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    Naya
    Naya
    Naya
    Ebook483 pages8 hours

    Naya

    By Ashley Abbiss

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Urzites – telepathic animals of many species found originally only on the southern island of ‎Urz. ‎
    Receptives - humans who are able to hear the Urzites. Only about one person in eighty or ‎ninety is a Receptive. Most Receptives can only hear the animal who has chosen to be their ‎partner, although there have been recorded instances of very rare people, SuperReceptives, ‎who can hear more than one Urzite. ‎
    The Warden Corps – a government-sanctioned force within which the Receptive-Urzite pairs ‎function. The Wardens and their Urzite partners are mostly used as espionage agents and ‎scouts in the ongoing war with the neighbouring nation of Zeranda, although some are also ‎involved in search and rescue and also in recruitment and the finding of new Receptives.‎

    Hartan got reluctantly to his feet. “I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said as he passed ‎through the door I held open for him.‎
    ‎“Don’t bother. The answer will be the same.”‎
    He turned as he stepped past me, that dreadfully earnest expression on his face again. ‎‎“Naya, you don’t understand!” he said urgently. “You’re a SuperReceptive. Don’t you realise ‎how rare that is?”‎
    ‎“How could I?” I said, wishing he’d just take the hint and leave. I didn’t want to have to ‎slam the door in his face, but it was beginning to look as though that was the only way I was ‎going to get rid of him. “I’d never heard the term before tonight.”‎
    ‎“There have only ever been a handful of SuperReceptives reported,” Hartan said. “Even ‎if we assume that there were as many again that weren’t recorded, that still means only one or ‎two in each generation. We need you, Naya. You can’t just sit here and sell vegetables and ‎ignore such a great gift.”‎
    ‎“Watch me,” I said. “Just because I can talk to more animals than someone else can ‎doesn’t mean I’m going to be a better spy, does it? I don’t want to be a spy, Hartan. I’m ‎perfectly happy with my life the way it is, and that’s my final word.”‎
    He didn’t look happy, but he did at least finally take the hint and leave.‎
    ‎“Take my word for it,” he said as he stepped outside. “You will regret this decision.”‎
    ‎“I somehow doubt that, Hartan, but I’ll take that risk,” I said.‎

    Naya Sheydaughter is perfectly happy running her business as a vegetable seller in her local ‎market. So when recruiter Hartan Igellson comes to town looking for her, she isn’t best ‎pleased, especially since the Wardens are regarded with suspicion in Harat and her neighbours ‎suddenly don’t want to know her any more. ‎

    Learning that she has been identified as a Receptive it’s a case of thanks but no thanks. She ‎has a business to run. She can’t afford to leave it for a month just to find out if some animal ‎might want to be her friend, and she doesn’t want to be a spy anyway. It all seems very ‎straightforward. That is, until the recruiter discovers that she is a very rare SuperReceptive. ‎Determined to bring in the greatest find of his career, he sets about destroying her business ‎and her life in an effort to force her to come with him. ‎

    But Naya is equally determined not to let him win in such an underhand manner. With ‎nothing left to lose, she runs away and takes to the road, determined to rebuild her life ‎somewhere far away from Hartan Igellson, Urzites and the Warden Corps. She has no ‎intention of having anything to do with an outfit that treats her the way Hartan has. ‎
    But will she be left alone to build a future for herself that she actually wants to live? Can she ‎avoid being found when the entire Warden Corps is searching for her, the greatest find in a ‎century? ‎
    Naya is the first book in a new fantasy series. ‎

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAshley Abbiss
    Release dateJan 1, 2017
    ISBN9781370202522
    Naya
    Author

    Ashley Abbiss

    Hello there. I’m Ashley Abbiss. ‎I live and write in beautiful New Zealand, where I live with one large dog, who looks nothing ‎like Friend from my Daughters of Destiny books. She is, however, almost as intelligent and definitely as ‎opinionated, and if she can’t quite speak in the way Friend does to Niari, that doesn’t really ‎hold her back much!‎I write fantasy, mostly of the epic variety. Let me say right up front that if you’re looking for a quick read, you’re in the wrong place. But if you like a substantial, ‎satisfying story that you can really get your teeth into, stick with me. I may have something ‎you’ll enjoy. There’s no graphic sex in my books. If that’s what you want, you’ll have to look ‎elsewhere. There is violence, and there is swearing, though mostly of the ‘s/he swore’ variety, ‎nothing overly graphic or offensive. I also write about strong, independent female characters, ‎so if your taste runs to something more macho, or something more frilly and helpless, this may ‎not be the place for you. ‎I’ve always loved wandering in different worlds, be they fantasy or science fiction, although ‎lately I tend to prefer fantasy. The only proviso is that they have to be believable worlds, ‎worlds that feel real, that have depth and scope – and they must, absolutely must be fun to ‎visit. I read for escape and entertainment, and I don’t really want to escape from this world ‎into one even grimmer. Trouble, tension, and danger I can deal with, what sort of story would ‎there be without them? Where would Pern be without Thread, Frodo without Sauron, Harry ‎Potter without Voldemort? But there has to be hope, and there has to be a light touch. Happy ‎ever after does have a lot going for it, even if initially it’s only a very small light at the end of ‎a long, dark tunnel. My personal favourites include Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy, Anne ‎McCaffrey’s Pern series, and the fantasies of David Eddings, and lately, they’ve been joined ‎by J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and a few others. Of those, David Eddings was probably my ‎greatest inspiration.‎I began to wonder if I could create my own world, one just as believable and multi-layered as ‎theirs. Could I create a world with its own history, geography, social structure, deities, and all ‎the rest? One that hung together? That a reader could believe in? It became a challenge, one I ‎really wanted to see if I could meet. So I dusted off my writing skills, learned a few more, ‎cranked up the imagination, and got busy. I’d always been good at creative writing, but ‎though I’d made a few attempts to write after I left school, none of them came to anything. ‎That was until I started writing fantasy. Suddenly, I knew I’d come home. ‎I quickly discovered that I’m not the sort of writer who can plan a book (or a world!) before I ‎start. I just can’t do it. But I can create characters, and suddenly the characters took on a ‎reality of their own and took over the stories, often to the extent that they actually surprised ‎me. And the stories worked. Their world worked. Sometimes I had to go back and fix the ‎odd contradiction, but mostly it worked and was very natural and organic. Even though my ‎first attempts were pitiful, I knew I’d found where I belong. I persevered, I learned, I wrote. ‎I discovered that the characters are key for me. Once I get them right, they tell their own ‎story. I was away. There were dark days during which my stories became my refuge, my ‎characters my friends. And I kept writing. There were happy times when I didn’t need a ‎refuge, but my characters were still my friends, and they drew me inexorably back. I kept ‎writing. ‎And now, I hope my characters may become your friends too, my worlds ones where you also ‎like to walk; perhaps even your refuge from dark days. Come join me in a world where magic ‎is real and the gods are near, where beasts talk and men and women achieve things they never ‎dreamed they could. But most of all, come and have fun! ‎Happy reading.‎Ash.‎

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      Book preview

      Naya - Ashley Abbiss

      NAYA

      by

      Ashley Abbiss.

      © 2017 Ashley Abbiss.

      Smashwords Edition

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Cover Photo Credits:

      Photo of woman - Copyright: Tiplyashina Evgeniya

      Cover design and editing – Ashley Abbiss

      TABLE OF CONTENTS.

      TITLE PAGE

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

      CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

      CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

      CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

      CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

      CHAPTER THIRTY

      CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

      CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

      CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

      CONNECT WITH ASHLEY ABBISS

      OTHER PUBLICATIONS BY ASHLEY ABBISS

      PREVIEW OF SLINK

      CHAPTER ONE

      The funeral was over. Most of the mourners began to make their way back to town, but I didn’t join them. I stood by the grave and said my last silent goodbyes. After a time, the gravedigger and his assistant stepped forward with shovels in their hands and began to fill in the grave. I turned away then because I didn’t want to see that bit. That was just a bit too final.

      Having to bury the only relative I had left in the world was bad enough. I couldn’t bear to watch the earth being thrown in on top of her, slowly covering her up. Oh, help, I was going to cry again! You’d think that well would have run well and truly dry after the last few days, but no such luck.

      It was late spring and the town burial ground was a sea of mud. I slogged my way through it, unable to see where I was going because of the tears streaming down my face. I tripped over a couple of grave markers with murmured apologies to the occupants of said graves – I didn’t fancy being haunted, thanks all the same – and managed to make it back to the road without turning an ankle, though it was a near thing. The road was slightly less of a quagmire than the burial ground. Sniffing miserably and trying to dry my eyes on my sleeve, I began to walk back to town.

      Everyone else seemed to have gone on ahead. I was glad. I seriously needed some time to pull myself together before I had to host the funeral feast, and I really didn’t need well-meaning neighbours fussing and fluttering right now. They were very kind, and I knew they cared, but there are times when a girl needs some time to herself, and this was definitely one of them.

      Just the funeral feast to get through now, and then I could cry all I wanted to, and lie down and sleep for a whole day if I wanted. I refused to think further ahead than that right now. The future was going to be problematic. I may not have had much sense, but I did have enough to know that the day of Aunt Etra’s funeral was not the time to think about the future. That would keep for, well, the future.

      My name, by the way, the one my mother gave me, is Vorindinaya. Vorindinaya Sheydaughter. Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous? You’ll notice that my mother’s own name was nice and simple – Shey, but she had to saddle me with that preposterous tongue-twister. I’m quite sure she must have made it up. Sometimes I think she must have been the silliest woman who ever lived. And my father must have been the silliest man to let her do it.

      I think that probably had to do with the fact that Mama died shortly after I was born. After that, Papa probably didn’t like to change the name she’d given me, and I was stuck with it. The things parents do to their children! He might have spared a thought for me, having to go through life with that millstone around my neck. Fortunately, most people aren’t all that keen to tie their tonsils in knots just to get my attention, so it almost immediately got shortened to Naya, and there, thankfully, it has remained. I doubt that there are many people now who even remember my full name, which, from where I’m standing, is just as well.

      Actually, I don’t remember either of my parents. Mama died when I was just two days old. Papa stuck around to bring me up, but just before I turned three there was another attempted invasion from the neighbouring country of Zeranda, which seems to think that Lakoon would make an excellent vassal state. They try to annex us every ten years or so, but so far we’ve managed to keep them on their side of the border. That’s been going on for nearly a century. You’d think they’d have learnt by now, wouldn’t you?

      Anyway, when I was nearly three there was a quite serious attempt, and Papa went off to war, along with most of the other men from the surrounding countryside. Most of them came back. My father never did, and I went to live with Aunt Etra, my mother’s sister. Aunt Etra never married, I’m not entirely sure why. It’s not as though she was unattractive or didn’t like men. Maybe she just didn’t like them enough to be bothered keeping one. However it was, there was just her and me from then on.

      Right up until two days ago. Now, there’s just me. There are no more relatives. Aunt Etra was the last of Mama’s family, and my father didn’t come from around here. It’s possible that there are some of his relatives around somewhere, but Aunt Etra didn’t know of any. She said Papa told her he didn’t have any. Which could mean that there weren’t any at all, or simply that there weren’t any he cared to acknowledge.

      Either way, to the best of my knowledge, I was now alone in the world. But I’d be all right. I would have to apply to the town council, of course, but I should be able to take over Aunt Etra’s vegetable barrow in the market. It had provided the two of us with a living for as long as I could remember, it should be sufficient to keep me. And I should be able to take over the lease on the house, too, with a bit of luck. But that was for later.

      Right now, I was nearly home and I could see people going in and out of the house. It looked as though the whole neighbourhood was there. It was time to pull myself together and play hostess. Whatever else happened, I must not dishonour Aunt Etra’s memory by not doing my duty sufficiently well. I nipped between the houses and climbed a couple of the back fences to bring me to the back yard of our house.

      Once there, I blew my nose and washed my face in the rain barrel that stood under the eaves. The water was icy cold, and it felt good on my flushed skin. I straightened my hair as best I could and smoothed my skirt, which had got a bit rumpled with the fence-hopping. Then I plastered the best smile I could manage on my face and went to do my duty by my aunt.

      I got through it all right in the end. There was plenty of food and drink to keep everyone happy. It was hard having everyone I spoke to tell me how sorry they were about Aunt Etra or start reminiscing about this, that, or the other thing, but then, I suppose it would have been harder still if no one had cared. I did my best to smile and nod and appreciate their sentiments and good wishes, but it was hard work, and by the time I managed to push the last of them out the door I was exhausted.

      I locked the door and, although it was only the middle of the afternoon, I closed the shutters in the hope that people would take the hint and not bother me. I sat down in my chair in the half-dark, suddenly painfully aware of the empty chair on the other side of the fire and the empty gaping hole in my life. Oh, no, here we go again?

      I must have cried myself to sleep because I woke up with a horrendous crick in my neck and a face stiff and sticky with dried tears. The half-light had deepened into true night, the fire had died, and I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I got up and groped along the mantle over the fire until I found the lamp. The tinderbox was always right beside it, but I’ve always hated doing that, so I poked at the fire and managed to unearth a couple of embers that still had some life in them.

      By dint of careful feeding, I managed to coax the fire back into life. I opened the shutters so I could see what time it was. About halfway between midnight and dawn, I thought, from the look of the sky. I closed the shutters again and lit the lamp. I didn’t think I’d sleep any more now. I put the kettle on the fire, got out the things to make tea, and sorted through the remains of the funeral feast for something to eat. I hadn’t been hungry before, but now I was ravenous. Crying your eyes out will do that for you, I’ve found.

      Well, I’d done enough of that. Now it was time to think about what came next. It was going to be lonely without Aunt Etra, but life should go on pretty much as usual. I thought about it as I ate my food and sipped my tea. There were a few administrative details that would have to be taken care of as soon as I could manage them. I’d have to check whether Aunt Etra’s licence to trade was transferable, in which case I could just carry on, since I was her heir, or terminated at her death. I rather suspected the latter. Catch the Guildhall missing a chance to make money!

      In that case, I’d have to apply for one of my own, but that should be a mere formality. We were well-known traders with a good reputation. There shouldn’t be any problems. There was bound to be a fee to pay, but I should be able to manage that without too much trouble. We weren’t exactly what you’d call wealthy, but we managed to live comfortably enough. There would certainly be enough to pay for any licence I needed. The next thing was to see the owner of our house about taking over the lease myself. Again, I didn’t foresee any major problems. We were good tenants. We’d always paid our rent on time, and we took good care of the place.

      I would have liked to take a bit more time to get over Aunt Etra’s death, but sadly, life goes on. I had a living to make, especially if I was going to have to pay for a new licence, and growers who didn’t want to spend their time standing around the market all day, or who didn’t want to pay out for a trader’s licence, relied on us – well, me now – to buy their produce. They were willing to accept a lower price so they could get back to their farms, and we then sold the stuff on at a profit to ourselves. The growers didn’t have to waste their time in the market, we made a living, and the townsfolk still got their fruit and vegetables at a reasonable price. Something for everyone.

      But I couldn’t do anything until I sorted out the licence. The fines for unlicensed trading were not pretty. So, on the morning after the funeral I put my best dress back on, groomed myself with care, and headed for the Traders’ Guildhall, thanking the gods that I didn’t have to traipse all the way to another town to get my bit of business done. Harat isn’t that big a town, but it does happen to boast the district’s Traders’ Guildhall, which was very convenient for me at that moment.

      I was just about to go up the steps when the doors swung open as someone pushed them from within. Without even thinking about it I paused, mainly, I think, because everybody else had. Those near enough to the doors to be able to see in as they opened suddenly went still and a couple turned away. Obviously, something out of the ordinary was going on up there.

      I was still processing what I’d seen when the doors opened all the way and a man came out; a man wearing a dark cloak and a close-fitting black hood. But it was the medallion hanging around his neck that immediately explained the reactions of the onlookers. A Warden. As he crossed from the doors to the first step someone spat on the ground. The Warden turned on his heel and looked around, but all that met him were bland and rather sullen stares.

      He gave each one a hard look before turning back and resuming his progress, bounding down the steps and passing me as he strode away. Everyone stared after him, me included. Perhaps it was just my prejudice showing, but there seemed to be something rather arrogant in the way he walked.

      The Wardens were one of those necessary things that one wouldn’t want to be without but that no one likes, perhaps for precisely that reason. We don’t like to feel dependent on someone else, especially people we don’t really understand and to whom we have to pay tithes. Everyone knows that without the Wardens we’d have been taken over by Zeranda years ago, but no one knows quite what they do or how they prevent the Zerandans from invading. That makes people suspicious, and of course, in the absence of knowledge, the rumours and theories fly.

      Some of them are quite fantastic. Some talk of magic, others of dark rites, although no one seems to know exactly what those dark rites consist of. There’s even been talk of human sacrifice and the abduction of young women, although again, no one seems to be able to point to any specific young woman who’s gone missing. I’ve even heard rumours of dragons. Dragons, I ask you. Maybe that’s where the young women disappear to. Don’t the legends say that dragons eat young women or something?

      Anyone with half a brain knows that most of the talk is complete nonsense, but it still adds to the mystery and the suspicion and the whole atmosphere that surrounds the Wardens. Others talk of espionage and intelligence-gathering, which to my mind is much more likely, but again, it just adds an aura of mystery. Of course, there’s also the fact that they keep very much to themselves and so aren’t seen very often, and the fact that we have to pay a tithe to fund them.

      And let’s face it, everyone hates having to pay taxes, and by extension, the person they have to pay them to. Since the Wardens send a representative once a year to collect their portion of the tax take, that only makes people dislike them all the more. Especially since that’s normally the only time they’re seen.

      Which brought me neatly back to this one, and what he was doing here in town, and more particularly in the Traders’ Guildhall. It wasn’t tax time, and anyway, that would be collected from the Town Hall, not the Guildhall. Very mysterious; but none of my business, which was to get myself licensed so I could continue to trade – and to pay the bills. I gave myself a little shake and proceeded up the steps and into the hall.

      Three clerks sat at a long table just inside the door. Two were busy writing on sheets of parchment, so I approached the one in the middle, who appeared to be free, and explained my problem. As I’d thought, my aunt’s licence had been a personal one and had expired at her death. What I hadn’t expected was that I couldn’t get my own one without serving a three-month probationary period first.

      That rankled quite a bit. I wasn’t some novice just starting out. I’d been trading for years. Eight years, in point of fact, since I was fourteen, and Aunt Etra had made sure I knew the business inside out. But, as the man behind the table pointed out to me, I’d been trading under Aunt Etra’s licence, so I wasn’t known to the Guild, and rules were rules.

      Huffing in irritation, I had no choice but to pay the fee and take the probationary licence if I wanted to be able to work. Which meant, of course, that I’d have to come back in three months’ time and pay another fee for a full licence, always supposing that there were no complaints against me in the meantime. I had to give my full name, of course, and as I told it to the man in front of me, I suddenly found all three of them staring at me.

      Yeah, I know, I grinned. It’s a stupid name. Blame my mother.

      That was my usual comeback when someone commented or otherwise reacted to my name. They didn’t smile. The two who had been writing returned to their work, but there was a tension in the air that I could almost taste. Something was off here. What’s the problem? I asked the guy I was dealing with quietly. My name’s not that horrifying, is it?

      There was a Warden in here a short time ago, he murmured, with a glance at his fellows.

      Yes, I saw him come out as I was about to come in.

      He was asking about you.

      About me? I was so astonished that my voice squeaked like an adolescent boy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the others glance up at me and then quickly return his gaze to his parchment.

      He wanted to know where Vorindinaya Sheydaughter lived.

      What did you tell him? I asked.

      The man shrugged. That we didn’t know you, he said. It was your aunt who was registered with us, not you. He finished filling out my temporary licence. There you are. You will have to replace that with a full licence on the twenty-seventh day of SummerThree, assuming all goes well, of course. That’ll be half a crown.

      I almost caught my breath. Half a crown just for three months? That was a bit steep. What could I do, though? No licence, no income. That’s quite a lot, I said carefully. How much is the full licence, then? I thought I’d better find out about that so I could start saving.

      A full licence is a full crown, the clerk said, but this half-crown counts towards it and if you pass the probationary period without trouble, the full licence is considered to begin today.

      That was a little better, although a crown was still quite a bit of money. I began to see why so many people were happy to sell their goods outside the gates rather than purchase their own licence. I see, I said. Thank you.

      I fished out the requisite coin and handed it over and received my authorisation to trade. I thanked the clerk and left the Guildhall with a lot more to think about than when I entered. Why would a Warden be looking for me? The thing didn’t begin to make a scrap of sense to me. I didn’t know any Wardens. I’d only ever seen one in my entire life before today, and that at a distance.

      My aunt and I were up to date with our taxes, so we didn’t owe them anything. At least, I didn’t think we did. Aunt Etra was always very careful about things like that, but I supposed there could have been a mistake somewhere. I’d better add checking on our – my – tax standing to my list of things to do. It really didn’t pay to get behind with things like that. The authorities could get really nasty if you got in arrears.

      However, that could wait. I didn’t really have time to think about it right then. I’d already missed a couple of days’ trading with Aunt Etra’s funeral and the preparations for it, and while we did reasonably well, I couldn’t afford to miss too many days if I wanted to be able to continue paying the bills. Clutching my licence, I hurried home to get the barrow and get to work.

      I was running late because of my visit to the Guildhall, and the best of the produce would be gone if I didn’t hurry. I virtually jogged home and dragged the barrow out of the shed, not even taking the time to change out of my best dress. It wasn’t until I was trundling the barrow toward the gate that I realised this morning felt different, and it wasn’t just because Aunt Etra wasn’t beside me.

      It was such a surprising realisation that it took me a couple of minutes to put my finger on why. Aunt Etra and I had always been a team. We’d worked together and I’d never felt any inferiority to her. I knew every aspect of the business as well as she did, and she trusted me with every part of it. I knew exactly how much we made, what we paid in tax, everything.

      And yet, I realised with a jolt, she’d been the one who held the licence; she’d been the one who owned the barrow. She’d never made an issue of it, but technically and legally, the business had belonged to her. Now, it belonged to me. That was the difference this morning.

      I touched the new licence, carefully folded into my pocket. As of about half an hour ago, I was a trader in my own right. It was a good feeling, and my shoulders went back and my head went up just a little bit as I walked. I still missed Aunt Etra’s presence beside me, but I began to realise that being my own person could be good, too.

      CHAPTER TWO

      Aunt Etra always maintained that you had to get to the gate by the time it opened if you wanted to get the best produce, but I didn’t do too badly even though I was a bit late. I think it might be a bit of a myth that all the best produce is there by dawn because the stuff I found was very good quality and I sold everything I bought, apart from a few things I put aside for my own dinner. I was pleased with the day’s work as I shoved the barrow back in the shed and went inside to reckon up the day’s take, carefully laying aside the twenty-five percent that I would have to pay in tax.

      It was as I was doing so that I realised working on my own was going to require a bit of adaptation. Aunt Etra always insisted on paying each day’s tax as it came to hand. Therefore, each morning, one of us would head to the gate to do the buying while the other trotted off to the Town Hall with the previous day’s tax. Quite obviously, that wasn’t going to work now. There was another problem, too. With Aunt Etra there it had been easy for one or the other of us to grab a break, but now I couldn’t leave the barrow. I’d had to grab a couple of pieces of fruit off the barrow today or I wouldn’t have had any lunch.

      I put the takings away and began to prepare my dinner while I thought it through. There had to be a way to do it. There were plenty of traders who worked alone. I tried to think what I had seen them do as I cooked my dinner, but I couldn’t remember. It’s amazing how much we don’t even notice because it doesn’t seem important at the time. I supposed I could ask someone, but that would mean waiting until at least tomorrow, and then whatever it was might not work for me. No, it was probably best to come up with my own solution if I could. I supposed the best way would be to offer to trade off breaks with another sole trader.

      In fact, now that I came to think of it, I was pretty sure that was what most of them did. You can’t work the same market for years without getting to know most of the other traders. I’d sound a few out in the morning and see what I could work out. That just left how to pay my taxes. I liked the idea of paying each day, as Aunt Etra had. It helped prevent mistakes, and you didn’t miss the money if you got rid of it straight away. I really wanted to keep on with that if I could.

      I thought it over as I ate my food, but the only solution that seemed viable was to finish work half an hour early each day, come home and cash up, then go back to the Town Hall and hand in my taxes. The half hour probably wouldn’t make much difference. Most people did their food shopping early and I got very little trade by the middle of the afternoon anyway. Having to come home and then walk back into town didn’t really thrill me, though. It wasn’t really all that far – I think I said before that Harat isn’t that big a town. It was just a pain, that was all. Maybe I could do it twice a week or something instead. I’d have to think about it.

      I finished my meal and cleaned up, then locked the day’s takings away and wondered what to do next. Usually, Aunt Etra and I would sit and talk, or maybe play cards or something, or now and then we’d head down to the local tavern for an hour or two. But she wasn’t here, of course, and suddenly I found myself at a loose end. The house felt awfully empty without my aunt’s personality filling it up. She had a big personality and she tended to dominate any space she was in.

      If I sat around here I was going to get depressed, and I could live without that, thanks all the same. I’d cried enough the last few days. I probably ought to have been ready for bed after my strange sleeping pattern the night before, but I wasn’t. I grabbed some money and headed for the local tavern. With luck, I might meet some of the other traders and be able to sort out the break problem before I got to work the next day.

      Our local tavern is a cheerful place. It’s just a small neighbourhood bar, and almost nobody comes in except locals, so everybody knows each other, and it’s all very friendly and relaxed. It was the same that night as I approached it. Golden light, which I knew would be a mixture of lamplight and firelight, shone out of the open door, and there was a happy babble of voices and laughter that flowed out with it.

      Until I stepped into the doorway. Suddenly, you could have heard a pin drop, and everyone was staring at me. It was quite horribly disconcerting, and I felt myself blushing.

      What? I said in an attempt at levity. Do I have food on my chin or something?

      Anything to break that horrible tension. What was going on here? Life had become seriously weird since Aunt Etra had been gone. A few people tittered, and most of them turned back to whatever they’d been doing before my entrance disrupted it.

      Evening, Naya, Wilx the publican said in a slightly too hearty voice. The usual?

      Yes, please, I said, wandering up to the bar. I leant over it a little. What was all that about? I whispered.

      There was a Warden in here asking for you, Wilx whispered back.

      In here? For me? My brain seemed to have jammed. Goodness knows what my face looked like because Wilx looked truly alarmed.

      Here, he said. Don’t you faint on me!

      I’m not going to faint! I said scathingly. When did I ever faint?

      There’s a first time for everything, Wilx said sagely. Here. He pushed a jug of ale and a cup towards me. Go sit down before you fall down.

      I fumbled in my purse for the money to pay him, but he stopped me with a hand on my wrist. On the house, he said. In memory of your aunt. Go sit.

      I managed a smile of thanks before I turned and stumbled to a table with my ale. I deliberately chose the nice shadowy one between the inglenook and the front wall. I had some serious thinking to do, and I didn’t really fancy company right then. I sat down, poured my first cup of ale, and sat sipping it as I turned over the events of the day in my mind.

      Impossible not to relate the two appearances of a Warden, of course. It seemed the man I’d seen this morning was busily tracking me down, and he was getting closer. It appalled me a little that he’d been able to track me to my local tavern. Presumably, he must have gone on asking for me around town until he found someone who knew me well enough to know which tavern I frequented. That gave me a really creepy feeling.

      First of all, there was just the simple fact of being pursued and not knowing why, especially coming right on the heels of Aunt Etra’s death. Now that I thought about it, it didn’t make sense that it could be about taxes. Surely any complaint about that would simply be made at the Town Hall. They were the ones charged with the collection, after all, so they were the logical ones to chase down any defaulters. There was no need for a Warden to chase someone down in person just for a few crowns.

      So, why was this person trying so hard to find me? Secondly, it shocked me that someone I knew would betray me like that. It had to be someone I knew, and knew fairly well, because they’d known to send him here. It crossed my mind to wonder why they hadn’t sent him to the house, but I was far more concerned right at that moment with the fact that someone had betrayed me to a Warden.

      People didn’t like Wardens. People didn’t trust Wardens. People would not betray someone else to a Warden. Yet someone had. Someone I knew. Maybe someone in this very room right now. A shiver ran up my spine and left me feeling cold all over. It’s nasty when you think you know people and then something happens that tells you you were wrong and you don’t know them at all. It kind of shakes you up, if you know what I mean.

      All the time that I was sitting there drinking my ale I was aware of people staring at me, but no one bothered to speak to me. That hurt. These were my neighbours, people I’d considered my friends, people who’d been at Aunt Etra’s funeral yesterday, who’d been inside my house, eating my food at the funeral feast afterwards, and now they were acting as though they didn’t even know me – or didn’t want to.

      And for that, I didn’t doubt for a moment that I could thank the interest of my shadowy pursuer, the Warden. No one wanted anything to do with someone who was even by implication involved with the Wardens. And yet, I thought bitterly, someone obviously thought it quite all right to tell him all about me.

      It was bad enough when I lost Aunt Etra. But now my life was turning into some kind of horrible nightmare where even my friends didn’t want to know me any longer. I couldn’t raise my eyes without meeting those of someone who was staring, and who would then look quickly away, embarrassed. It was fairly uncomfortable, but I was damned if I was letting them drive me away before I finished my ale, so I did both them and me a favour and swapped chairs so I had my back to them.

      I could still feel their eyes boring into my back, but at least I didn’t have to see them. I poured out my second cup of ale and worked at ignoring the lot of them. I retreated into my thoughts. Given the nature of them, that wasn’t all that pleasant a place to be, either, but it was still better than sitting there feeling people’s eyes boring holes in the back of my skull. I began to make a mental list of the things I needed to do tomorrow. At least that wasn’t quite as bad to think about.

      Evening, Naya, a voice said right behind me, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

      Taynar laughed. Scare you? Sorry. He moved into my line of sight and nodded to the second chair. Mind if I sit?

      I looked up at the boy I’d grown up living next door to. Well, man, now. He was a couple of years older than me, hardly a boy any more. Are you really sure you want to? You’re likely to catch it, you know.

      Catch what?

      The Warden disease. The one that’s making them all avoid me.

      You heard about that, then? he asked, sitting down and stretching out his long legs.

      Wilx told me when I came in. And I saw the Warden at the Traders’ Guildhall this morning. He’d been asking about me there, too. At least, I assume it must have been the same one.

      Any idea what he wants?

      I shook my head mutely.

      Sure?

      Of course I’m sure. The only thing I can think of is some sort of problem with our tithes, but I can’t think what would be serious enough for a Warden to bother hunting me down in person. I mean, if there was that big a discrepancy, you’d think it would be noticeable, wouldn’t you? Besides, Aunt Etra was always very conscientious about that sort of thing.

      Taynar grunted. Odd.

      Tell me about it.

      He laughed. Then he folded his legs under him and leant forward so he could lower his voice and still be heard by me. All right. Let’s think this through. What do we know about Wardens, and why would they be looking for you?

      Not a lot, and I have no idea.

      Be serious, Naya. I’m sure you want to know what this is all about even more than I do.

      Yes, of course I do. But it’s true, Tay. What do we really know about the Wardens? And I have absolutely no idea why a Warden would be looking for me.

      That’s why we have to figure it out, Tay said easily. All right. I agree that we know almost nothing about Wardens for certain, but what do people say? Let’s start with the stuff that might conceivably be true. I don’t think we need to bother with human sacrifice and other absurdities.

      I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It felt good, actually, and I realised I hadn’t been doing a lot of that lately.

      That’s better, Tay said. Okay, I’ll go first, and then it’s your turn. One: Wardens are supposed to be something to do with our defence against Zeranda.

      And that’s really about all anyone knows, I said.

      Not good enough, Tay said, shaking his head. Come on, Naya, we’ve got to try and work this out.

      I was just saying, I protested. Give me a chance.

      He laughed. Come on, then.

      Well, we have to pay them tithes, I said. That’s a fact.

      And the tax collectors collect those tithes on their behalf, so they must be sanctioned by the King, mustn’t they? Tay said.

      Yes, I said, a little surprised. I never really thought about that before, but they must be.

      And I know the government doesn’t thrill anyone very much, but I don’t really see them consorting with the forces of darkness, do you? So, all those really wild stories are probably just that.

      Yes, I said again, beginning to feel better. If the King authorises them, they can’t be really evil.

      See? Tay said. We’re starting to get somewhere.

      That doesn’t mean they can’t be fairly awful, though, I said. I’ve met some government officials who were pretty nasty.

      Yes, but not downright evil like some of the stories about the Wardens, Tay said. That’s my point. Arrogance, or petty tyranny, or even corruption, aren’t in quite the same league as human sacrifice and consorting with demons.

      Okay. Yes. I see.

      So, we’ve decided that they’re not demons, that they are in fact, some kind of government-sanctioned and appointed part of our defence against Zeranda. Do we agree on that?

      Yes, I think so, I said. Some sort of special force, maybe. I was feeling a bit less alarmed by then. Tay was succeeding in humanising the Wardens. I still wasn’t thrilled to have one chasing around after me, but at least Tay had cut them down to size, now.

      Tay nodded. Precisely, he said. I don’t think we can take that much further than that, though. There just isn’t enough known about the Wardens, and if we try we start running into absurdities.

      Most people believe they’re spies too, don’t they? I said. And what about magic? They’re supposed to be magicians, aren’t they?

      You don’t think that magic’s one of the absurdities? Tay asked.

      I don’t know, I said slowly. There are plenty of people who believe in magic, and there are plenty of things that we don’t know about, so I think it’s possible. I know Aunt Etra believed in it, and she wasn’t exactly what you’d call gullible.

      Tay gave a snort of laughter. No, not really. I don’t think anyone would consider your aunt gullible. Not for long, anyway. So, we’ll allow for the possibility of magic, and I really do think that’s as far as we can go, don’t you?

      Yes, I think so.

      So, we now have a group of people who are sanctioned by our King, who may or may not use magic, and who are involved in some way in the defence of this nation against Zeranda, possibly by way of espionage.

      I nodded.

      All right then, Tay said. Next question. What does such a group of people, or at least one of them, want with you?

      I don’t know, I said. I hated saying it because I knew he was going to jump on it, but what else could I say?

      To my surprise, he didn’t jump. No, I don’t know, either, he sighed. Apart from the tithe thing, which I agree doesn’t really make sense, I can’t think of a single reason.

      So, we just give up? I asked, feeling a bit disappointed.

      Good heavens, no! We start guessing. So, come on, what reasons could there be for a group of defenders of the realm and possible spies to be interested in a young woman from a small town?

      I screwed up my face. If not for the simple reason that I’ve never left this district in my life, I’d think they thought I had some information, or maybe was a spy myself, I said. I looked at Tay. I suppose they could have mistaken me for someone else.

      Tay grimaced. He was asking for you by your full name, he pointed out. How many women do you think there are named Vorindinaya Sheydaughter?

      I deflated slightly. Approximately one, I said wryly.

      Tay grinned. So, it’s unlikely that he’s mistaken, and it’s also unlikely that anyone would just happen to use your name as an alias, which means you are the one he wants, he said.

      My stomach started to churn with dread. He tapped the back of my hand where it lay on the table.

      Don’t look like that, he said. Now, since you haven’t been anywhere, he can’t think you’re a spy or anything. Unless there’s been a mistake somewhere else. But again, why would they latch onto your name? That doesn’t make sense. No, I think mistaken identity is a washout. It’s definitely you he’s wanting. So, what else is there? Could you have something he wants?

      I don’t see how.

      You haven’t found any rolled-up parchments hidden inside one of your carrots or anything, have you? he grinned at me.

      Don’t be ridiculous!

      He laughed. What about something of your father’s? he asked suddenly. He wasn’t from around here, was he?

      No, but he died about twenty years ago. They’ve left it a bit late, haven’t they?

      Maybe they’ve only just found out where he was living, Tay said.

      "I suppose that’s possible,

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