward. Looking at Elowen, Seren thought that people from very different places could sometimes learn the same things.

As they climbed a low rise, a thin column of smoke appeared in the distance. Kael stopped to judge its direction, satisfied himself that it came from a building rather than a temporary fire in the woods, and relaxed his hand from near his sword. A little farther on stood a wayhouse built of gray stone, roofed in dark-brown wooden shingles. An old sign by the entrance bore the carving of an oil lamp and a few rain-faded words: Rest Easy. Several horses stood tied in the yard, a merchant's wagon rested against the wall, and the ring of hammer on metal came from a shed behind the building.

“Made it,” Kael said.

Elowen slowed at the sight of the stone house. “I've been here before.”

“When?” Seren asked.

“A long time ago, traveling with people from the order. I was only a child.” Elowen studied the entrance, trying to match it to her memories. “I remember the stew was excellent.”

“Let's hope they haven't changed cooks,” Kael said solemnly.

Seren glanced at him. “Have you been thinking about food all the way here?”

“No.” He considered the question. “After walking all day, you start to pay more attention to it.”

A large yellow-brown dog lay beside the yard gate. It lifted its head when the travelers approached, swept its tail twice across the ground, then settled back down. Kael watched it as he passed. “This place is probably still fairly peaceful.”

“You can tell that too?” Seren asked.

“Look how soundly it sleeps.” He pointed to the dog's relaxed ears. “If there were trouble in this yard every night, it wouldn't be so comfortable.”

Seren was about to suggest that this might not be the most reliable test when the door opened from within. Warm air rolled out, carrying the smells of stew, fresh bread, and burning wood. Voices mingled inside, and someone laughed over a raised cup. Kael held the door for the women and crossed the threshold last. Just before entering, Elowen looked back down the road. The sun had vanished, but the lamps in the yard were being lit.