The Warded Man (Demon Cycle, #1)(138)

Leesha didn’t notice the slip. “My mentor, Bruna,” she said, fat teardrops falling onto her apron. “A few others, as well, and two children I never had the chance to meet. Over a dozen in all, and more than half the town still laid up. My father worst amongst them.”

“I’m sorry,” Rojer said.

“Don’t feel sorry for me; it’s my fault,” Leesha said.

“What?” Rojer asked.

“I should have been there,” Leesha said. “I haven’t been Jizell’s apprentice in years. I promised to return to Cutter’s Hollow when my studies were done. If I had kept my promise, I would have been there, and perhaps …”

“I saw the flux kill some people in Woodsend once,” Rojer said. “Would you like to add those to your conscience? Or those that die in this very city, because you can’t tend them all?”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” Leesha said.

“Isn’t it?” Rojer asked. “You said yourself that it does nothing to serve the dead if you stop living yourself out of guilt.”

Leesha looked at him, her eyes round and wet.

“So what do you want to do?” Rojer asked. “Spend the night crying, or start packing?”

“Packing?” Leesha asked.

“I have a Messenger’s portable circle,” Rojer said. “We can leave for Cutter’s Hollow in the morning.”

“Rojer, you can barely walk!” Leesha said.

Rojer lifted his cane, set it on the counter, and stood. He walked a bit stiffly, but unaided.

“Been faking to keep your warm bed and doting women a bit longer?” Leesha asked.

“I never!” Rojer blushed. “I’m … just not ready to perform yet.”

“But you’re fit to walk all the way to Cutter’s Hollow?” Leesha asked. “It would take a week without a horse.”

“I doubt I’ll need to do any backflips on the way,” Rojer said.

“I can do it.”

Leesha crossed her arms and shook her head. “No. I absolutely forbid it.”

“I’m not some apprentice you can forbid,” Rojer said.

“You’re my patient,” Leesha shot back, “and I’ll forbid anything that puts your healing in jeopardy. I’ll hire a Messenger to take me.”

“Good luck finding one,” Rojer said. “The weekly man south will have left today, and at this time of year, most of the others will be booked. It’ll cost a fortune to convince one to drop everything and take you to Cutter’s Hollow. Besides, I can drive corelings away with my fiddle. No Messenger can offer you that.”

“I’m sure you could,” Leesha said, her tone making it clear she was sure of no such thing, “but what I need is a swift Messenger’s horse, not a magic fiddle.” She ignored his protests, ushering him back to bed, and then went upstairs to pack her things.

“So you’re sure about this?” Jizell asked the next morning.

“I have to go,” Leesha said. “It’s too much for Vika and Darsy to handle alone.”

Jizell nodded. “Rojer seems to think he’s taking you,” she said.

“Well he’s not,” Leesha said. “I’m hiring a Messenger.” “He’s been packing his things all morning,” Jizell said. “He’s barely healed,” Leesha said.

“Bah!” Jizell said. “It’s near three moons. I haven’t seen him use his cane all morning. I think it’s been nothing more than a reason to be around you for some time.”

Leesha’s eyes bulged. “You think that Rojer …?”

Jizell shrugged. “I’m just saying, it isn’t every day a man comes along who’ll brave corelings for your sake.”

“Jizell, I’m old enough to be his mother!” Leesha said.

“Bah!” Jizell scoffed. “You’re only twenty-seven, and Rojer says he’s twenty.”

“Rojer says a lot of things that aren’t so,” Leesha said.

Jizell shrugged again.

“You say you’re nothing like my mum,” Leesha said, “but you both find a way to turn every tragedy into a discussion about my love life.”

Jizell opened her mouth to reply, but Leesha held up a hand to stay her. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I have a Messenger to hire.” She left the kitchen in a fume, and Rojer, listening at the door, barely managed to get out of her way and out of sight.

Between her father’s arrangements and her earnings from Jizell, Leesha was able to acquire a promissory note from the Duke’s Bank for one hundred fifty Milnese suns. It was a sum beyond the dreams of Angierian peasantry, but Messengers didn’t risk their lives for klats. She’d hoped it would be enough, but Rojer’s words proved prophetic, or a curse.

Spring trade was on in full, and even the worst Messengers had assignments. Skot was out of the city, and the secretary at the Messengers’ Guild flat-out refused to help her. The best they could offer was next week’s man south, a full six days away.

“I could walk there in that time!” she shouted at the clerk.

“Then I suggest you get started,” the man said dryly.

Leesha bit her tongue and stomped off. She thought she would lose her mind if she had to wait a week to leave. If her father died in that week …