“Good. We depart at first light,” Laedron said, reading over the receipt when Marac passed it to him.
* * *
Night fell across the city, the white walls of the stone towers darkening with the setting sun, and Laedron retired to the room with Marac and Brice. He wanted to say something before Valyrie closed the door to her room, but he didn’t. Things are so delicate between us that I’d rather give her space. No, I’d like to be in her arms this last night, but I should have thought about that before I said what I did. I’ve been such an idiot.
“She’ll be all right in the end, Lae,” Marac said, plopping onto the bed, his tone making him seem almost sympathetic to Laedron’s plight. “You’d better get some sleep. We have a long way to go in a short time.”
Nodding, Laedron sat in the corner chair, hung his shirt over the back of it, grabbed a bed sheet, and closed his eyes, trying to force the remorse of his many mistakes and failures from his mind. I couldn’t help Ismerelda. I was barely a match for Gustav, and Andolis nearly killed me. I’ve driven the only woman I’ve ever loved away, and only the Creator knows if she’ll ever forgive me for that. Damned spells! Damned magic! If only I could sleep away these thoughts. He shifted his weight to get comfortable and quickly realized that if being a wizard meant never sleeping again, he wanted no part of it. He’d drive himself insane long before the usefulness of his power became apparent.
4
Laedron pulled the sheet over his bare chest, his skin prickled by the cool air. Then, his eyes shot open at the drowsy feeling. Have I slept? The inky darkness of night had dominated the landscape, and the last thing he remembered was staring out the window and watching the nightlife of Nessadene. Can it be so? Is the spell losing its power over me? Am I cured, or shall I die by its fading?
Not wanting to disturb Marac and Brice, he rested his head on the pillow. For a moment, he wondered where the pillow had come from, but the thought was fleeting. The night sky like a weight on his eyelids, Laedron once again fell asleep.
* * *
“Good morning,” Marac said. “Sleep well?”
Laedron shifted in the chair, his back strained from the position in which he’d slept. “Surprisingly I did.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing.”
“I hope so.” He scooted to the edge of the chair and put on his shirt. “If it’s not, it’s a very bad thing.”
“No need to worry about it until we know otherwise.” Marac strapped his belt about his waist.
Brice came through the door, a towel wrapped around him. “They’ve got hot water for the bath here. Down the hall, opposite the stairs.”
Laedron nodded, put his feet on the floor, then staggered through the hall, ending up at the tub. Leaning against the lip, he struggled to keep his balance; it was as if all of the energy had been leeched from his body. Looks like the sleeplessness has finally caught up with me. Oh, I can’t get atop a horse and go slogging across the countryside in this condition. Perhaps I can convince them to stay here one more night. No, I’ll have to get through it. Maybe the bath will help.
Slipping into the water, he rested his neck against the cool edge of the tub, and after a while of soaking, his muscles felt reinvigorated by the heat.
He couldn’t tell-and he didn’t really care-how long he had spent in the soothing water. But when it began to cool, he stepped out of the tub, dried himself, and dressed.
Meeting Valyrie on the way downstairs, Laedron caught the familiar scent of the inn’s breakfast foods, but he desired nothing to eat. Though he had recovered somewhat from his morning fatigue, he didn’t want to weigh himself down with a heavy meal. A handful of nuts and some fruit should suffice.
Marac and Brice, having already started their meals, greeted Lae with a nod when he reached the bottom. Valyrie apparently didn’t want to slow them down because she, like Laedron, took a few things from the fruit bowls and headed toward the door, and Laedron returned the keys to the innkeeper. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Take care on the road,” the innkeeper said, waving as Laedron exited.
Laedron turned to Marac once they all had joined him outside. “Where’s the stable?”
“Up along this road.” Marac pointed to the right. “It’s on the north end of the city.”
“Lead the way.”
* * *
Across from the stable, a rather strange, fenced compound had been built, and the area was unlike anything Laedron had ever seen. A great pile of stones sat at one end of the lot, and two mounds, one of white powder and another of blackened sand, were on the other. In the center of the heaps stood a wooden structure with unfamiliar machinery, and he could see workers mixing the ingredients and pouring the substance into carts bound for the boulevard.
“What do you make of that, Marac? Anything like a mill?”
Marac glanced at the place. “I asked the stable master about it yesterday. He said they make something called concrete there.”
“Concrete?” Laedron asked, the foreign word twisting his tongue.
“Yeah. It’s what they use instead of stone since the country hasn’t any good quarries.” Marac gestured at the nearby structures. “All of these buildings are made of the stuff. The streets, too. Everything not made of wood, anyway.”
“And it holds up?”
Brice nodded. “He said that it has to dry first, but yes. Once it’s set, it stays.”
“Marvelous.” Valyrie stared up at one of the tallest towers in the skyline, but she shied away from Laedron when she smiled, as if unwilling to share her happiness, no matter how brief.
Approaching the stable, Marac exchanged a few words with the stable hand, then the boy left and returned several times until he’d brought out four horses.
“Just a minute,” Laedron said, watching Marac mount his gelding. “I want to get some of that stuff.”
“The concrete? But why?”
“Might be useful back home if we ever get there.”
Brice stopped him. “But Sorbia’s rich with stone, Lae.”
“Stone that can be formed into any shape so easily? I think not.” Laedron walked briskly across the avenue and approached one of the men. “Could I buy some of that?”
“What?” the man asked, apparently befuddled at Laedron’s question.
“A handful of each pile. How much would it cost?”
“I don’t know.” The man arched his eyebrows and rubbed his chin. “A gold piece, I suppose.”
“For the lot?”
“Surely.”
Laedron fished out a sovereign and tossed it to the man. “Does that include a sack to carry them?”
The man nodded, collected a handful from each pile, and put the samples into separate burlap bags. “Here you are, young fellow.”
“Thanks.” Laedron returned to his friends, slipped the sacks into his saddlebag, and climbed atop his horse. “Laslo, then?”
“Yes, but do you know the way?” Marac asked.
“North, I suppose.”
“Best get a map.” Marac turned his horse so he could see the stable master. “Know where we can acquire a map, my good man? Nothing fancy, but enough to get around this country.”
“Where are you going?”
“Myr-”
“North,” Laedron said, stopping Marac. “For a while, at least. Then, west of Laslo.”
“The Ore and Timber Guild. That way. Ask for a surveyor’s sketch.”
“I’ll get it, and I’ll see what extra food I can pick up. Just meet me at the north gate,” Marac said, taking off down the boulevard.
* * *
Once Marac arrived at the gate, Laedron nodded to the others, then led them down the road. Looks like they waste few resources on the roads outside of town, he mused, observing the dirt and gravel mix beneath the horses’ hooves. Not long into the journey, he could no longer ignore the sun beating down upon his neck and his clothes moist with sweat. In the city, a constant breeze seemed to flow from the sea, between the buildings and onto the people in the streets, but such luxury was not to be had the farther inland he went.