Daughter of Mystery (Revised version)

Chapter five

Yavenna

As dawn broke, she spied the town on the hill where she'd stayed at the inn with Lord Rassten and Sharva; where she'd seen the mage with his Starstone topped staff. It felt like ten years ago rather than a few weeks.

Pulling her hood over her hair, Yavenna knocked at the door and asked for a room. She needed to sleep, and she wouldn't risk sleeping in the open. Anyway, the bacon she'd eaten for breakfast here had been really tasty. It was even worth risking a headache from the landlady's choice of hideously clashing clothes. A few minutes later the serving wench delivered the huge breakfast to her room. Cramming the hot salty food into her mouth to appease her groaning stomach, she swigged a long drink of ale, then fell almost instantly asleep, despite the indigestion pains starting to stab her now too-full belly. When she awoke, it was late afternoon and she was hungry again.

Washing quickly in the pottery bowl that stood in front of a circular mirror she stared at herself as she rubbed a rough towel across her face. Should she have asked someone to come with her?

Well, it was too late now. In a couple days she'd be back in Iscaran, and actually she was really looking forward to seeing her friend Marco and his mother. A knock on the door made her jump. She got up and opened the door.

"Good evening, Mistress. Here's your supper. My best lamb stew and freshly baked bread." She put the tray down on an old oak sideboard, and Yavenna squinted her eyes to dim the glare of the woman's bright green and red striped dress.

"You're on your own this time, then. Never forget a face, me. Well, give my regards to the other young lady, she looked like she had a kind face. Enjoy your meal, and I hope we see you again." Smiling and frowning all at the same time the woman closed the door behind her.

Yavenna ate the stew, thinking about Mal. She wished she could have stayed with him, but she had no choice, she had a duty to find out the truth, for the sake of her country, and to protect Yeroz's honour. Then, as her mind jumped back to what Mrs Cuttle had said, she began to think about Sharva as well. Her friend, her maid. Yavenna had thought Sharva had betrayed her to the mage's mother, who'd then tied her up and locked her in a room, so Yavenna had escaped on her own and left Sharva standing outside the city, looking after their horses. When Ulric discovered that Yavenna had escaped he'd thought Sharva had helped her. Sharva had died due to the violence of his questioning and Yavenna knew that nothing would ever erase the guilt she felt.

Wiping her mouth, Yavenna hoisted the pack onto her shoulders and strode out of the room. She didn't look where she was going, Sharva's face still filled her vision. She'd never know for certain whether Sharva betrayed her or not to Breanna. But one thing was for sure; she hadn't deserved to be beaten to death. The lamb curdled in her stomach. She had one or two other things she was quite desperate to do once she found out who her father was. The first was to marry Mal. And after that, she was going to find Ulric and kill him.

Yavenna pushed roughly through the sweaty, rowdy dining room. Tough if she barged into someone, at least they were alive to be barged into. Noise from the dining room followed her along the corridor as she stomped to the front door. It wasn't the only thing. Two men just about to enter the dining room, turned and lurched after her, the first one slapping a grimy hand around her waist, and pulling her towards him. "Not going are you, pretty lady? Why don't you stay and keep us company? We've got plenty of money."

Yavenna gasped in horror and spun to face him. Red eyes in a pitted, greasy face leered at her, and one of them winked. For a moment she stared at him, too shocked to react, then as his hand started to slide upwards she reached up to her pouch. His hand reached the bottom of her rib cage. What had Gradeth said? She could link to the stone's power. Poking a finger into the pouch, her other hand shot upwards to his face. As her closed fist hit his face he crashed back into the wall with a grunt, then slid down the wall to crumple in a heap on the floor. He didn't move. The other man turned and ran into the dining hall, screeching.

Biting her lip, Yavenna looked at the man on the floor. He wasn't moving. The door of the dining hall opened, the second's man's shocked face peering around the wood, Mrs Cuttle staring wide-eyed by his side. Yavenna grabbed her pack and scurried off towards the front door. She had to go, she didn't have time to play the distressed damsel, and she certainly wasn't going to try to explain. Was the man dead or alive? She couldn't stay to find out; if he was dead she might find others in the pub wanting to haul her off to the local sheriff. And his local cell. Just before the door closed, she glanced back into the corridor. The man she'd hit started to move. She sighed. Well at least he was alive, but that inn was the last place she'd expected to be attacked. She wouldn't be able to stay there again, that was certain, and now there'd be even more rumours. She'd have to be on her guard at all times. Suddenly the idea of running to Tarhasta on her own lost some of its charm.

She dashed away from the inn and began to sprint towards the Lavil Road.

The lights from the small town faded away behind her as she ran through the bluey-black world. Her mouth felt dry, and her pack didn't seem to sit quite right on her shoulders, so she kept fiddling with it. It was too dark tonight, the moon was hidden behind clouds; the only light came from the stars high above her. But their light didn't give her any comfort. She touched the pouch around her neck and shivered. A piece of star that once was as high as the others above her had crashed down to earth. She remembered the chunk Gradeth had shown her. She remembered she'd wanted to keep it, wanted to keep gazing into the achingly beautiful cornflower colour. To immerse herself in the blueness. It was beautiful, yes, but what did anyone really know about it? She swallowed, a bitter taste suddenly in her mouth, thinking of her mother.

A badger scuttled across the road in front of her and she realised suddenly she'd run for miles, lost in thought. Blinking, she stared hard at the trees around her as she ran past them. She couldn't afford to be careless. Anyone could be hiding in the shadows, watching for her. Or anything. From now on she'd better stay really alert. In fact...taking a deep breath she slowly down slightly and pulled out the pendant from the pouch. She held it in front of her as she ran. She didn't actually even want to touch it. For years she'd treasured it, knowing it had lain against her mother's skin, that her mother had worn it even as she slept; that the beating of her mother's heart had made it vibrate. Then she'd found out it was probably this pendant that had killed her mother, and she'd flung it away, never wanting to touch it again. She still didn't want to touch it, she still wanted to weep and sob and scream with the thought that if only her mother hadn't worn it, she'd wouldn't have succumbed to the terrible fatal illness. She didn't even know if it was safe for her, Yavenna, to wear it. She wouldn't know that until she found out whether or not she was human or Ithrim. But in the meantime it was a weapon. The best weapon she had, and she wanted to stay alive. She shoved it over her hair, tucked it into her tunic so it touched her skin, and speeded up.

***

Yavenna ran hard all that evening and all night. She didn't stop when the sun rose, instead, she swapped to a slow jog, changing to a fast walk when wagons started to pass by. By mid-morning she staggered into Dinwald, exhausted. She slept and ate in the city, this time without incident.

As the next evening fell she slipped out of the city, eyes peeled for potential danger, her pack in one hand and slices of hot beef thrust into the middle of a small loaf in the other. Tarhasta's capital lay some twenty leagues to the south of Dinwald. As long as nothing got in her way, she could run all night and get there by dawn, and by running at night she stood a much better chance of being able to avoid the Tarhastan border guards. Stuffing a lump of bread and beef into her mouth, she carefully wriggled her pack onto her back and set off.

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