The Continent (The Continent #1)(36)
His frown grows deeper. “You require medical attention.”
“Noro, please—this cannot wait,” I say. My heart beats faster; I think on some level, I merely want to put off seeing an Aven’ei “doctor” as long as possible. Who knows what terrible medicines he or she might conjure? Everyone in the Spire has heard stories about leeches and other ghastly treatments performed on the Continent. But also, I am desperate to know if the Aven’ei will help me to reach the Spire—if they even have the capability. “A few minutes won’t make a difference,” I add quickly. Hopefully.
“You are very stubborn,” he says.
“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. I must request assistance without any further delay.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he nods, and begins to move forward down the hillside. I follow without a word, glad to be by his side and under his protection as we head toward the village of the Aven’ei.
CHAPTER 12
TWO LOW TOWERS FRAME THE NARROW PORTCULLIS that bars entrance to the village. A voice calls down as soon as we approach, the sound booming in the relative quiet of the early evening. “Who comes?”
“It is Noro, friend.”
A shadow passes between the slits of the tower on the right-hand side. “Noro Zensuke? You were expected three days prior.”
“Open the gate, Takashi. I have traveled far and am eager to rest.”
The iron gate begins to rise, the steady click of its chain in the pulleys a welcome and reassuring sound. A moment later, Noro’s friend—a young man of about twenty-five—appears at the entrance. He is a bit shorter than Noro—perhaps just under six feet—and ruggedly handsome, with strong, arched eyebrows and a sweep of long, dark hair about his shoulders. His wide grin turns to an expression of open surprise when he sees me.
“Noro?” he says, his right hand coming to rest automatically upon the sword at his hip. “What is this?”
“Peace, Takashi. Only a wounded girl in need of help.”
“She’s not—” Takashi pauses, suspicion written on his face. “She’s no Topi?”
Noro spits on the trampled snow. “Of course not. Trust me, friend—all will be explained. May we pass?”
The man shakes his head, but gestures for us to come inside. “If I catch any hell for this—”
“She is no enemy.”
“Find me later?”
“I will do.”
As we walk away, I look back to see Takashi watching us with undisguised curiosity. He is not the last to do so; as we move through the entrance and into the town proper, we draw many stares.
Most of the townspeople are dressed in plain, practical clothes of heavy wool, but a good many of the men wear the fighting garb of Aven’ei warriors. And while these men look as fierce and dangerous as Noro, it strikes me that none are dressed quite like him; he alone wears black from head to toe, while they are clothed in muted fur and leather. Neither do they wear the same style of hair as he does—the sides shaved, with only a thin stripe spiking up along the center of his scalp. I wonder if these differences are significant in some way, but I do not ask.
The buildings, like the walls of the city, are made of stone, and look to have been built with great skill and care—though I notice that the walls seem to have been constructed more recently. I don’t know what I expected from an Aven’ei village—we saw more Topi settlements during the tour than Aven’ei—but it wasn’t pots full of winter flowers crowded onto porches, or beautifully carved rocking horses set into tiny courtyards for the children. The Aven’ei have developed a rich culture—and whether or not they have achieved an understanding of flight, or telephony, or other such modern conveniences, I must admit that all I have seen thus far has been wholly surprising and impressive.
Noro and I continue down the main thoroughfare for a good while before turning onto another lane, this one apparently far less traveled, as it is covered in powdery snow. I sag against Noro, the weakness of my fever manifesting in irregular waves, my vision darkening from the mere exertion of walking. I shake the haze from my eyes. Nearly there. Nearly there now, and soon, I shall meet with the healer. Two more eventual turns bring us to a quiet residential street, lined with single-story stone cottages built quite close to one another. Each house is so near to the next that two people could not stand side by side between them. Rather than looking crowded, however, the whole scene affects an orderly and cozy sort of impression.
“Noro!” comes the cry of an excited voice behind us. I turn to see a boy of about ten years old, accompanied by an enormous gray hound, racing up the road in our direction.
Noro’s face breaks into a wide smile. He extends his arms and the boy barrels into him, and the two embrace.
“Kept the place safe and sound, I see?” Noro says.
The boy grins. “I’ve been practicing every day with the barrels, just as you instructed. I can hit the knothole six times out of ten.”
Noro’s eyebrows inch upward. “A big improvement in a short time.”
The dog—if one could call it that, for it is nearly as tall as a small horse—leans heavily against Noro, who pets the beast with absentminded affection.
“Sit, Aki,” the boy says, and the dog obeys, though not without issuing a sharp whine of discontent. “Who is this?” the boy adds, nodding at me.