Young Writers Society

“You’re telling me your name is Buttane, and when you became an official fool, you didn’t decide to go by Button?” Hilene asked. This was among the longest sentences Buck had ever heard Hilene say, and three of the others had come within the last hour. Maybe he was just a night owl, but it was still striking to Buck.

They were walking north east towards a supply hut that travellers usually topped up on resources in before they reached Resador City. The moon was low now, and frequently covered by clouds, but Buck could just make out the long wide dirt track they walked along. It dipped at the sides from how frequently carts trundled along, but at this time of night they were completely alone, walking along the mossy tufts in the centre of the road.

“Well, I had the bucket, so I thought it would be fitting to be named after it,” Buck said, though he didn’t mention that the bucket’s sole purpose at the time had been as Simone’s home.

“How come you have a Resadorian name in the first place, if your parents were up north? I figure Buttane is Resadorian. You know, the -ne with a vowel before it? Hilene, Victane, and so on.” Hilene said, as the square brown block of the hut came into view.

“My father admired Pires’s father, I think. He always wanted to be an explorer, and bringing his child up down here seemed to be the way to do it,” Buck said. “I haven’t spoken to my mum about that since I was tiny though. Perhaps I’ll ask her about it when I get there.”

“I meant to ask,” Hilene said, as though he hadn’t already asked every question Buck could imagine answering about himself. “How come you’re staying with your mum? Doesn’t she keep sheep? That’s not very courtly.”

Buck shrugged. “It is up there. The palace is at the bottom of a valley, and there’s sheep everywhere. My earliest memories of dye are actually patches of colour marking the ownership of a sheep, rather than the dyeing of clothes. My mum is practically a courtier.”

Hilene and Buck continued chatting – or rather, Hilene continued his interrogation – as they walked along the wide dirt track. A few times Buck tried to include Victane in the conversation, but, conversely to Hilene, he was uncharacteristically quiet.

By the time they reached the hut, Buck thought he must have recounted all the facts of The Lay of a Lost Father to Hilene between all of his questions. It was as if the words had exploded out of the grumpy young man as soon as they left the city. Perhaps this was a manifestation of nervous energy after a big change. Meanwhile Buck’s nerves compelled him to fidget with the coins in his pocket and wonder how much a horse each would cost.

With a quick hop over the ditch at the side of the road, Buck led the two guards up the narrow path of flattened grass to the hut. They weren’t wearing their uniforms, which was probably useful, but Buck still felt their protective presences behind him.

The hut was a surprisingly well kept structure for how small it was. Most people didn’t stay longer than a few minutes as they topped up their supplies, and there was a hatch in the door that Buck expected might be used on busy days to serve queues waiting outside. Buck noticed as he opened the door that the hinge didn’t creak and there were very few splinters popping out from the walls. Inside lanterns hung down from the ceiling and lit the room brightly enough to cause Buck to wince after the dark night.

“Greetings!” A black-skinned woman with her wavy hair tied tightly back called to them from a bar built into the far-left corner.

“Evening,” Buck said, taking the few paces across the room to her.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, leaning on the counter and waving at the guards.

“We need horses,” Buck said, “Ones that can get us to the Royal Court.”

The woman frowned. “Strange time of night to be travelling, and strange time of year to be heading that way. You do know the Queen and her son are currently only a few miles south of here?”

Buck felt a brief flicker of irritation at her for prying, but clicked into thinking on his feet. “The prince saw me perform and agreed to let me join his court. My style is more suited to his court than to Resador, you see. I’m not… energetic enough.”

The woman’s fingers tapped the varnished surface of the bar for a moment, but eventually shrugged. “Well, I hear his court’s a snooze. You’ll fit right in.” Buck had to stop himself from rebuking her, but luckily she went on, “Speaking of snoozing, my horses are asleep. Feel free to wait in some pallets by the fire. If you want them taking you all the way up there you’ll want them rested.”

Buck glanced at the opposite side of the room, where a fire was flickering behind a sturdy metal grate. Neat piles of blankets were placed before it, each topped by a thin woollen sleeping-bag. Luckily there was very little need for warm bedding in a Resadorian summer. He grinned; derision had been exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for from her. Now she’d leave them to sleep in peace, having presumably lost all interest in them.

As they settled down, Victane said, “That was good going, Buck. Do you think that will be our story the whole way north?”

Buck pursed his lips and hummed. “Actually, that’s given me a very exciting idea. Just because I’m away from Pires’s court doesn’t mean I’m out of her service. You know when I hide in the rafters of the meeting hall to gather information? How do the two of you feel about doing a little intelligence work?”

Victane chuckled; Hilene paused in the process of wriggling into his sleeping bag.

“How were you thinking?” Victane asked, smiling at Buck.

“Well, we might be the only three people in here tonight, but tomorrow night we won’t need to be buying horses, so we can stay in a tavern. And what’s in a tavern?”

“Drink?” Victane suggested.

“Drink.” Buck nodded. “And plenty of drunken lips to loosen. We can find out all sorts of things! What to expect up north, how things are going back in Resador, and, if they’re going well, if Erson is planning on waiting longer before going home.”

Hilene yawned. “You’re sounding chipper all of a sudden.”

Buck nodded rapidly. “This is the best I’ve felt since about quarter to eight this evening. I like having a plan.”

Victane beamed. “It’s good to see you back to your usual self.”

Buck grinned; he could say the same about Victane. He glanced at Hilene, wondering if his newfound chattiness would have any ideas to contribute to the reconnaissance initiatives.

Instead, Hilene said just, “Uh huh. Good night, both.” Then he slipped fully into the sleeping bag and lay on his back with his eyes closed.

Victane waved a hand in the air and shook his head. He leant in towards Buck to whisper, “Don’t worry about him. You just stay focused, okay?”

Buck glanced toward Hilene, whose face was completely still. He looked back at Victane, who was smiling with one side of his mouth. He took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll stay focused. We’ll talk strategy in the morning?”

“We’ll be your own personal royal advisors,” Victane said, then he too settled down into his own sleeping bag.

Buck stared at the fire for a few moments, reflecting on the day. It had been a full, busy day, and it had to be close to dawn by now. But as unpredictable as Pires could be, he’d been working with her for years and fundamentally he knew how she worked. His new travelling companions however, he didn’t understand well at all, no matter how long he’d known them. Already Victane had been oddly reserved on the walk here, then relaxed as normal; meanwhile Hilene was back to being brusque as ever. Buck traced lines with his fingers in the air as he tried to work out some semblance of logical links. Perhaps these two ought to be the focus of his reconnaissance work.