“You struck a bargain with a merchant.” Calea stared at Bron, incredulous. She had to repeat it again, just to be sure she’d understood what he said. “A merchant.”
Bron had returned to the clinic covered with sweat and an air of victory, as if he had accomplished something difficult and important by making plans without consulting her. That wasn’t how it worked. Calea should have some say in her own future, shouldn’t she? Even though in many ways she was now a nobody, at the mercy of strangers, Bron should not have treated her as such. He should have respected her at least enough to ask her permission before setting the path for both of them.
Bron, though, just nodded placidly. He didn’t understand at all, the big lump. “After several days of seeking a way to Thyrion, I am convinced that this is the best option.”
“A caravan?” she asked, letting her contempt drip out, thick and viscous. “A large group of strangers all traveling together, trying to keep from killing each other on a long and difficult journey? Whatever made you think that we would be a good fit for such a thing?”
“In fairness, most of the other travelers will know each other already,” Bron said.
Calea threw her hand up in the air, grazing the lamp above them on the wall in the patient lounge. She had been exercising and had paused here in her route around the clinic when Bron caught up with her to share his news. “Oh yes, much the better. Only we will be outsiders, then. How pleasant.” She huffed, abandoning the false cheeriness. “I repeat. What on Lomara made you think that this was a good idea?”
Bron frowned. Calea could see the gears slowly turning in his head as he struggled to come up with an argument. It was useless. He pattered on a bit about the safety of numbers, how they would be provided food, and other piddling matters. “We are going with a man who knows the way very well, so we will not get lost,” he said, and here Calea cut in.
“Yes, the way. Another reason not to tie ourselves to a caravan.” Calea’s hand clenched in a fist. “The route is around the Burnt Mountains, not through. That’s what you said, correct? We’ll be taking the main road to Thyrion and stopping at many villages along the way for other people in the caravan to connect with friends and family. Absolutely useless to us. We need to get directly to Thyrion, no delay, no diversion. We need to go through the Burnt Mountains, not around them.”
“A direct route might seem preferable, yes,” Bron said slowly. “But it will also be much more dangerous. I do not know the road. We could get lost. And while I will always do my best to protect you, if we are set upon by a large band of thieves, we might not fare well. Also, we have no way of buying a horse or anything else to help carry you. A mountain route will be very difficult for you to traverse.”
Calea’s face flushed hot at this, and Bron swayed back, aware that he had made a fatal mistake. “Do not question my ability and strength, little man. I will do what is necessary. I always do.”
“I only meant, the new prosthetics…”
Fortunately for Bron, they were interrupted by the loud clearing of a throat in the doorway to the lounge. Nyasha stood there, arms crossed, face solemn. “I can show you a path over the mountains.”
“That’s not…”
“You silly girl, you can’t…”
Both Bron and Calea started protesting in the same breath, then cut off and looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Bron was the first to recover, turning back to the girl.
“We appreciate it, Nyasha, but there’s no need for you to take on more trouble for our sake.”
“What trouble? I’d be glad to get out of this building after being shut in here for days.” Nyasha gestured toward the Burnt Mountains, visible in the expansive picture window that composed one wall of the lounge. “They’re lovely this time of year, before the heat of summer really begins and after the bitter nights of winter are behind us, and I could do with a trip.”
“Going from no guide at all to a little girl for a guide is not much of an improvement,” Calea said icily. “Bad advice is worse than none.”
Nyasha bristled visibly, puffing up like a small, angry cat. “I don’t give bad advice,” she all but hissed. “My family emigrated from Thyrion, and we’ve visited there several times. I remember the paths my papa led me on. How could I forget them? I’ll never forget anything my papa taught me.”
Calea shut her lips tight at this, no response ready. The air between her and Nyasha was still sharp-edged since the night when she had failed to offer comfort to the weeping girl but instead had cut her further. Calea did not quite regret her words–they were the truth–but she did acknowledge that she could have handled the situation better. As a young girl newly crippled by the Well, Calea had not been much receptive to harsh truths, either.
Bron sighed. “I believe you, Nyasha. I’m grateful for the offer.” Calea noticed he did not say “we.” Perhaps he was learning not to speak for Calea as well as himself. “It doesn’t change the other difficulties, though. I’m wary of traveling alone when there are so many rumors of brigands about.” He paused, wise enough not to go on.
“And you’re worried about Calea climbing a mountain with brand-new prosthetics,” the child continued for him, staring straight into Calea’s eyes as she said it.
Bron did not respond, but Calea pushed herself off the couch she’d been sitting on and snatched up her crutch. “You’re both cowards,” she spat, “hiding behind my hardship to avoid a path you fear. No. I won’t allow it. We will go to the mountains.” She turned to Bron, daring him to disagree. “The two of us will travel quickly and lightly, and we’ll avoid any danger, which I’m sure has been greatly exaggerated. We will get to Thyrion quickly and directly, and neither of us will falter. Is that clear?”
He held rigid for a moment only, then nodded. Sweat still shone on his forehead, slowly drying in the stuffy inner room, but that air of victory he had carried in with him was completely faded. “I will see to gathering provisions.”
“Good.” Calea turned to the girl. “Now, you must have sought me out for a reason. Is the new design ready for testing?”
Nyasha nodded. “I was coming to fetch you for another fitting.”
“Excellent.” Calea swept a hand toward the door. “Lead the way.”
This time, following the village girl back to the prosthetics suite, Calea made sure she kept pace with her every step of the way.
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