To Paxaria: part 6.1

Review: In the last part, Ruelle and her mentor Altha left the village market and Ruelle prepared to pester Altha into giving the answers she promised. In the meantime, they are beset by a roadside thief, only to have a strange, dark-cloaked figure intervene just in time and rid them of the threat. Ruelle demands to know who the stranger is, recognizes him as the mysterious figure she'd seen Altha talking with in the market, and receives his answer: "Where you're going, most people know me as the King's Stray." Here we pick up the story right after he speaks this line.
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Ruelle let out a sharp laugh.

“The King’s Stray,” she repeated. “Do you hear yourself? That’s exactly the kind of name a spy would have to conceal his identity!”

“Then would it help to know that people in many other regions also know me as the Cartographer?”

Ruelle tilted her head and squinted.

“It would explain the wooden map case you hit the crook over the head with,” she admitted. “But otherwise, no, it doesn’t help.”

She crossed her arms and rocked back on her heels.

“Look, I just want to know who you really are!” she burst out. “Both of you,” she added, making sure Altha knew she meant her, too. “I want to know how you know each other and what you’re involved in that’s so secretive!”

“Then you are in the right place,” Altha said.

“I am? How?”

Altha smiled and shifted her bag – which was fortunately none the worse for its recent abuse - across her shoulders.

“Do you think I happened on this road by chance?” the King’s Stray asked pointedly.

Ruelle did not know what to say. Before he’d asked that, she might have assumed it was all chance, but then again, she hadn’t had adequate time to think about it, either.

“He did not set that thief on us, though,” Altha assured her.

“Most certainly not,” he affirmed with an indignant kick to the rocky ground with the toe of his boot.

“But you planned ahead to meet us here?” Ruelle questioned. A few tiny pieces were coming together.

“Yes,” Altha said. “The King’s Stray is here to give you some of the answers you have been wanting.”

Ruelle looked surprised. This was definitely an unexpected turn of events. With the incident of attempted robbery and the chaotic scuffle in its wake, her mind was still reeling – not to mention she was still trying to calculate whether or not she should trust this ‘King’s Stray.’ Now Ruelle was beginning to feel as if what she’d previously thought of as unexpected was turning out to be quite normal for this day.

“Well,” Altha said, straightening, “Let us not waste any more time. The day is getting away from us. We can discuss and explain things as we go.”

With that, they set off once more, a trio now.

“So let’s start with you,” Ruelle said to Altha. “If ‘spy’ is not exactly the right word to describe you, then what is? And don’t just tell me you’re a physician, because now I know you’re more than that.”

Altha sighed.

“Yes and no. Everything I have told you about myself and my past is true. I did start as a simple midwife, and I did rise through the ranks primarily because someone whose opinion mattered had something to say about it.”

“And what you didn’t tell me?” Ruelle pressed.

“What I didn’t tell you is that I spent a good number of years working directly for the royal court.”

Ruelle’s eyes popped open wide, and she stopped short in the middle of the road.

“You did?!”

Altha smiled a little at her reaction, but something in her eyes looked heavy.

“Yes, and it was a good experience overall. But it was not long before I was recommended for . . . other work.”

“What do you mean by ‘other work?’” Ruelle wanted to know. She felt antsy, like the pace they were walking was too slow for the way her mind wanted to race for all the answers at once.

Altha exchanged a glance with the King’s Stray. It was almost as if she were seeking confirmation that she should actually proceed. But she went on, lowering her voice and choosing her words carefully.

“The premise was that I was to use my renowned skill as a healer to travel to various regions within the kingdom, staying for periods of time in different cities, towns, and villages while ministering to people’s health needs, and sharing my knowledge with local healers and students of medicine.”

“But it was just a cover for something else?”

“Yes and no,” Altha replied – an answer Ruelle was coming to find rather infuriating. “I have always been dedicated first and foremost to my work as a physician. But during this period of which I speak, my frequent travels provided the means which the king’s authorities wanted to collect . . . information. Pieces of knowledge and reports that a royal official could not easily obtain.”

“So spying,” Ruelle said.

“If that is what you want to call it, then, yes, it was spying in a manner of speaking.”

Ruelle glanced sideways at her mentor. She was unsure what to think. This brought a whole different angle to everything she thought she’d known about Altha. There was also a strange mixture of hesitance and yet lack of regret with which the older woman revealed this piece of her background.

“Why, though?” Ruelle asked. “What was the point? Did you never feel bad getting people’s personal information?”

Altha chuckled.

“Believe me, none of what I gathered in that realm of information was nearly as personal as the things I find out about people’s private matters as a physician.”

Ruelle’s cheeks suddenly blushed. Until now, it had never occurred to her that working with Altha likely meant that she, too, would learn things about people that she never wished to know.

“But seriously,” Altha continued, “The reason is that there are so many layers to Paxaria, so much that one is not immediately aware of. Political drama and even rebellions can start to simmer and break out in the smallest of settlements. Alliances shift, discontented people form devious plots, and sometimes the best person to detect these things is one who can appear as just another commoner.”

Brows furrowed, Ruelle pondered all this for a moment. The more she thought about it, the more she started to decide that undercover work actually sounded thrilling and exciting. It was just hard to connect that with what she’d known of Altha up until now.

“So,” she said, addressing the tall man on her other side, “Is this how you and Altha came to know each other? You both worked for the king? You’re called the King’s Stray, so it makes sense.”

“My title has nothing to do with official ties or loyalties,” he said. “The work I do is in the interest of the current leadership, but I am bound by no oath or formality as Altha was. The name simply comes from the fact that most Paxarians are aware that I work in the king’s interest but I do not often stay in one place for long.”

The trees along the side of the road had been growing thinner, and Ruelle could now see a few farmsteads off in the distance. And yet there was still so much more she wanted to know.

“So what keeps you on the move, then?” she asked.

“My work is very mixed,” the King’s Stray replied. “As far as the majority of people know, I make maps, sometimes taking commissions from the king, noble houses, or scholars who have an interest in the ever-changing landscape of Paxaria. So what I do depends on whom you ask. I am many things to many different people – cartographer, historian, scholar, surveyor – but friend to few.”

He gazed into the distance with a faraway look in his eyes.

“But you do the same thing as Altha,” Ruelle said.

“Only in that we both keep our eyes open for anything that might be of interest to the government,” the King’s Stray replied, then added with a half-smile, “But my work involves far more incidents with blades and far fewer herbs.”

This piqued Ruelle’s interest in a new way.

What dangers and risks did this mystery of man get himself into with his mixed bag of work? None of the things he’d mentioned sounded like they would require a sword - yet Ruelle did remember catching a glimpse of the hilt of some weapon beneath his cloak earlier. And she could not deny that something stirred within her heart at everything this strange man had to say.

“There is one other difference,” Altha said, reeling Ruelle’s attention back in to the moment. “And that is that I am retired from my other work - in the strictest manner of speaking - while you are not. Besides, I have an apprentice to train now.”

The King’s Stray arched an eyebrow.

“One who is not officially employed never retires,” he said.

Ruelle barely took note of the half teasing comment. Her mind was going other places, forming questions she feared there would not be time to ask before they parted ways. Elfrida’s house was near in sight already. But she surprised herself with the question that came out first.

“Do you think that thief knew?” she asked in a lowered voice. “Do you think he suspected Altha had valuable information? He said something about knowing who had the good stuff.”

The King’s Stray sighed.

“I doubt it. Most likely he was just a desperate drifter. There is a small possibility that he heard the right rumors here and there and somehow pinned Altha as a person of interest. But it is unlikely he knew anything significant for sure.”

Frowning, Ruelle kicked lightly at the dusty street. She was unsatisfied with this answer, and it made her uncomfortable to think there might be others out there who knew just enough bits and pieces to cause trouble.

And what if there was someone who did know about Altha’s former work? It would do no good if Ruelle found herself as unhelpful in any future danger as she had proved with the thief earlier. Once again, she felt the longing to own a sword or some other weapon she could use for defense.

But now they were practically on Elfrida’s doorstep, and the time for questions was nearly as good as over.

“Thank you for your company on the road,” Altha said to the King’s Stray, giving a slight bow. He rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway.

At that moment, the door opened, and Elfrida appeared.

“Altha!” she cried, beaming. “I’ve just prepared some food for myself and Idylette, and you’re right in time to join us.”

“I would not stay away long, with Mysie being in the poor condition she is,” Altha said in return. “I’ve been growing anxious to check on her again.”

Ruelle’s palms turned cold and sweaty.

This could be the moment she wanted! She just needed Altha to go inside with Elfrida.

Just as if her mentor had understood her thoughts, Altha followed Elfrida up the steps. Ruelle, however, made no sign of moving. Determined not to let her chance pass, she lingered, watching until Altha disappeared with Elfrida through the door and shut it behind them.

Ruelle wasted no time wondering whether Altha had forgotten all about her in her keenness to check on the patient again. Instead, she straightened herself and turned her full attention to the King’s Stray, who still stood nearby.

He fixed her with watchful eyes, waiting. Ruelle got the feeling that some intuition of his could tell she wanted to talk to him. So she took a deep breath and grasped her chance.

“What do you think of the Tribute program?”

Her words came out more rushed than she intended, but there were things she needed to discuss before Altha came looking for her.

The King’s Stray shifted the weight of his lanky form and appraised Ruelle for a moment, calculating, perhaps? Judging her? She hoped not.

“I think,” he said slowly, “That it serves its purpose well, for the most part. It has been a successful establishment in Paxaria for many years.”

Ruelle squirmed and fidgeted with the thin leather belt around her waist.

“Do . . . do Tribute members ever get reassigned? I mean, you know – do apprentices ever get reassigned?”

Her cheeks burned for some reason, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. So much of her fate could revolve around his answer.

A silent moment followed, in which Ruelle felt keenly every heavy thud of her heartbeat. For being a man capable of such swift action as Ruelle had witnessed earlier, the King’s Stray sure was taking his time coming up with a response to her question.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and serious.

“Tribute members have almost always been exclusively assigned to military forces,” he said. “Reassignment isn’t usually a consideration, unless it be a dishonorable expulsion for treason of some form. As for the apprenticeship program,” he folded his arms and looked her in the face with something like grave straightforwardness, “It is still very new, and there is hardly a precedent for the details of its workings.”

Ruelle’s heart fell. It was not a ‘no,’ but neither did it give her any promise of hope. All she could do was nod soberly, clenching and unclenching her anxious hands in the frustration of disappointment.

“You think you’ve ended up in the wrong place, do you not?” he asked, not unkindly.

Meeting his gaze once again, Ruelle found his eyes perceptive, discerning, looking right through her. There was no point in trying to hide the truth from this man. He was a spy, after all.

“Yes,” she admitted in a small voice.

She steeled herself for a lecture, for words like Altha’s, telling her she had to accept her fate as a physician’s apprentice no matter what, that she had no choice.

But he simply nodded, understanding, or maybe just confirming his guesses about her.

“I have no doubt, Ruelle,” he said, stepping closer and holding her gaze with firm conviction, “That each apprentice is placed where he or she is needed most. The great danger lies in not seeing this until it is too late and all chances of shining where you are have escaped you.”

Ruelle swallowed hard. She forced herself to nod. But these words were no comfort to her. They could not change the fact that she was caged in by this unwanted apprenticeship when she so desperately wanted to be among the other Tribute members training to become skilled warriors.

“I should be on my way,” the King’s Stray told her. “But it is more than likely you will see me again.”

With that, he gave her the slightest bow, and then he was off.

Ruelle watched him go, her heart a heavy millstone in her chest. Only a short time in the presence of this enigmatic stranger and she had begun to feel inexplicably drawn to him – his loping stride, so unlike Altha’s measured steps; his ability to shift in and out of shadows as if partly made of them himself; his secret weapon and his secret work, something that involved “far more incidents with blades and far fewer herbs” than the assignment she faced.

In that moment, Ruelle knew what she had to do.

She still was not sure she could fully trust this person who wouldn’t even disclose his real name. Whatever he did sounded dangerous and potentially shifty. But then again, by Altha’s own accounts, her mentor was definitely not all she seemed to be, either. What reason did Ruelle have to trust one over the other?

In a split instant, her mind was made up.

Before she could second guess herself, she took off down the road after the cloaked figure in the distance, running as fast as she could. It was a risk, a huge one, but it was all she had, and she was desperate.

“Wait!” she cried.

It was not a matter of whom she trusted more, she realized.

It was about who held more of what she wanted.

Turning at the sound of Ruelle’s voice, the King’s Stray stopped in his tracks and stood watching her curiously until she approached.

Her heart was beating fast and her face was flushed from her sprint, but her eyes held a bright glint of determination.

“Wait,” Ruelle panted again as she slowed her pace, now coming near enough for conversation.

“What is it?” the King’s Stray asked. He waited patiently while she caught her breath.

“I-I just had one more question,” she said at last.

He nodded, indicating for her to go on.

“This might be foolish, but, well, I knew it might be a long time until I saw you again – if ever – and I knew I had to take my chance.”

The King’s Stray studied her but held his peace. Ruelle could feel her nervousness catching up, but she would not let it overtake her. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and looked the cloaked man right in the eyes.

“You said there’s not a lot of precedent for apprentices, and not many people get reassigned. Well, that could change, couldn’t it? What I’m asking is, you don’t happen to need an apprentice, do you?”

Tiny expressions conveying a multitude of different emotions flitted across the man’s face in one fleeting flash. Ruelle’s heart thudded in apprehension of his answer, but she clasped her hands firmly in front of her, willing herself not to fidget or look away, but to keep her head held high.

Her fears abated a little with the soft chuckle of amusement from the King’s Stray.

“You’re an ambitious one, my lady,” he told her, his eyes smiling. “There is little room to doubt you will make a difference in this kingdom.”

“That’s what I hope to do!” Ruelle said earnestly. “More than anything. Please, just let me train under you, and I promise I will work my hardest to be the best I can!”

The King’s Stray shifted in place and regarded Ruelle with a countenance turned somber.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that,” he said, rubbing his hand over the side of his neck where his scar was. It was his turn to avoid eye contact now.

“But why? Are you sure there’s no way?”

“I do not have the power to overturn these things.” He shook his head slowly. “And even if I did, or if by some turn of events I could even influence the matter, I would not.”

Ruelle’s spirits plummeted and crashed on the cold, unforgiving rocks of disappointment.

“But why?” she repeated. She clenched her hands tightly at her sides to keep from crying.

The King’s Stray looked down on her with eyes full of sadness, and Ruelle seethed inwardly. She did not wish to be pitied right now, nor to be met with compassion unless it was combined with action. At present, she felt those things to be unwanted gifts, mementos to sit there and stare at her as painful reminders that people evidently did not think she was capable of anything worthwhile, and that none but herself would stand by her in this fight.

“I would not,” the King’s Stray answered, “Because I believe that you’re where you are for a reason. There is something here for you to gain that you would not find elsewhere. You can spend your time trying to run from your fate, but in doing so, you might sacrifice not only valuable life lessons, but also the fundamental realization of who you’re meant to be, of where your worth truly lies, of what you, Ruelle, are in this world for.”

Ruelle blinked hard several times in the heavy silence that followed. When the King’s Stray spoke again, his voice was gentle, kind.

“You have it in you to make a difference. Never forget that, wherever your path may take you.”

Ruelle nodded.

“So,” she said slowly, not sure how to change or end this painful conversation, “Where are you going next?”

If Ruelle had begun to despise the King’s Stray for his rejection of her entreaty, the sentiment could not live when he gave a wry smile and said:

“Hopefully to track down an orc with a poisoned blade.”