It was her, Roza did not doubt. His mother's face had not changed since the day she abandoned him and Margarida nine years past.
Klyde yanked him up but kept one hand on Roza's bindings. His mother indeed had coin on her; she offered a piece of gold to each guard. But Roza had no intention of staying. He nodded at Upton in the bushes and then turned to Klyde.
"Sorry about the arm," Roza said flatly to the guard.
Klyde made a noise of irritation. "What are you muttering ab—"
The little throwing knife caught Klyde above the elbow. He shrieked in pain as he let go of Roza. When the other guard tried to stop him, he drove his knee between the man's legs. The guard crashed to the ground, cradling his stones.
"Roza!" Ferangis shouted after him.
"That rotten—" Klyde yanked the throwing knife out of his arm and threw it on the ground. As Roza rounded the corner of the city wall and headed north, he heard Klyde bellowing at his mother. "Were you part of this ruse? Answer me, woman!"
Upton caught up to him, running out from between the trees. "You knew that woman," he said in that smooth, calm voice of his.
"It's my damnable mother," mused Roza.
"A chance encounter," said Upton, brooking no more words on the subject.
They saw the mounted guards ahead, so Upton and Roza kept low and quiet. Roza hoped Osbert and Pedrero had already escaped them.
"Where'd the bastard go?" one of the mounted men said—this one young, no older than fifteen with red-brown locks. He had a rope hanging from his saddle and on his belt, a sword and a dagger.
"I saw him go west, Fars," said the other, a man who looked to be his twin. When his companion ignored him, he said, "What? You don't trust me?"
His brother scratched his head in frustration. "Just shut up and follow—"
Out of the upper branches of a green oak tree, Pedrero leaped. He landed on the man with the rope, knocking him off his horse. Together, they wrestled in the snow, Pedrero pummeling his opponent with his fists. The other guard dismounted and drew his blade.
"Get off of him, or I'll cut you," he threatened.
Osbert, sneaking from behind, slung his chain around the guard's ankle. When Osbert pulled, he cursed loudly as he fell and dropped his sword. Osbert kicked the blade away when the man tried to reach for it. Roza and Upton came out of hiding.
The one called Fars was screaming under Pedrero's blows. "I yield!" he said, his nose bloody, "I yield, damn you." When he raised his hands in surrender, Pedrero began to tie them with the rope. On one cheek, Pedrero had a earned bleeding cut.
"You fought well," Pedrero said, smiling through reddening teeth. Fars snorted in response.
Pedrero cut the rope with a sword and began to tie up the other. "Please don't kill us," begged Fars's twin as his wrists were bound together, "I-I don't want to die."
"Shut your mouth, Fallon," spat Fars to his brother, "don't show fear."
"We just want the draught," said Roza. "A friend of ours is suffering."
"Fucking thieves," hissed Fars. He spat a bloody glob at Roza's feet. "What about our friends? Our families?"
Roza loaded his fist with four silver dents; he gave them to Fallon, who recoiled as if he expected to be struck. "This is for Zagermund," said Roza as he poured the silvers in front of Fallon, "he'll accept payment from his own neighbors, yes?"
"To be sure," mumbled Fallon, shifting uncomfortably.
Osbert took the cape of the guards and drew them over their own faces so they could not see which direction they would flee.
"This isn't good, Fars," said Fallon, his words muffled through his cape, "we're going to get a clouting for this."
"Aye, this is all your fault," snarled Fars.
"How is it, brother? Tell me."
"I-it just bloody is!"
Roza took one horse, Upton rode double on his. Osbert and Pedrero took the other. They rode back north to Gollwater, leaving the guards to their bickering. They rode as fast as they could, knowing how much Magdalynn was suffering.
At Gollwater, a cottage had been built for Roza and his party; it was a gift from Lord Frankton himself. The house even had a small yard behind it; Roza always had a talent for growing greens. Brother Calvino had always jested that the bundles the boy gathered stayed fresh longer than usual. Another brother claimed the herbs continued to grow in Roza's hands even after he plucked them.
At Gollwater, they had a home, to be sure; their days of vagrancy, Roza thought, may well be at an end.
Melissayn had explained that on that day, she was to be taken to Greater Vior. Margarida had stood before Mur Nytchall, keeping Melissayn behind her. Though she could not say it, the mursant knew what Margarida meant. She had offered herself to go in Melissayn's stead, taking Mur Nytchall's hand and clasping it on her own wrist. The steward's sister had been teaching Margarida how to write; with her knowledge, she had written and left Roza and the others a letter bidding her farewell.
For this brave act, Lord Frankton treated them well. Had Gollwater had an apothecary or the draughts, the lord may have given them as much as they needed. But Gollwater was not the wealthiest village in the middle of Roum.
As soon as he saw it,, Roza unmounted and rushed to the cottage. Osbert followed close behind with the scarlet draught. Parttio was tending Magdalynn, who laid in bed, clutching her stomach. Sweat beaded on her forehead. When she saw Osbert and Roza, she tried her hardest not to let the pain show on her face.
"The pain has weakened a little," she informed them through a forced smile, "you do not need to worry about me."
Three others had caught the same disease in their village, Roza had been told. One, who was a child of six, parished. When Magdalynn started having a fever and a pain in her belly, Roza knew he had to act quickly. Having been weakened by the putrid rose, the risk of losing her was high.
Osbert handed Roza the draught and filled a cup with water. "We know," Roza said, returning a small smile, "you are stronger than this, I know." He pulled the stopper and poured the dark red liquid of the vial into the wooden cup. Even diluted, the contents smelled bitter. "The taste is harsh, but you must finish all of it." Magdalynn nodded gently and took the cup.
The draught consisted of sinblossom root, coal laurel leaves, and black honey that had been thinned. Roza knew the ingredients by heart. Brother Calvino, the man who had taken care of Roza and his sister after their mother had forsaken them, was a wise healer. He remembered the days when he was little, running all over the garden and fetching what the brother needed. Brother Calvino would reward him with slices of candied fruit but lectured him when he got the wrong ingredients. Sometimes the brother would test Roza, asking him if he knew what herb did what. But the garden was gone now; some rebellion in Virtera reduced most of the sacred properties to ash. It was only a few days after they lost the priory when Roza and his sister fell ill The bitter potion's scent filled his head with memories.
Magdalynn took a sip. Her lips twisted, but she swallowed. She thanked them. "I already feel myself getting better," she said weakly. "I may be able to help cook tonight."
"Lord Frankton will be sending us some food from his own kitchens," assured Roza, "you don't need to worry."
"Such a kind man," Magdalynn mused quietly. The draught made her sleepy; it was the sinblossom root that did that. "Oh, now I can barely keep myself up," she said, pouting, "I have already slept all day."
"It's the potion," assured Roza, "I'll leave you to rest, but I must check your marks again, with your permission."
Magdalynn nodded her consent before shutting her eyes. Osbert, Upton, and the twins turned and left to allow Magdalynn some privacy. The door shut behind him; Roza gently lifted the sheets off her.
The marks had darkened as they now fully circled her hips like a belt of brambles. They had crawled up to her navel as well. A dark patch had begun to grow between breasts, a rare place for the putrid rose to show; the neck and hips were the most common. It was shaped like a crooked hand, fingers reaching out to stop her heart. The putrid rose was incurable; the best Roza could do was make Magdalynn comfortable with whatever draught would achieve it. Brother Calvino had once taken care of those pricked by the thorns; the men and women had been isolated in a red-painted stone building far from the priory's main house. One day, someone had left the door open and his curiosity made him enter. He wished he hadn't. All around Roza, the men and women wailed. Some laughed so hard he feared they would lose their breath. He remembered one man vividly and how he stared at him with wild eyes. Restrained, he had been, his ankles and wrists bound to tall staves hammered into the earthen floor. Roza had not known why they did that to him, and even now, he did not want to know. Calvino had rescued him from the horror. "This is their punishment for lechery," Calvino had explained to Roza as he found and led him out, "but such things I shall not explain further to a child. When you are older, I will teach you the value of pudency. But know that with sin comes suffering."
Magdalynn was fast asleep, her face peaceful. Roza took a rag and wiped the sweat off her brow. Roza did not want to see her go mad. Those eyes that shined like sapphires, that smile that never faltered though she knew what fate had for her … Roza wondered if the crooked hand would stop her heart before it could reach her wits, even if it meant an early death.
Roza let a hot tear run down one eye. "Oh Mag …" Roza wiped his cheek as he whispered to himself.
He remembered the day they left Lesser Vior together. Roza had been working for a Valynstromian pander by the name of Yonnos Hallocks; everyone called him Stag for his love of hunting the beasts. Stag had been a man in his thirties. He always kept his golden hair shining with sweet-smelling oils, and there was no one he loved more than himself. None of the beauties in his flock—his favorite girls, each one he named after a bird—fascinated him as much as his own face did in the mirror. The bards had always sung about how the best way to defeat a Valynstromian knight: you affixed a mirror to your shield and charged while he was distracted with his reflection. The man hung a dozen antlered heads on the walls of his solar; they had often watched Roza check on the flesh dealer's health. Many times had he measured his pulse, checked his piss for grains, and eased his fears when he explained his some of his unknown sufferings were truly common and temporary. All this, Roza had done for little pay; Stag was a frugal man, hiring a young healer. But that had been Roza's work; they all had their means of making coin. Pedrero earned his money at the fighting rings; Roza always treated any injuries the brawler may have received. Parttio moved meat and fish for merchants, for he had never minded the stench. Osbert found work delivering messages for an Iriaji man who called himself Asmion Ashferth. Roza did not know what Upton did to earn his coin, yet he often made the most. Margarida had worked with a Sarbesian girl who'd been with them at the time. Arlanna, was her name. She had stayed behind in Lesser Vior, taking care of the sick but wealthy old woman she and Margarida tended. Once she died, Arlanna planned to take what the dead did not need and rejoin them. To this day, Roza had not seen her yet.
Stag would sometimes ask him to check on his girls and boys. Magdalynn had been one of them.
"Perhaps it is only raven rash." Magdalynn had asked as Roza inspected the marks on her skin. She had kept her mood light, though Roza could see her lips smiled when her eyes did not. "Does it itch where the skin darkens?" Roza asked though he knew it wasn't that or the other few, more harmless diseases that she named, for that matter. Magdalynn shook her head. She had been afraid, Roza reflected, God in the Stars, she had been so afraid. But Roza never lied when it came to things such as this. He was honest when it came to ills; it would be cruel otherwise, he believed. When he told her the truth—that the putrid rose indeed corrupted her—her smile broke, and she embraced him, crying bitter tears. "I-I'm so scared," she had said through her sobs, "I beg of you, tell me that it isn't the rose. It can't be." Roza knew it would've been best to calm her with soothing words then; Brother Calvino often spoke of faith and divine mercy. But, held tightly, he found himself to be frozen in fear; all he could think about was Captain Zibastapold and how he had pulled and pushed him. The more he resisted the captain, the tighter he was held. Magdalynn had apologized for touching him and becoming lost in grief. When she had calmed herself, they went to Stag together.
The pander was not pleased; he slammed a fist against his desk, cursing a certain gang of sailors he suspected brought the disease to his pleasure house. He cared little for Magdalynn's plight; Roza was not surprised. He ordered Roza to check all his whores, but when he discharged Magdalynn and refused to let her stay in the brothel, Roza defied him. Stag did not take kindly to that; he soon wanted him out as well, despite his service as a healer. The pander would not have such a girl within his walls, not even as a floor scrubber. The pander was not alone who desired to be rid of her; the flock feared her, and the ones who had been her friends averted their eyes as she passed. Roza hated them for that, but Magdalynn herself forgave their coldness. "I've been abandoned, too," Roza had told her when they were alone outside the brothel. "but I've found friends … if you have no other family, you may join us." They had been together since, traveling from village to village, city to city.
The task of getting the draught had exhausted him; he did not expect the quest to be so difficult, to be sure. He took a nap on the floor, gathering rushes to pillow his head. A gentle knock at the door woke him. Seeing the light outside, Roza judged that he had been napping for a few hours. Magdalynn was still asleep, her chest rising and falling gently as she breathed. Roza stood up and answered the door, careful not to make any noise. It was Pedrero who knocked.
"There is a woman here to see you," he said with a stupid grin on his face. "A beauty, she is. I envy you."
Roza sighed. Followed me, did she? "I see," said Roza grimacing, "where is she?"
Pedrero frowned and cocked his head at Roza's grief. "She's in Ethan's tavern." Pedrero began to worry. "Is something amiss? Is it Mag—"
"no, no, no," said Roza, waving his hands, "she's all right. She just needs to sleep, that's all." He stepped out, shutting the door slowly behind him. "Let's see this woman," he said flatly.
Those who went to Ethan's for a drink sat outside; there was no room for guests inside his house. There was a long table on the terrace that could seat six; Roza saw his mother sitting with a raven-haired boy who was close to his own age. Ethan's daughter, a girl of eight, poured their drinks.
The girl saw the two coming and nodded a greeting. "What will you have?" She asked them shyly.
"Two," Pedrero said happily, sticking up two fingers, "ale."
"One," Roza corrected.
When Ferangis saw him, she smiled warmly. Roza did not return her joy. His mother rose from her seat; he knew she meant to embrace him.
"My little Rose—" his mother muttered as she neared. She looked at him as if he was a babe crying out for her.
Roza took a step away from her open arms as if they were venomous fangs. "Don't," hissed Roza.
Ferangis was taken aback; she closed her arms, hugging the cold air between her instead of her own son. Rebuked, she drew back and bristled. "You are not little anymore," she said by way of apology.
"Aye," said Roza coldly, "and this rose did not wither like you thought it would."
There was a silence between them. Pedrero sidled past Roza and took a seat next to the black-haired boy, who sipped his soup of boiled bread and cheese. They greeted each other awkwardly as Ethan's daughter brought Pedrero his ale.
"Is … Brother Calvino here as well?" his mother decided to ask, breaking the silence.
Roza shook his head. "He's dead." Roza frowned. "He was ill when we took the ship out of Virtera. He succumbed a day out into the sea." He remembered how they tossed the holy man's body into the sea along with a dozen more corpses.
Valeyo of Dares was his true father; a ranger of the woods, he was. His mother had fallen in love with him when she saw his dedication to the forest he protected. So dedicated was he that he rarely left it; Brother Calvino had been more a father to Roza than the stalwart forester. Roza was saddened but found himself weeping no tears when he heard of Valeyo's death at the hands of resisting poachers; his mother had wept, though, enough to make up for what her children did not shed. But it was witnessing his mother's heartbreak that had filled Roza with great sorrow instead. But that man, Roza remembered with anger, that man with the violet-dyed hair was all she wanted after father died. Her tears dried fast with him, hadn't they? Hylmalus was what Roza remembered the man's name to be; he heard his mother mutter it one night. Roza would never forget how she happily went with him on his ship of pleasure: a gaudy, gold-painted sea giant of a ship with seemingly unending revelry on board. His mother had not even looked back on the shore; she had no farewells for her children, though she thought they would be dead by nightfall.
Fera's closed her eyes and bowed her head, her face solemn. "Never had I met a man kinder and as selfless as he was."
Roza agreed. "The last of his medicines, he used on Margarida and me. There was none left for himself or his fellow brothers. He saved us." Brother Calvino had seemed to doubt his efforts and medicines when the children recovered; the God in the Stars, he believed, had sanctioned a miracle. Remembering the golden ship,, Roza gave his mother a look of revulsion. "And where were you, mother? Out there spreading your legs for some bloody sailor—"
A sudden fury washed over Fera; she laid a vicious backhand across her son's cheek. Roza stepped away from his mother, though she was instantly full of remorse for striking him.
"I forget myself," said Fera, placing a hand over her chest. "Please forgive me."
Roza's cheek reddened, warm against his hand. "There's no harm done," said Roza coldly. "This I welcome more than your embrace." His mother looked abashed, saying nothing more.
Returning to the manor with a tin bucket of water, Margarida saw her brother struck. She put the bucket down and ran to him. The girl put herself between Roza and Fera, silent but fierce.
"Margarida … " Fera whispered.
Margarida softened, becoming more confused than angry. She looked at her brother than at the strange woman who knew her name.
"This is our mother, sister," Roza said with exhaustion. Margarida only looked up at Fera, nonplussed. Roza faced his mother. "The fever had taken her voice," he explained.
His mother looked into Margarida's eyes as if to search for a mote of love. "I am craven," she said to both her children, "and I was weak to that man's tongue of silver. I should have stayed and held you two in my arms. That was all you wanted, a mother to hold you through your fear. I've carried a hatred for myself since then. But now, I know my children had lived and grown. I feel I should rejoice, but the things you both may have suffered … I had known then my sin was unforgivable. Even now, I do not expect that to change. But do not doubt that I love you and your sister."
Roza could see his mother's words were true; he saw her pain and her heartache in her eyes. It ran deeper than the day she lost his father. "You couldn't even look upon us," Roza said so faintly it was almost a whisper.
By now, half the village was watching their reunion. Upton was leaning on the corner behind the tavern; he was half-hidden yet did not try to conceal himself when Roza saw him. Must everyone know about our affairs? Roza wondered with irritation, his eyes casting over the onlookers.
"I am sorrowful," his mother said, taking back his attention, "more than you'll ever know, my son."
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