* * * * *

Leers, though only a fragment of the great city it had once been, still retained at least that fragment. The cobbled streets sloped past abandoned shops and homes on the outskirts, but in the center – ‘Old Town’ as it was so called – was one of the few communities still in existence in all of Alrianto. There was a market at which a few out-of-towners came every weekend to trade their cabbages and cuts of pork for itchy brown cloth and iron tools. Mothers locked the shutters tight against the cool night and tucked their daughters down beneath scratchy sheets while their husbands and sons congregated in one of the two pubs that served their own special brews. The goings-on were all supervised closely by Lord Danks, the master of Leers Estates, the nearby plantation that heavily supported the economy of Leers. Perhaps it was because of Danks’ close involvement with Old Town that it was allowed to prosper quite as much as it did; in most places, the Royal Bureau had set up so many strict rules that few desired to obey them in exchange for neighbors and culture.

It was because of Danks involvement with Leers that Rowan paused on the outskirts of town and informed the others, “I cannot be seen. The Lord Danks . . . I spent some time at Leers Estates, and would not be kindly welcomed home.” Because it was solely she that was in danger from this, she hated to bring it up and be the greasy wheel, but the truth was that the group needed her. Without her, they’d be fish on the docks, gasping for air – she knew this.

“So then we shouldn’t stay in the city,” Will suggested, sliding off his horse and offering his hand to Menna to help her dismount. It had become clear over the past two days that, though she vehemently denied it, her riding experience was severely limited – Rowan wondered if she had ever ridden a horse at all. In fact, she seemed a bit frightened by the large animals, and even now edged away as soon as Will had helped her to solid ground.

“I suppose we’ll be camping out here,” she sighed. She was also clearly not an advocate for camping, but at least had wisely kept her mouth shut except for the occasional sigh.

Rowan shook her head, “No, we’ll sleep in the city.”

“But where will we be safe?”

“I have a friend,” she answered Legolas. “He’ll have food and beds for us.”

Kai, slipping off the horse, screwed his face up with confusion and pressed, “Rowan, how is it that you have these friends?”

“I don’t have multiple friends. It’s just one, the same one you met back in Kirsoden.”

“That Gany creature? I didn’t really like him . . . he gave me the creeps,” Kai admitted with a laugh which only broaded when Rowan nodded, “Oh, me too. I think it’s the buggy eyes. I’ve known him for as long as I can remember, and I’ve always been waiting for one of them to pop out of its socket.” Menna made a face and turned away. “We’ll go to him, but on foot.”

The sun was just disappearing behind the treeline as they picked their way along the sharply uneven streets, the horses huffing their unhappiness with the cobbles that jutted out at odd angles beneath their hooves. Menna and Will stumbled constantly; Kai was saved simply by nimbleness. Only Rowan and Legolas seemed unphased by the footing. They walked past other groups of locals who seemed just as disturbed by the cobblestone, shutters closing in their wake as though a result of their passing. The pubs were empty for a while still, but enough people milled about the streets that the group went unnoticed as Rowan expertly led them down back ways, steering clear of the main drag.

“A stone’s throw from the main row, and two hops past the last shops,” Rowan muttered to herself before motioning for them to wait outside a particularly tall and narrow building constructed of an orange mudlike substance. She handed Kai the reigns, ducked inside, and poked her head out a moment later to point to the next building and order, “Take the horses to the people in there, then come inside here.” This was done, and soon Kai was speculating how on earth the inside was as large as it was, and why it looked identical to the room he had met Gany in at Kirsoden. Furthermore, how and why was Gany now here instead of there?

These questions were forced to wait, though, as Menna, Will, and Legolas scrutinized the shriveled creature who stood before them and asked Rowan, “So, Hecilewen, you have sought me out again. What ails you this time?”

“I’ll tell you after we have some food, if you please. It’s been two days since—“

“Pardon me, little master,” Legolas interrupted, stepping forward with a furrowed brow. “But are you a hobbit or an orc? You slightly resemble both . . .”

“An orc! Why! I should think myself far too fair for that comparison,” Gany snorted, turning his wide eyes to Legolas. The elf stood so much taller than him that Gany was forced to look directly upwards. “But these hobbits you speak of . . . I may at some length be a descendent of that race . . . yes, I have been told that before . . . but who can really know these days, families being what they are.”

“What’s a hobbit?” Will asked cautiously, afraid he didn’t want to know the answer.

Kai sighed, “I’m so tired of questions. When do we get some answers?”

“That’s a question,” Menna whispered. There was a pause, and then perhaps it was the promise of food that inspired the contagious chuckle.

Gany’s laugh, a hoarse, wheezing guffaw, bounced off the stone floor as he motioned, “Come, come, I believe we can set an extra place or so.”

“I don’t think you could refuse,” Rowan prodded, the first to follow. “What are friends for, right?”

“We are friends now! Well, I think I may tear up at your flattery, Hecilewen. Have you ever called me your friend before?”

“Only when I need something from you,” she laughed.

The backroom that he led them to, through a series of two doors that showed also a staircase leading upstairs to what Menna severely hoped were fresh beds, had three long wooden tables at which sat two other tall men. They glanced up at the entrance, then bent their heads back to silently devouring the potatoes and bread on the steel plates before them. Gany motioned for the travelers to sit and several minutes later a short, round, dwarvenesque woman was bringing them all plates with some sort of meat, potatoes, and rolls.

Legolas watched the woman closely, which Rowan noticed and commented on, “Not everyone fits the races you are used to in Etriena.”

“How do you know our host?” Legolas asked instead of commenting on that, his eyes trailing the creature as he shuffled between the two men on the far side of the room and the dwarven woman who sat by the fire. It was possible he had a romantic affiliation with her, but it was hard to tell.

Will nodded and added, “And why does he call you Hecilewen? What does that mean?”

“Well I don’t know why everyone is so interested in me,” Rowan shrugged with a tight laugh. The attention did make her a bit uncomfortable. She disliked being asked about herself, which only reminded her how little she knew of her own life.

“How do you know so much about Alrianto’s past?” Legolas continued, ignoring what he took as her modesty. “You know of places that no longer exist, or ancient names of places that are now called otherwise. You can read and write . . . I know you said you don’t remember anything about your childhood, but what about since then? What do you remember?”

“I remember . . .” Rowan mused, setting her chin in her hand and trying to decide what she felt like answering with. But then, why shouldn’t she be honest? With a shrug, she offered, “I’ve lived on eight plantations and led slave revolts on six of them. The last plantation I was on before Warian’s was a failure; I was sold before the rebellion was completed, and then at Warian’s, the slaves were entirely uncooperative with my efforts . . .”

“But if you lead rebellions, why are you still a slave?” Menna pressed. “Does everyone get recaught?”

“No. Everyone has gone into hiding. Most are now part of Gany’s network. Gany, hobbit or orc or whatever you take him to be, was a slave at the Benella plantation at the same time I was. Turns out, he was a plant, just like me.”

“A plant—“

“I mean that we choose to put ourselves back into slavery.”

“But . . . but why?” Kai gasped.

Rowan smiled, “To fight it. As long as the Royal Bureau stands, external forces aren’t going to end slavery. It’ll have to crumble from within.”

“So you chose to be a slave?”

“Yes. I wasn’t a slave originally. I . . . well, even from what I remember, I wasn’t a slave. I sold myself. Anyways, Gany was at the Benella Plantation with me. Shortly after Bill Turner and his crew came round, we led the revolt, freed everyone, and I replanted myself while Gany decided to work behind the scenes with the underground network we’ve finally started stringing together.”

“What network?” Legolas asked. His eyes trailed to the two men across the room and Rowan nodded.

“Gany has houses in every city left in Alrianto. The underground network . . . well, not everyone that’s in hiding is quiet about it. There are messengers, meetings. At the moment, it’s basically just slave revolts because what else is there to do? But as the numbers grow . . . eventually there could be a coup d’etat,” she grinned, leaning forward with excitement now. She had forgotten how quickly her heart raced with the knowledge of what she was involved in, what she had, really, started.

“Coup d’etat . . . that’s French,” Will mused, but no one listened; all ears were on Rowan.

“Wait, so there’s—well, why don’t we just have the underground catch the pirates then?” Menna suggested.

Rowan shook her head, “We’re not that cohesive yet. I told you, Gany’s about the only link available. There have been a few . . . betrayals, to say the least, so people are cautious. Gany’s houses are where members of the underground can go for help. He carries messages and holds information.”

“You said you weren’t originally a slave,” Kai suddenly remembered, grabbing Rowan’s arm. “What do you first remember, then? What was going on before you jumped into slavery?”

“What’s your very earliest memory?” Legolas nodded in agreement with the question.

Rowan paused here. That was personal . . . perhaps? But really, what did it matter? Everyone noticed her sudden frown, but they waited nonetheless, hoping she would speak. And she did, offering hesitantly, “The first time I remember . . . I was alone in an abandoned house far west of here, almost to the boarder of Etriena. No one there. The house was ransacked. I woke up in the upstairs bedroom . . .”

She could see the house exactly as it had been; her memories of that day were as clear as the memories before that weren’t. The curtains had billowed in the breeze trailing through the house, and papers had floated down as though ghosts were kicking them up in their wake. The house had felt sleepy; she hadn’t known how long she had been asleep, or what she had been before. The realization that she didn’t know who was had been cripplingly terrifying. She had searched the house from top to bottom, reading every single thing in sight in the hopes of gaining some clue to who she was or what had taken place to leave her there alone. There had been nothing except books, a few histories she had poured over which had given her what information she knew now about Alrianto. The books had been banned, and when soldiers suddenly appeared at the house less than a week later, these hidden treasures had been burned.

“I was taken to Kirsoden and questioned,” Rowan explained. The cell they had put her in was damp and dimly lit and though the dungeon was crowded, no one spoke. “But of course, I couldn’t tell them anything. I knew nothing.”

“What did they ask you?” Menna whispered. Rowan’s seriousness had brought the world to a tiny point in the center of the circle; no one was aware of any sound or movement that was not Rowan and her voice.

Rowan shrugged as though this was unimportant, though of course Will and Legolas had been wondering the same things, “Nothing to help me know who I was. This was three hundred and sixty-two years ago, by my count, so the Royal Bureau was still pretty new. They asked if I had known the royal family, if I knew where they went, if I knew of any underground movement. Things like that. Of course I knew nothing. And really, when you think about it, I didn’t initially know to hate them. If they hadn’t treated me so cruelly, I might never have decided to get into this business of revolution.”

“What made you choose that, though? Slavery? Why didn’t you just go into hiding?” Kai inquired, thinking that he would have disappeared into the woods to never be seen again.

“Well what else was I going to do? I had nowhere to go. I knew no one, not even my own name. I knew that the Royal Bureau was unjust, though, and that the slaves I saw in Kirsoden were being mistreated. There was no meaning to my life, so I decided to give it meaning by living to try and make a difference.”

“That’s heroic,” Menna smiled by way of compliment.

Rowan shook her head, “Not heroic. I don’t try to be. I’m just contrary.”

“And Hecilewen? What’s that?” Will repeated.

“My name. I mean, that’s what the guards who first found me at that house called me. Hecilewen: foundling. It was all I knew to call myself.”

Menna had suddenly gone pensive, but Kai asked, “When did you start using Rowan, then?”

“When you asked me what my name was. There was a rowan tree behind you,” she answered, cracking a smile that made Kai laugh and shove her arm playfully.

“So then your name is really Hecilewen?”

“I’ve come to prefer Rowan, so don’t go changing what you call me. I’d much rather be named after a tree than ‘found—‘”

“No! Rowan!” Menna suddenly gasped, jumping up. “Rowan, Hecilewen doesn’t mean ‘foundling.’ Not at all!” Everyone in the room had turned to look at her at the outburts. The men stared, then muttered to each other over their beer mugs. The dwarven woman glared then went back to knitting.

Rowan gave Menna a suspicious stare and encouraged, “Well what do you think it means then?” Menna clapped her hands and one would have thought, by her excitement, that she had just solved the great mystery of Alrianto. “Well?”

“Hecilewen! It means ‘trustworthy.’ And it’s that symbol you asked me about on the map, the one I couldn’t remember. It means trustworthy.” Rowan felt the color rush to her face. Trustworthy? Why had the guards been calling her – but they must have seen her tattoo. They had seen the tattoo, recognized the meaning, and called her the word. But what did that mean? Had that been why they took her in for questioning, because of her tattoo? Clearly something had led them to believe she should know something, and they had employed various methods of torture to try and extract it. When she had been able to answer none of their questions, though, they had basically turned her free. Surely if she was some important player, they wouldn’t have done so.

“Do we know what that means, though?” Legolas questioned, as though reading Rowan’s thought process. “Your tattoo, Rowan . . .”

The corners of Will’s mouth twitched upwards as he mused, “Well, it’s fitting, though, isn’t it? You’re marked as trustworthy. My father’s men sought you out when they saw you at Benella Plantation, and this Royal Bureau took you in for questioning; it sounds like they expected you to know something.”

“Well, whatever they expected me to know, I didn’t.”

“Was that on purpose, perhaps?” Menna suggested, and Rowan mused that maybe she did have a brain in her head. “I mean . . . people don’t just forget their pasts for no reason. Your tattoo wasn’t new, was it? Which means you were marked as trustworthy before, and probably did know something. Maybe you didn’t just forget; maybe your memory was wiped clean.”

“But how?” Kai pointed out.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe—“

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but it has been suggested that perhaps some of the men you seek are at one of the pubs this very minute,” Gany interrupted, suddenly springing from nowhere. How he knew they were seeking men at all wasn’t questioned. “My two friends have offered to escort one or two of you to the pubs and point them out, if you would like.”

Will made to answer, but Rowan held her hand up for him to wait and inquired, “Gany, do you know of any way to erase someone’s memory?”

“Let’s see . . .” His face puckered up as he thought, and his large eyes rolled around, his lips smacking like a fish. “Well, there are supposedly dark—oh! Well I don’t suppose any of it is still in existence, you know, because the royals tried their hardest to wipe it out—“

“The royals?”

“Yes, the actual royals, before they disappared. It’s why—I’m explaining it backwards.” He looked at Legolas and accused, “You are from Etriena.”

“I—yes? How did you know?”

“Gany smells it on you,” Gany snickered as though this were some excellent joke. “But do you know why Alrianto closed our boarders to your people?”

“No, I didn’t think anyone knew.”

“Because of Glassweed, of course! Just because it isn’t in the books doesn’t mean no one knows it.”

Rowan sighed and took the bait, encouraging sarcastically, “What’s Glassweed?”

“A dark herb that dark men from Etriena brought into the trade circles of Alrianto. In small doses it takes you for a nice little ride. In the right dose, it makes you forget everything except how to breathe and walk. In the wrong dose, it makes you,” and he circled his finger beside his temple while allowing his tongue to loll out the side of his mouth.

“I’ve never heard of this,” Legolas insisted while Rowan’s frown deepened and her brow furrowed in thought.

Gany shrugged, though it was hardly noticeable, “Just because you haven’t heard of it, little Etrienan, means nothing to me.”

Rowan suddenly reached into the bag by her side and, throwing a small sack at Gany, demanded urgently, “This, Gany. Is this Glassweed? Can you recognize it?”

“I’ve heard that Glassweed is bright blue with little specks of . . .” Gany began but trailed off as he gazed down into the bag. His eyes squinted closed, which Rowan had never seen before, and then he quickly pulled the string to shut the bag tight and demanded, “Where did you get this?”

“It is, isn’t it. It’s Glassweed.”

“You have not answered me question,” Gany demanded with more authority than had previously been seen in him.

Rowan seemed unmoved by his firmness and answered calmly, “Warian had it. If anyone would, it would be him, wouldn’t it? Especially,” and here she looked to her travel companions, “if he was their advisor. If the royal family had given orders for it to be destroyed. They had to seize it to destroy it, and all he would have to do is pluck it from the storeroom—“

“Then this is it, don’t you think, Rowan? Someone gave you Glassweed,” Kai summarized. Rowan hesitated, then nodded and didn’t voice the question since everyone was certainly thinking it: but why had someone given Rowan the herb? What secrets had been told to her that needed to be forgotten, and why?

“What should I do with this?” Gany asked, dangling the bag in the air. Rowan looked at the bag for a long second, then rose, took it from him, and quickly crossed the room to toss it in the fire.

Everyone at the table leapt up as Will insisted, “Shouldn’t we have kept it, just in case?”

“What use could we have had to need to make people forget?” Rowan retorted. “The way I see it, this country has forgotten too much already. We need people to start remembering. Glassweed has only caused problems. Besides, I don’t want to use any tool Warian has. Now Gany, about these men . . .”

No one was all that convinced she had made the right decision about so rashly destroying the herb, but then no one knew that another stash of the herb was tucked in her bag. She doubted it would ever be needed, but certainly its existence needed to be kept secret, even from those closest to her.

“Right, right. Who will go?”

Kai suddenly stepped towards Gany with a cocky grin and announced to the group, “Looks like it’s going to be me.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Well you can’t go, Rowan, and Menna can’t either, because she’s a girl.” Menna was clearly not bothered by this. “Will can’t go because if it is his men, they’ll recognize him, and Legolas . . . well, you stand out a bit.”

Of course, as much as Rowan hated to admit it, the little imp was right. He was the only one fit to spy – and he was good at it, anyways. So Gany introduced Kai to the two men, both escaped former slaves that now served to fight the cause. Rowan eyed them suspiciously to determine whether she trusted them, but she trusted Gany, and it was the short man’s wide, watching eyes that had sniffed out several betrayals before.

“I guess the rest of us can go ahead to sleep, can’t we?” Menna asked innocently once Kai had disappeared into the night with the men, referring to one of them as father and the other uncle.

“Go ahead. I’ll wait up for Kai,” Rowan nodded, preferring Menna out of her company anyways. Something about her sweetness made her teeth hurt. “Will, Legolas, you two go as well.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather wait. Make sure the kid makes it back all right,” Will insisted, taking a seat by the fire. The dwarven woman looked him up and down, gave him a toothy grin, then went back to knitting as he watched. Legolas, too, wanted to stay, so Menna was left to follow Gany upstairs. The beds weren’t ideal, but they were certainly preferable to sleeping on the forest floor, and quickly she slipped into restless dreams about her dear father and silly brother and their life that had been so happy by the sea.

Chapter Eleven || Main || Chapter Thirteen