Chapter 27: 27. The House with the Green Door

 

 

- DILLON -

 

I let loose a small breath when the green-painted door opens to reveal a smiling, dark-skinned man. He is short and plump, and his grin is friendly but as he examines me further, his eyes widen. Words rush from his mouth as he steps back and waves a hand. I do not understand half the words he says. He speaks in a dialect I have not heard before.

I pick out some words I am able to decipher. Danger. Need. Ground? He speaks fast, confusing me further. Instinctively, my hand reaches for the dagger at my hip and my heart beats like a drum. Does he know who I am? I am not well enough to fight but I may have no choice.

My palms sweat and my fingers are trembling. When he turns toward someone inside the house, I dare peek at the trees and bushes to my right. I do not see Arellia. Relief floods through me. I snap my attention back to the man.

I hold out a hand to stop his rambling. "Do you speak the common tongue?" I ask in simple Illyan. It seems highly unusual that he does not speak common Illyan when he lives so close to the capital. Dark brown eyes peer back at me, confused. Despite the intense heat, the man does not sweat. Then, he smiles toothily at me and steps back. I hear scratching against the stone floor of the house then at the corner of my eyes, a black and white spotted dog jumps over the threshold. A small laugh escapes me. The dog wags its tail excitedly.

"Come in!" I hear a woman's voice echo from inside. I scratch the dog behind the ear and follow the man into the house. I have to duck to enter. The home is cramped and quiet. The smell of spices and herbs hit me first. Then, the smell of old fabric and wood. Red and gold tapestries hang from the walls alongside small dolls weaved from hay and rope.

At the far end of the room is a kitchen with a small hearth. Dried herbs and plants hang from the ceiling above a small round wooden table. A child of around twelve sits by the table and plays with a wooden toy. An older woman smiles at me as I approach. When he hears my footsteps, the boy bolts upright from his chair and grabs his toy, nearly knocking over a mug.

"Sorry! He didn't mean to scare you!" The woman chuckles. Her accent is thick but pleasant. "I am Luisa. This is my son, Emile and my husband, Perrin." She wipes her hands with a ragged towel and plops it down on the table. Emile holds his toy tightly against his chest as he stares at me, wide-eyed.

The woman is small, back hunched just a touch. Her lips are thin, her bronze skin is loose and webbed with lines and her black hair is streaked with grey. But, there is a twinkle in her eyes when she looks at me. I nod and give an awkward smile.

"I'm Dantoz." I say. I think of the name I made up on that veranda with Arellia. A lifetime ago. The woman tilts her head a little as if she knows I am lying but then she smiles.

"You're not from here." Gracefully, she takes a mug from the counter and walks to a barrel at the corner of the room and scoops some water. My throat itches and I swallow painfully as she hands me the mug. "Drink. It is hot out."

I take the mug from her hastily and bring it to my lips. I chug the water in seconds, closing my eyes and savouring the sweetness of the residual liquid in my mouth. The man laughs behind me and says something I cannot understand.

"You're injured, sit down." The woman takes my mug, scoops more water and waves nonchalantly at a chair. Gingerly, I limp toward the table. The young boy backs away slowly as I approach. I am intruding on a normal family home, it feels awkward. Yet, there is a sense of nostalgia.

"I know it is sudden, but I am travelling out of Orris. I would like to trade for some food and water." I say when I sit down. The plump man takes a seat opposite me and lights his pipe with a long match. The smell of burning herbs and match smoke fills my nostrils.

"You'd be better off taking the merchant's path? There's nothing out here." The woman plops the mug down in front of me and turns back to the counter. I must be careful with my words. If they find out I am currently travelling with their missing princess, I will be killed on the spot. I don't see any weapons on them, nor anywhere around the house. They seem like normal farmers. But, I cannot be too sure.

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"Unfortunately, I can't take that route. I got into a bad brawl over some cards…" I scratch my head. "I think it is safer for me to travel East."

The woman turns around and gives me a sympathetic smile. In her hands is a bowl of rice and vegetables. My mouth waters at the sight.

"Sounds terrible. These city folk have no manners these days." She sits beside her husband. They share a brief look.

"Yes. I don't have much but-"

"No, no! We can never turn down a person in need," She smiles. "Eat up! I will make sure your horse is well fed too." She calls on the young boy. I watch as she speaks to him, but his eyes never leave mine. He is right to be wary of me; a bloodied and scarred foreign man traversing through the country. I chug down the water and gobble down my food with fervour. The man laughs lightly. The boy runs out awkwardly a second later.

"Sorry for him. We don't see many people and he is shy." She takes my mug again and fills it up. "You don't look well enough to travel, Dantoz, why don't you stay a few nights? Get some rest."

"Thank you for your kindness, but I must refuse. I don't want to cause trouble for you, so I must be on my way."

"It's no trouble! You can hardly stand, boy." She says then turns to her husband. I grit my teeth as I watch them converse. If Arellia were here, she could perhaps translate. But, I doubt she will understand the commoner's dialect.

"You have a limp and you look sick, like a shaavi!" She says and walks around the table to examine me. The word is unfamiliar to me. I do not have time to ask her as I see her arm lift in my peripheral vision. Does she have a weapon under her apron? My reflex kicks in and I grab her small wrist before she touches me. She gasps in surprise.

"S-sorry! I was trying to check your warmth!" I let go of her hand quickly, guilt runs through me as I see the look on her face. She seems sincere. I am simply on edge. Why am I getting antsy over an old lady? If she wanted to harm me, she could've poisoned my water or food.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to scare you." I tell her. Her shoulders relax and she places her hand on the back of my neck softly. She makes a small sound and walks away.

"You are very warm, it is not good." I hear the clanking of plates and pots from the kitchen counter. She seems almost frantic when she speaks to her husband. The man puts out his pipe and saunters up the stairs and out of sight. She fills up a pot with water and places it on a hook in the hearth. I watch her take an iron poker and prod at the logs.

I feel an uneasiness wash over me. I have always been a sceptic, but our journey so far has been too smooth. Uncomplicated. Too easy. Vasilis practically let us leave and there have been no sure signs of pursuit. Those lights Arellia spotted were the only issues we encountered. Due to that, we had to divert. Now our journey across the Valley will take longer.

The woman drags a chair beside me and sits down, on the table she places some clean cloth and a pair of sheers. I hunch forward, my left hand clutched tight to the dagger at my hip. Something is amiss. I watch as she cuts the fabric slowly. The pot boils aggressively in the background. My heart thunders. I grab the hilt of my dagger.

"Ah, don't think about it, mercenary." A man's voice echoes from the bottom of the stairs. I flick my eyes to him. In his hands, he holds a firearm and points it at my head. I hold back a laugh. I must be losing my mind to be so trusting of people. I should have known those lights were leading us here the entire time.

I examine the rifle. Made of steel and wood and at the side, a small engraving. Khronish made and most likely sold from Angel's Path. Firearms are highly illegal in Illya as they pride themselves in the arts of physical combat. They are definitely not farmers. Slowly, I pull my hands away from the dagger.

I turn my gaze to the old woman and see her smile toothily at me. Without an accent, she says, "Why don't you tell us why you left your little friend out there in this awful heat, young man?"

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