Sam woke early, as was her habit. Her entire body usually turned off the moment her head hit the pillow, and turned on again just before the sun began to peek over the horizon. This occasionally was a problem, her family having learned long ago not to put her anywhere near a pillow until absolutely necessary. The getting up part never caused a problem... unless you counted her sister's anger at having it compared to her lateness in waking.
Maybe all that extra beauty sleep was what had made Polly, well... Polly.
Sam, as she always did of late, began her day taking in her surroundings from the bed. They were in the room at the inn, thick wooden beams in the darkness overhead. Polly was next to her, curled on her side. They almost never crossed over into the other sister's territory when sleeping together, the waking truce extending into their nocturnal state. Another bed sat not that far away, snoring coming from the large lump.
Snoring. That was another thing Sam wished she could do. Dad snored, she didn't. It wasn't fair.
Eyes on the other bed, Samantha slowly stretched her limbs, getting ready. That he was snoring was a good sign. Maybe, today, she could...
With no interruption in the sound, two eyes opened in the darkness across from her. Sam grinned. She might wake early, but Dad was the lightest sleeper in the world. The eyes closed again, her father seeming to snuggle even more under the blankets now that the source of whatever had woken him was identified. With no further need of stealth, the covers came off and her nude body slipped out of the bed onto the cold floor. It was time to start the day.
****
The cloths hanging near the common room fireplace were not quite dry, but neither were they soaking wet. If today was rain free, just hanging them inside the wagon would probably finish the job as they continued onward. Which was good. Sam did not have that many good outfits, which in her case meant simple and unripped. She may not be into finery, but she did like her clothing clean.
At the start of the day, at least.
Seeing no one about, Sam ambled through the dim firelight towards the tavern's front door. She had on a simple pull over shirt, white with only one or two faded stains, with a pair of old tough pants. Her sandals were still damp, so she had forgone any footwear. Her feet were so tough she wasn't even thinking about splinters from the wooden floor. She could see, though the windows, just the hint of light. Dawn was breaking.
Stepping through the doorway, she was met with the rattling of wooden wheels over the stone plaza. Two horses pulled an empty cargo wagon past the central well, its burly driver nodding to her as he passed. She smiled in return, eyes taking in the small village. The sounds of morning life, familiar the world over, came to her. The blacksmith was already at work, trying to beat the day's heat. At the far end of the town, a group of men trudged through the wooden gate towards the fields. She could hear women, gossiping, as they began their day. She may have grown up in, been raised in the city, but... this, this spoke to her. She would never be a farmer, no, nor a farmer's wife. But, the life of a small town, or traveling from town to town... it was wrong to be glad of her father's, and sister's, misfortune, but through it she had discovered her true calling.
Movement caught the corner of her eye. Turning, Sam saw Jack sitting on a wooden bench.
She had also discovered him.
"Morning."
Sam hoped that came out OK. She felt so... nervous around him. She had no idea why. The look he returned was serious. The smile of yesterday nowhere to be seen. He nodded, then looked back at his feet. Jack was holding a thin stick, making marks in the dirt. The paving did not quite reach the building, leaving a few feet of ground. Looking around, to see if anyone was watching, although why would that matter she couldn't have said, she sat down next to him. Jack was wearing the clothing they had given him last night, cloth trousers a bit too big and an un-mended blue shirt. His blond hair was a mess, showing he had gone to bed with it wet. Maybe she should get a comb from Polly...
"You sleep OK?"
He shrugged. Looking around, she found another stick. Rather than bend over, she extended a leg, using her toes to grab the slender item and bring it back towards her. Lifting the foot up, she snagged the stick. Jack's eyes were on her, that smile almost peaking through whatever was bothering him. Feeling a blush coming, she began to draw.
"Dad will be up in a little bit. We'll get you some clothing that fits, then go on. Can't see us staying here too long. Especially after those bandits. Dad doesn't like sticking around after things like that."
He nodded.
Sam glanced down at Jack's feet. They were bare, like hers. Shoes of some kind would also have to be on the shopping list. He was drawing... there were letters. Her eyes shot up to his face, then back down. She wasn't a GOOD reader. Mom had taught Polly, but had been gone before Samantha was of age. Money for tutors had been better used elsewhere. Polly had done her best to teach Sam, but... well, other things had interested her more.
She now had all the incentive in the world to resume those lessons.
'No' was the first word. She knew that one. There was a wide space, then... it looked like a letter W. Or was that an upside down M? Wait, was a W an upside down M? That was right, wasn't it? As she watched, Jack circled it a few times. He seemed to be struggling. Almost as if... was he having trouble writing this? Maybe he wasn't much better at writing than she was.
His blue eyes turned to the sky above them. She followed his gaze. The stars were gone, the sky a dark blue slowly lightening. The stick, she saw, was still moving, even as his mind seemed to be elsewhere. It was making... well, not straight lines. You don't get those when you're not watching what you're doing. There was a wavy cross, a couple random curves, then another cross...
Wait. Those were... the letter T? The T was like a cross, yes? And those other things... That was an R, the wavy thing was an S...
'Trust'.
'No Trust W'.
The door beside her began to open. The dirt writing vanished as Jack's stick began a flurry of movement, random swirls and scrapes.
****
Wendy stepped into the morning air. It was... strange. She had spent the last year (or had it been two?) underground in her Mistress's caves. They had been nice caves, to be sure, dry, warm, and not THAT dirty once she had been forced to scrub them on hands and knees. She had... liked it. Felt protected. The outside world could be forgotten, all her being focused on the years of training to come.
Now she was in that outside world.
Exposed.
"Good morning, Wendy."
The tomboy was sitting on a bench next to Jack. They had sticks in their hands, the dirt between their bare feet full of random scratches. She was glad to see Jack here. There had been a moments fear when she had woken that he had escaped, that the spell only bound his magic and not his body. But, no, it seemed that, by whatever bond had been created, she had not lost her new found book. Wendy smiled at the two.
"Good morning. Have a good night's sleep?"
Jack's eyes flicked to her, hatred shining out through the morning air, then looked away. She'd have to teach him to like her. Like a dog could be made to respect his master. She was a good person, after all.
"I sleep like a log. Or a rock." Samantha seemed proud of that fact. Wendy just shook her head at the girl.
"That's good." Her eyes took in the town. It was small, dirty. Peasants. That her parents were of such stock made it worse. There was a reason she had wanted magic, and it wasn't so she could be someplace like this. Even a cave was better. "So, we're leaving this morning?"
"After food and shopping."
Well, Wendy couldn't object to either of those.
****
The three teens watched for the next half hour as wagons and carts began to slowly enter the plaza. Whether the rain had by common consent delayed things, or this village had decided to be different, it appeared the mid-week market was setting up a day later than elsewhere in the world. This worked out well for the travelers, naturally. As stalls began to form, they retreated inside to join their now woken companions. The owner of the tavern, a large woman with disturbing similarities to Wendy's own mother, served a breakfast of leftover stew and fresh bread. Wendy ate hungrily. Last night had drained her, much more so than she would have thought. Jake ate well, too. That was good. He was much too skinny.
Samantha made a quick run out to the stable, reporting the horses were fed, watered, and ready to go. Gary put a hand out to ruffle her hair.
"Good. I want to get out of here soon, so we have to shop quickly." His eyes focused on Polly. "And I mean, quickly."
She let out a sigh, which to Wendy sounded a bit spoiled. To the girl's surprise, Polly stepped over and took her hand.
"Come on, we have to do this quick." She began pulling the dark skinned redhead towards the door while looking back at her dad. "We'll look at herbs, then meet you at the tailor's. I already took money from your sack."
They were out the door before Wendy could hear any reply.
****
Wendy was dragged half way across the plaza before Polly released her hand. The young woman had stopped. Taking a deep breath, she seemed to shudder. Wendy just watched, unsure what to make of this. Breathing out a long sigh, Polly looked over at her.
"God. You don't know what a relief it is to be away from them for a little bit. They've been... well, it's not like I've been a prisoner or anything, but they haven't let me out of their sight ever since..."
Wendy waited, but Polly didn't go on. Instead, the woman looked around.
"OK, what do you think. Should we try one of the sellers setting up now, or go wake up whatever merchant has an actual store in this village?"
Wendy turned her body a full rotation, taking in the options. About a dozen sellers could now be seen arranging their wares. There might be more outside the walls: they had learned the night before that the town actually extended out along the road on the side opposite where they entered. Those buildings would be less permanent, designed to be abandoned at the first sign of trouble, but that mattered not now.
Her eyes caught sight of a woman sitting next to a two wheeled hand cart. Various herbs, roots, and plants were displayed around her, both dry and fresh. Just what Polly said she needed. The woman, though...
There was no dress code for witches, or warlocks. To advertise outwardly could be a foolish thing among strangers, and magic often worked best when done in the shadows. To Wendy, though, the seller had the signs of one who had practiced. Just being one who sold such plants was one clue, although most who did so probably were more likely to be harmless nature worshipers. This one, though, had cast a glance at Polly. A glance that seemed to... see the faint pink glow of magic radiating from the unborn child.
Such a person was probably harmless. Most likely WAS harmless. Still...
"Let's see if the local merchant has what we need, first."
Polly regarded her for a moment, face serious, then nodded. Again to Wendy's surprise, she took the girl's hand.
"I saw a sign down this way."
As they walked down the paved roadway, Wendy became very conscious of the difference between the two women. Their dress, naturally, was a contrast between beauty and beast. Polly wore a simple, elegant white dress, falling down to her ankles. Brown sash tied to her waist, there were no decorations beyond a slight ruffling of the fabric at the end of the flowing long sleeves. The neckline was very conservative, her breasts not needing any enhancement. Wendy's pudgy body, by contrast, was covered in an oversized man's shirt and pants. She had rolled up the legs as much as she could, a rough rope holding the pants up, although they sadly were not THAT loose on her. The shirt had fasteners down the front, and she had left the bottom half undone and tied it off. She didn't have a mirror, but she had to look like some whore who had stolen her last man's clothing.
It was amusing, at least, that she had not been embarrassed the day before to come upon strangers while fully nude, but now felt self-conscious while clothed. Her eyes darted around. Well, it HAD been awhile since she had been clothed...
The sign above the door had a carved and painted Tipton's Weed. There was no writing, not a surprise. Through the one multi-pane window to the left of the door they could see baskets and barrels, overflowing with leaves and seeds.
"We'll try this," Polly said. Pulling on the rope handle, she opened the door and led Wendy inside.
The lighting was dim, no candles or lamps lit in the morning light. An older woman, maybe twice their age, sat against the wall on a stool, needlework in her hand. She looked up, surprised.
"So, the market not up and running yet? I have a girl out there with a stall down by the wall."
Polly shook her head.
"We're leaving as soon as we can, and didn't want to wait." She looked at Wendy. "Well?"
Wendy thought, then looked at the shopkeeper.
"We need some garlic. Fresh, if you have it."
The woman nodded, standing with a mild groan and placing her needlework on the stool. She led them to a small basket sitting up on a table.
"My girl brought these cloves in two days ago. Should be fresh enough for you." Her eyes dropped down to Polly's stomach. A bulge could barely be seen. "They should be safe enough, too."
Polly seemed to blush, one hand going to cover the growing baby. Wendy picked up a few of the cloves, examining them. She wasn't an expert, far from it, but did know enough to see these should do the job. She nodded to the woman.
"We'll take a handful." The woman nodded, leaving them to go find a container. Wendy leaned a little closer to Polly. "You still haven't said, exactly, what is wrong. Do you need more?"
Polly seemed to hesitate. Her left hand slowly traveled across her body to grab her right forearm. She bit her lip, then slowly pulled up her sleeve.
Short red marks appeared on her otherwise flawless skin.
Wendy paled. Those... those were...
Her eyes shot up to Polly's face. The woman's eyes were haunted.
"Are... are you marked?"
Polly shook her head, slowly.
"No more. He... he died."
Wendy looked back down at the offered arm. She had been owned. A source of magic, for some warlock, the blood that fed her unborn child used to fuel spells of power. And, once used... the magic began to build. A storage vessel had to keep being used. The longer the wait, the stronger the spell. But wait too long, let too much power gather...
"Does your father know?"
Polly let the sleeve fall back, arms wrapping around to hug herself. Wendy could feel the sudden chill in the air.
"That Timothy used me, yes. That... I asked him to, no..."
****
Villages were not cities. You could not walk into a shop, pick out an outfit, and leave within an hour with something that fit reasonably well. What you COULD do, though, was buy the fabric you needed, cut roughly to size, and have your woman folk finish the work later. Thus, it was with amazement Jack finished tying the leather belt on the worn pair of jeans. They could be a touch longer, maybe, and obviously others had owned them, but they were clean and whole. With a grin, he spun around for Gary and Sam. The girl clapped, a matching grin on her face. Turning to the shopkeeper, he nodded to him.
"It's one of my son's old pairs," the man said, pride in his voice indicating the child had outgrown them, not left them behind after some tragedy. "I have two more just like it, if you want them. Shirts, well, I have one that should fit, and can give you some fabric. You're not a bulky lad."
"That will do nicely," Gary said. He looked around. "If we had the time, I'd give you a week's worth of orders, as my own clothing is beginning to wear." The man nodded.
"I know how it is. I'll content myself with overcharging you for this."
The two men laughed. Jack ignored them. He was just happy to be dressed.
A small warm hand took his arm.
"Dad, we're going outside, see if we can flag down Polly and Wendy. You can finish up in here."
"What, I have to carry this myself?"
"Yup."
Jack had the good manners to look back at Gary, expression one of helplessness, as Sam dragged him out of the store. Her father just laughed, waving them away. He must be used to this, to the whims of two daughters. With no choice in the matter, Jack found himself next to Sam between two vegetable stalls as they entered the street. It was getting busier, the towns women out getting what they needed for the week. They were dressed, not for a stroll, but for work, plain clothing meant to be dirty and stained by day's end. Again, he was reminded of home.
"This way."
Still holding his arm, Sam led him down the street. She walked slowly, all sense of urgency gone. Her shoulder, then hips, bumped against his, then returned for a longer contact. Jack... liked it.
"Are you from the city, Jack? Or from a small place like this? We were in the city, for as long as I can remember." He glanced down at her. There was nothing masculine about the girl now. She was a bit taller than Wendy, head about level with his ears. Her free hand came up and swept her short hair back behind her own ears. They were small, almost delicate. He had never noticed a person's ears before. Reaching his free hand over, he extended a finger and touched her bare arm. She almost stopped, surprised, eyes widening as he slowly spelled a word.
"Farm? You grew up on a farm?" Jack traced a 'Y', enjoying the excuse to touch her. There had been a girl, back home... Elly?... who he had...
Jack stopped.
Why couldn't he remember that name?
Sam moved in front of him, expression worried. Her hand slid down his arm, grabbing his right hand.
"What's wrong?"
What was wrong? He should be able to picture the girl he grew up with. Her image should be as clear as his own...
What did his parents look like?
Jack didn't even notice as Sam pulled them off the street into a small path between wooden buildings. He remembered things. Remembered his father dying. Knew that. But, he couldn't see him. Couldn't see his mother. He could hear her voice, that song she always sang as she sliced carrots on the table...
Had the witch done this? Was it part of... whatever horror she had inflicted on him? Or had Wendy done it, last night? Oh, that bi...
A pain shot through his head.
Ah, that was right. He couldn't think ill of the wonderful witch Wendy. Her gift to him, along with slavery. What a wonderful woman she was, so generous...
"Jack, you're scaring me. Are you OK?"
No. He wasn't. But there was nothing he could do, about Wendy or his mind. Not now. If his memory was gone... well, maybe it would come back. Maybe it wouldn't. It was not something he had control over, most likely. He still knew his parents. That, at least, was something. Smiling weakly at Sam, he squeezed her hand.
"If there's anything I can do, just say it."
OK, that was funny. Jack cocked an eyebrow at her, smile getting stronger. It only took a moment for her eyes to light in understanding, cheeks blushing.
"Oh! I mean..." She laughed. "You can write it on me!" Something on his face must have caused her to consider her words again, as Sam's blush darkened. Her eyes stayed on him, though. "You can," she whispered, stepping closer. "Write on me anywhere you want..."
Any answer he could have given vanished from Jack's mind as he saw Wendy and Polly walking past on the street behind her. He motioned with his head, Sam distractedly turning just in time to see them vanish from view. Releasing his hand, she almost jumped back. Her face looked like she had just stolen something and now had to go talk to its owner.
"We should go," she stammered. "Dad will want to head out now."
Jack nodded. Stepping close to her again, he reached out and traced two letters on her bare arm.
'OK'.
****
The sun was about a quarter way up the eastern sky as their wagon headed through the town gate. Gary nodded to the guard, an old man who probably knew much, but could do little. Beyond the earthen wall, half a dozen wooden buildings lined the roadway before another road crossed this one. He considered taking one of the new options. It would throw off any pursuit, although if none had shown up by now he was probably safe. Plus, it was not like he had any destination other than 'away' in mind. In the end, he let the horses decide. Loosening the reigns a bit, he gave them the option.
Not surprisingly, they just kept going straight. Well, that must be God's will.
Sam stretched next to him on the bench, muscles popping. If there was one good thing about this new life, it was getting closer to her. She was the son he didn't realize he had. Even if, he thought as she looked down at Jack walking beside them, that son seemed to have an interest in men.
"You sure you want to walk, Jack? There's room in back."
The expression the teen gave his daughter spoke volumes. Wendy and Polly were back there, bouncing around with their supplies. Walking was definitely a better option, at least for now. Gary took his right hands off the reigns and placed it on Sam's shoulder.
"I'll trade off with him in a bit. Actually, it'll be good to stretch my legs every hour or so." He looked over his daughter. "That sound good to you, Jack?"
Jack signaled agreement with his hand. They'd have to come up with some sort of hand language, if they were going to be together a while. There were questions that needed answering.
That could wait, though. He looked ahead. The sky was clear, the road reasonably dry.
It was a good day.