We Bend No Knee by T. Thorn Coyle

Author:T. Thorn Coyle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: T. Thorn Coyle

31

CARONDEL

Carondel paced the room, from window to the single bed just wide enough to fit him, and back again.

It wasn't a bad place they had put him. Comfortable enough. Cozy, with warm wood walls that gleamed in the early spring sunlight filtering through the sheer white curtains.

The curtains were hemp, like everything else in this place, including the tunic and pants they had given him. He wore comfortable, well-made brown wool socks on his feet. Wouldn’t do to leave a man his boots. The guard had said that, grinning, when he took the mud-encrusted leather pair. Carondel missed those boots and wondered where they were.

He might need them, should plans go in his direction. And if not? Well, in that case, he would likely never need boots again. The room was simple. Along with the bed, there was a single chair, and a few precious books the schoolteacher had lent him. Old, battered things from Pre-Reckoning, as the humans called it, plus one that looked new, encased in a sturdy hemp-covered binding.

But much as the alchemist loved study, he could not focus on the books today. He was restless, and his fingers itched for his alembics and retorts. For his herbs, and a mortar and pestle, and for his own library, filled with arcane lore and more magic than he had the time or chance to try.

But here he was now, throwing his lot in with humankind. He hoped it was the correct choice, though there was never truly a way to tell. Every action changed the shape of the future, and besides, Carondel was an alchemist, not a prognosticator like some.

His magic was in the doing, not the knowing.

A knock came at his door. He stopped his pacing and waited. Soon enough, he heard a key in the lock and the guard’s rumbling voice talking with someone whose voice was pitched much higher.

A woman, perhaps?

She soon stepped through, someone he had not seen before. The woman wore the apron of a kitchen worker over an undyed hemp shirt, heavy dark trousers, and boots. Her light red hair was pulled back into a neat bun. Her feet looked to be about the size of his own. For a moment, he wondered if he could steal them from her….

She was a pretty woman with some pockmarks on her face, and hazel eyes set over a beaky nose. The woman shouldered the door shut behind her. He heard the snick of the lock. The guard had shut them both in together. With a few long strides, she crossed the room and set the tray down on the small table next to the single chair.

The scent of some sort of meat soup reached out to grab his nose, along with the fragrance of freshly baked bread and butter. Carondel’s mouth immediately filled with saliva.

One thing he would say for the people of Go No More: they ate well.

Once the woman had finished with her task she turned, making an urgent motion with her hands.

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