Petro had just settled in for the night, luxuriating in the thick, soft blankets piled high on the bed, when a knock came on the door.
“Young man!” the disapproving voice of the innkeeper's wife echoed through the door. “You have a guest. A bedraggled-looking young women. Shall I send her in?”
A woman? Petro frowned. This was going to be awkward. Not that he really minded that some woman had taken an interest in him, but he doubted he had enough ready cash to pay for his room and the woman's attentions. Besides, he wasn't sure that he was interested in her attentions. Tsuga had been right, of course, about how he ought to be treating women, if he thought he respected them. Tsuga was probably always right about that sort of thing. He missed her. He figured he had to turn this visiting woman down, though he probably ought to give her something for her trouble.
“Should I send her in?” The innkeeper's wife shouted again.
“No, wait!” Petro jumped out of bed. “I'll come to the door, give me a moment!” he exclaimed, hastily pulling on his tunic. He ran a hand through his hair, not quite combing it.Deciding that this was as decent as he was going to get, he pulled the door open.
The middle-aged innkeeper's wife stood, arms crossed, in the middle of the corridor. Half hidden by the large woman, stood a slender, gawky girl with brown hair, looking forlorn, almost lost.
“Flora Tsuga?” Petro asked in surprise. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”
Tsuga pushed her way past the innkeeper's wife, who tutted unpleasantly.
“Petro,” Tsuga cried, “I need your help.”
She burst into tears. Petro meant only to put an arm around her shoulder, to lead her to somewhere where she could sit and cry as much as she needed to, but Tsuga had other ideas. She clutched Petro's wrinkled tunic, both hands on his chest, and lay her head on his shoulder as tears ran down her cheeks.
Petro could not help putting his arms around her, even as they stood out there in the corridor.
The innkeeper’s wife sniffed loudly. “Well, I never!” She complained.
His arms still around Tsuga, Petro glared at the older woman. “Do you mind?” He protested.
When the woman made no move to leave, Petro gently pushed Tsuga to arm's length “Come on, Tsuga. We'll go sit in my room, and you'll tell me all about whatever it is.” He threw the innkeeper’s wife a glare over Tsuga’s shoulder, then drew Tsuga into the room, and closed the door behind them.
It took less time to get the whole story out of Tsuga than Petro had expected. Tsuga, after all, wasn’t the crying type, and it only took her a few minutes to compose herself, wipe her nose on a dirty sleeve, and begin to lay out the situation, her descriptions like so many carefully drawn battle lines.
Petro was astounded by what he heard. Unfortunately, he didn’t have many helpful ideas – his own colleagues in the 47th were still several days’ travel to the North, and Tsuga refused to trust the local garrison, let alone the city guard in the capital. For a while, Petro simply sat on the one chair in the room, a rough, wooden creation, while Tsuga sat perched on the bed, knitting and unknitting her fingers, restlessly.
“What about some of the other Florae? You must trust some of the girls,” He complained to Tsuga.
“More than I trusted Senior Salix?” Tsuga asked quietly.
Petro looked up, snapping his fingers excitedly, “Exactly, someone you trusted more than you trusted Salix! You said you never told Salix about –“ he looked away for a moment, worried that he might anger Tsuga, “– about the baby that died. But you told someone else.”
“Senior Althaea?” Tsuga frowned, then nodded. “Yes. Yes. That’s true. If I trust anyone, it’s Flora Althaea.”
“Do you think you could find her, if I helped you?”
“Of course! She’ll be in the temple or the palace, she ranks too high now to go out on missions.”
“Then come on!” Petro exclaimed. He jumped out of the chair and started throwing his things into his pack.
“What are you doing?” Tsuga asked, confused.
“Packing! I’m not going to leave my stuff here!”
“We don’t have time. We’re flying out of here, now!”
“But – but my stuff – “
“Leave it!” Tsuga grabbed Petro’s arm.
“Even my horse?!” There was no way he was going to leave the small bay here to be stolen or sold away by the innkeepers.
Tsuga sighed. “Fine, fine. This town has a garrison? We’ll order them to watch your stuff and your horse for you.”
Petro frowned, “I can’t order them to do anything.”
Tsuga smiled, and, putting her hand to her neck, pulled out a ring on a leather cord. “You can’t order them, but I can.”
She dropped to her knees and started gathering Petro’s things together. He joined her companionably, then sat back on his heels.
“Tsuga?” He asked, “Why – why did you come to me? I thought you hated me?”
Tsuga blushed, not looking up from her work. “Petro, I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.”
Petro smiled, but said nothing. He continued his hasty packing.
YOU ARE READING
The Baby and the Battlefield
FantasyA baby? On a battlefield? Marcus is a clerk in the Imperial army. When he finds an abandoned baby on a battlefield, he has no idea what to do with her. His best friend is no help; he thinks Marcus is a sucker for taking the kid in. The slave who end...
