Potent: Book 1

Chapter 28: New Ventures

Ber, Day 16 of Melia, Winking Moons, Year 602

The longer I live, the more I wonder if the Cure for Everything isn't just Tomorrow.

—From the private journals of Bricot Camdetch, Master Alchemist at Craestor University from 600 to 604

*     *     *

Steady, now, thought Craix to herself.

A soft rain was falling and had soaked through her clothing and into her skin. The ground beneath her was churned and muddy—one of the surest telltale signs of civilization. The city gates before her were open, and she trudged through, disappointed to find only a few huts arranged haphazardly within the bare timbered fort walls, and a slew of ragged tents to fill in any available space.

"Good morrow," said one of the lookouts to her. The man leaned on his pike, and she nodded him a curt greeting before turning to regard the none-too-cheery sight that met her.

After her visit to Liminey, Craix had traveled to Beechton to receive her next missive.

Generally, Craix preferred wilderness and quietude to anything else, but as she shifted her pack more securely up onto her back and stared at the grimy little settlement, her heart sank. This time, she'd been hoping for a clean inn and hot food. No one had told her Beechton would be a green settlement offering none of the comforts an established village might.

In addition, it would be difficult for her to retain autonomy in a place like this. When she was about her business, Craix preferred to avoid the prying eyes and curious questions of strangers.

When Craix can, she should stay on her own, her father had used to say. Craix is safest when she keeps her own company.

Well, that wasn't possible now.

Night was falling and she'd need sleep before she put her plan into action the next day. She glanced about, trying to guess who to approach about renting a—tent? for the night.

Most of Beechton's inhabitants were as miserable and sodden as she was. Several men labored in the rain to add supports to their daub huts and tents, doing their best to protect their families.

Over by the far wall, two little children—boys, laughed uproariously as they played and splashed in the generous puddles. They were both absolutely naked.

The people of Beechton had built the bulk of the settlement up under forested areas as much as possible, and Craix guessed they wouldn't need to put up with too much inclement weather in general. But a persistent rain like this could flood even well-built towns.

She decided on a likely hut—the biggest one with the most light shining from within. It was a welcoming sight in the waning and sodden evening.

Others watched her suspiciously as she made her way through the tiny settlement. She made eye contact with several inhabitants and tried to smile, attempting to assure them she meant no harm. She hoped it was a smile, anyway; it sort of felt like a grimace.

She knocked on the untreated wooden door, soft and slippery with rain.

"Enter," said a gruff voice.

She pulled the door open,peering around it into the hut. A elderly man and his—wife? Sister? Sat on bare stumps in the center of the packed floor. Craix could see where they'd sealed the places where the floor met the walls with extra sand, rocks, and clay. Unbelievably, the little home was dry. There was a cheery fire going, its excess smoke escaping through a vent in a side wall, and a pot of something simmered on an iron spider over the flames. She blinked in surprise.