“I have to go,” Leesha said. “It’s too much for Vika and Darsy to handle alone.”
Jizell nodded. “Rojer seems to think he’s taking you,” she said.
“Well he’s not,” Leesha said. “I’m hiring a Messenger.”
“He’s been packing his things all morning,” Jizell said.
“He’s barely healed,” Leesha said.
“Bah!” Jizell said. “It’s near three moons. I haven’t seen him use his cane all morning. I think it’s been nothing more than a reason to be around you for some time.”
Leesha’s eyes bulged. “You think that Rojer …?”
Jizell shrugged. “I’m just saying, it isn’t every day a man comes along who’ll brave corelings for your sake.”
“Jizell, I’m old enough to be his mother!” Leesha said.
“Bah!” Jizell scoffed. “You’re only twenty-seven, and Rojer says he’s twenty.”
“Rojer says a lot of things that aren’t so,” Leesha said.
Jizell shrugged again.
“You say you’re nothing like my mum,” Leesha said, “but you both find a way to turn every tragedy into a discussion about my love life.”
Jizell opened her mouth to reply, but Leesha held up a hand to stay her. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I have a Messenger to hire.” She left the kitchen in a fume, and Rojer, listening at the door, barely managed to get out of her way and out of sight.
Between her father’s arrangements and her earnings from Jizell, Leesha was able to acquire a promissory note from the Duke’s Bank for one hundred fifty Milnese suns. It was a sum beyond the dreams of Angierian peasantry, but Messengers didn’t risk their lives for klats. She’d hoped it would be enough, but Rojer’s words proved prophetic, or a curse.
Spring trade was on in full, and even the worst Messengers had assignments. Skot was out of the city, and the secretary at the Messengers’ Guild flat-out refused to help her. The best they could offer was next week’s man south, a full six days away.
“I could walk there in that time!” she shouted at the clerk.
“Then I suggest you get started,” the man said dryly.
Leesha bit her tongue and stomped off. She thought she would lose her mind if she had to wait a week to leave. If her father died in that week …
“Leesha?” a voice called. She stopped short, turning slowly.
“It is you!” Marick called, striding up to her with his arms outspread. “I didn’t realize you were still in the city!” Shocked, Leesha let him embrace her.
“What are you doing in the guildhouse?” Marick asked, backing up to eye her appreciatively. He was still handsome, with his wolf eyes.
“I need an escort to take me back to Cutter’s Hollow,” she said. “There’s a flux sweeping the town, and they need my help.”
“I could take you, I suppose,” Marick said. “I’ll need to call a favor to cover my run to Riverbridge tomorrow, but that should be easy enough.”
“I have money,” Leesha said.
“You know I don’t take money for escort work,” Marick said, leering at her as he swept in close. “There’s only one payment that interests me.” His hand reached around to squeeze her buttock, and Leesha resisted the urge to pull away. She thought of the people that needed her, and more, she thought of what Jizell had said about flowers no one saw. Perhaps it was the Creator’s plan that she should meet Marick this day. She swallowed hard and nodded at him.
Marick swept Leesha into a shadowed alcove off the main hall. He pushed her against the wall behind a wooden statue and kissed her deeply. After a moment, she returned the kiss, putting her arms around his shoulders, his tongue warm in her mouth.
“I won’t have that problem this time,” Marick promised, taking her hand and placing it on his rigid manhood.
Leesha smiled timidly. “I could come to your inn before dark,” she said. “We could … spend the night, and leave in the morning.”
Marick looked from side to side, and shook his head. He pushed her against the wall again, reaching down with one hand to unbuckle his belt. “I’ve waited for this too long,” he grunted. “I’m ready now, and I’m not letting it get away!”
“I’m not doing it in a hallway!” Leesha hissed, pushing him back. “Someone will see!”
“No one will see,” Marick said, pressing in and kissing her again. He produced his stiff member, and started pulling up her skirts. “You’re here, like magic,” he said, “and this time, so am I. What more could you want?”
“Privacy?” Leesha asked. “A bed? A pair of candles? Anything!”
“A Jongleur singing outside the window?” Marick mocked, his fingers probing between her legs to find her opening. “You sound like a virgin.”
“I am a virgin!” Leesha hissed.
Marick pulled away, his erection still in his hand, and looked at her wryly. “Everyone in Cutter’s Hollow knows you stuck that ape Gared a dozen times at least,” he said. “Are you still lying about it after all this time?”
Leesha scowled and drove her knee hard into his crotch, storming out of the guildhouse while Marick was still groaning on the ground.
“No one would take you?” Rojer asked that night.
“No one I wouldn’t have to bed in exchange,” Leesha grunted, leaving out that she had indeed been willing to go that far. Even now, she worried that she’d made a huge mistake. Part of her wished she had just let Marick have his way, but even if Jizell was right and her maidenhead wasn’t the most precious thing in all the world, it was surely worth more than that.
She scrunched up her eyes too late, only serving to squeeze out the tears she sought to prevent. Rojer touched her face, and she looked at him. He smiled and reached out, producing a brightly colored handkerchief as if from her ear. She laughed in spite of herself, and took the kerchief to dry her eyes.
“I could still take you,” he said. “I walked all the way from here to Shepherd’s Dale. If I can do that, I can get you to Cutter’s Hollow.”
“Truly?” Leesha asked, sniffing. “That’s not just one of your Jak Scaletongue stories, like being able to charm corelings with your fiddle?”
“Truly,” Rojer said.
“Why would you do that for me?” Leesha asked.
Rojer smiled, taking her hand in his crippled one. “We’re survivors, aren’t we?” he asked. “Someone once told me that survivors have to look out for one another.”
Leesha sobbed, and hugged him.
Am I going mad? Rojer asked himself as they left the gates of Angiers behind. Leesha had purchased a horse for the trip, but Rojer had no riding experience, and Leesha little more. He sat behind her as she guided the beast at a pace barely faster than they could walk.
Even then, the horse jarred his stiff legs painfully, but Rojer did not complain. If he said anything before they were out of sight of the city, Leesha would make them turn back.
Which is what you should do anyway, he thought. You’re a Jongleur, not a Messenger.
But Leesha needed him, and he knew from the first time he saw her that he could never refuse her anything. He knew she saw him as a child, but that would change when he brought her home. She would see there was more to him; that he could take care of himself, and her as well.
And what was there for him in Angiers, anyway? Jaycob was gone, and the guild likely thought he was dead, as well, which was probably for the best. “If you go to the guard, it’s you they’ll hang,” Jasin had said, but Rojer was smart enough to know that if Goldentone ever learned he was alive, he would never get the chance to tell tales.
He looked at the road ahead, though, and his gut clenched. Like Cricket Run, Farmer’s Stump was just a day away on horseback, but Cutter’s Hollow was much farther, perhaps four nights even with the horse. Rojer had never spent more than two nights outside, and that just the once. Arrick’s death flashed in his mind. Could he handle losing Leesha, too?