Chapter 8
Thieves on the Road
They did not get an early start the next morning.
Gild the healer had seven children, so he knew all about taking care of them, and he said Rosy’s coat wouldn’t keep her warm. It had holes in the elbows, and something with pointy teeth had tried to eat the collar.
So they waited in town for the shops to open, and Cale bought Rosy a new coat. It was brown like Hamal’s, but hers had little red buttons. Following Gild’s suggestions, Cale bought Rosy many other things as well: two pairs of mittens, one pair blue and the other red; a new pair of boots; some thick stockings; and a big hat that covered nearly half her face.
In the shop where they purchased the knitted items, Hamal knelt down in front of little Rosy and adjusted the hat on her head. It was a hat for a man, and she was just a girl.
“No one will be able to see your eyes,” Hamal joked, and only later did he realize that was the point. Cale had done it on purpose, to hide her eyes that reflected the gods.
When it was time to leave for Gallank Tree, Rosy didn’t want anyone to touch her, which made getting her up onto a horse rather difficult.
Hamal held out his hand to her, and her eyes grew wide and she shied away. So, on the muddy street in front of the inn, he squatted down and tried to explain things. “Rosy, I am not going to hurt you. All I will ever do is heal you. That’s my job, and healing is all I know. I have very gentle hands, and you can trust me.”
She shook her head, staring at him.
He tried again. “Do you see this very fine horse right here? His name is Sill, like a windowsill. I don’t know why that’s his name—I didn’t name him. But he’s a nice horse, and he’ll take us where we need to go. The problem is, you will need to ride with me. We don’t have another horse for you, so you’ll need to go on my horse. Do you think you could do that? I won’t hurt you, Rosy,” he said again.
Every time he looked at this child, he thought of the bad place from his dream and wanted to wrap his arms around her and make large promises. But certain things he couldn’t promise until his grandfather arrived and they talked about it.
It took some coaxing, but eventually Hamal and Cale managed to get Rosy up onto Hamal’s horse with him, where she sat like a fabric-wrapped stone. Hamal tried to engage her in conversation, hoping to win at least a nod from her, but she didn’t do anything except sit there in an untouchable kind of silence.
At the outskirts of town, he pointed to a muddy field full of cows—he liked cows—and told her everything he knew about them and how their horns worked. He thought maybe she would like to hear about their horns, because she was a child and children often liked poky things, but she didn’t respond at all.
“I don’t know very much about children,” Hamal whispered to Cale when they stopped for a quick meal that afternoon in a quiet place off the road.
Cale was watching the road, his hand on his sword hilt. Glancing down at the weapon, Hamal remembered what his friend had said about thieves in the North Territory.
“Why do I doubt that?” Cale replied.
“Well, sometimes they cry even when nothing is wrong. There’s nothing for me to heal. They aren’t in any pain, and still they’re crying.” He hesitated and then nodded toward Rosy, who was sitting on the ground a short distance away with her legs pulled up underneath her. Quietly he added, “And sometimes children should cry, but they don’t.”
For the rest of the day, Rosy rode on Hamal’s horse with him, his arms around her, and he knew exactly how afraid she was.
But gradually something started to shift. He began to feel the fear leaking out of her bones, growing less and less as the day continued. Every time he caught sight of her eyes, which wasn’t very often, they were ordinary and brown, the way most eyes were. Today she looked like just a child, so Hamal didn’t understand why Cale and Masly both shied away from her when they stopped that night and made camp.
When Hamal asked, Cale replied, “You said she shadows a god, Hamal.”
“Well, yes, but she’s just a child. I don’t think we need to be afraid of her.”
Cale smiled a bit, but something about it was sad. “I saw many things today, Hamal. Many things about your friend Rosy, and many things involving her. As did Masly. There is a reason you are the one taking care of her. I think it is good for you to care for her, and I also think it is good for the rest of us to maintain our distance. At least until we know more.”
Gregory had been listening nearby, and he came over to say, “That’s how it is in all the stories, Hamal. Oracles are separate from the other gifts. No one really knows what to expect from the gods anymore, and so they avoid the gift that represents them. Hellan, the oracle who traveled with your grandfather, was described as aloof and distant. She wasn’t cruel, but neither was she friendly. She did her job, and as soon as the Barrow Wars ended, she disappeared from the city. No one ever saw her again.”
“Some people saw her again,” Hamal said.
Gregory’s face twitched. “Well, yes, I suppose that someone, somewhere, did see her again. But my point is that she didn’t like people and left the city. We should assume Rosy is the same manner of person and allow her to be left alone, which she obviously wishes to be.”
Hamal didn’t say anything. He frowned at Gregory for a long moment. Did Gregory not know the story? But he knew everything. “They got married.”
Cale and Gregory looked at him.
“Pardon?” said Cale.
“Who?” said Gregory.
They both answered at the same time, which was funny, and so Hamal laughed. “My grandfather and Hellan, of course. They liked each other, so they decided to get married, and they did, and then they left the city. Neither of them liked the city very much, so they went up to Fairs Gate, in the woods, and they lived up there for years and years. Did you know the North Woods are so big that you can travel for miles and miles and never find the other side? It’s amazing!”
“He married her?” Gregory demanded.
“Well, yes. Shel told me she knew about important things—that is, she knew what things were important and what things weren’t.” Hamal shrugged.
“He…married her?” Gregory said again, fishing out his notepad and pencil. His hands were shaking for some reason.
“Did they have children, Hamal?” Cale asked calmly.
“Yes, two—a boy and a girl. Their names were Eshmal and Sallia. Readers, both of them, and Sallia liked to write books. She wrote many books.”
Gregory swallowed hard. “Sallia Galen Sora,” he whispered. “She studied trees, and she wrote volumes about the bark and roots and tonics that could be made from the leaves. All her books are preserved in the King’s Library. I’ve read them. She was brilliant.” His voice cracked. “She was related to you, Hamal? Shel’s daughter?”
Hamal nodded. “Sallia was my aunt.”
Cale’s silver eyes blinked. “She was your aunt?”
“Aye. She’s buried in the woods she loved.”
“But was she not a sage?”
“No, she was a reader. Didn’t I say that? Didn’t I say she and her brother were both readers?” Hamal groaned and rubbed his mittened hands over his ears. “All this coldness is making it hard for me to remember the things I said!”
Gregory said slowly, “So the sage gift doesn’t always produce sages.”
“It doesn’t always, no. My grandfather, you know—well, he’s been married many times. Many, many times. My father says he’s a rogue, and I think that means Shel likes being married.”
The corner of Cale’s mouth tilted. “How many times has your grandfather been married?”
Hamal lowered his voice as he said, “Three times, that I know of. Three times. The rest of us can’t believe it. He has quite a reputation, my grandfather.”
Cale and Gregory traded a look.
“Thousands of years,” Gregory said. “Shel Galen must be thousands of years old, and he gets married all of three times, and his family thinks he’s wild.”
“Quite the rogue indeed,” Cale remarked dryly. “Hamal, how many children did Shel have altogether?”
“I’m not sure. Eight, I think?”
“And how many of those children are sages?”
“Just one. My father.”
Cale’s eyes narrowed. “How many children does your father have? How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“Four.”
“And you are the only sage among them.”
Hamal smiled. “You can see all my secrets, Cale. Because you’re a seer.”
Cale returned his smile, laughing quietly. “I am just trying to understand you.”
“What’s to understand? I can heal things. I like sweet meats and warm places to live, and I greatly enjoy the name Rosy.”
Rosy looked over from the fire. Hamal waved to her.
Cale laughed softly. “Go sit with your charge, Hamal.” His eyes narrowed. His expression darkened. “Keep her calm, if you can.”
Hamal looked at him quickly. “What does that mean?”
“We were followed from Redsprin. Tonight we expect thieves.”
Half an hour later, Hamal heard approaching hoof beats, and Will Chiodo came riding into camp, his sand wolf slinking into the circle of firelight behind him.
“We’re about to have company,” the charter told Cale. “Five men approach on the road. Three are flamemakers, and you’ve got an archer and a jeweler as well. The jeweler is leading them.”
The thieves. Hamal’s heart took a wild leap up his throat.
“Men from Redsprin?” Masly asked.
Will nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
“Did they see you?” Ermond the flamemaker asked.
Hamal looked at Masly in surprise as the seer started laughing.
“You have never worked with a charter, have you?” Masly said to Ermond.
“They will be here in less than four minutes,” Will said.
Masly looked over at Cale. “The archer could cause some difficulty.”
Hamal winced. Archers never missed. He had healed several of them, and the inside of their ears was shaped differently. They could hear the heartbeat of a deer from a hundred paces and put an arrow through the creature while blindfolded. Cale said that when archers hunted other men, it was never very pleasant.
Cale pointed at the team members he wanted. “Chestirad, Hainn, Kolling, Masly. Let’s head them off.”
Kolling plucked the brace of rabbits from her saddle and tossed them to Gild, who was in charge of supper tonight. Then the two seers, the weathermaker, the flamemaker, and the archer disappeared into the early evening shadows. Hamal shivered as he watched them go.
Their campsite was a bowshot from the road, and thick scrub brush trees stood guard around them. Each person was good at what they did; the moment Cale’s party stepped into the trees, Hamal lost track of them. The whisper of wind through the scrub brush masked most sounds.
With a sigh, he turned back to Rosy and found her watching him. “Cold?” he asked. “I am. Let’s go sit with Gild.”
She had ridden close to him all day, and she must be getting used to him because when they sat next to the fire, she sat down beside him. She set her blue-mittened hands in her lap and watched as Gild went about making supper.
“Something you should know,” Hamal told her.
Her brown gaze swung up to meet his.
“I’m not a good cook,” he said as she stared at him. “I’m not. I’ve never been able to figure it out! I burn things. And I tend to think things would taste good together when they really wouldn’t. Burned bread and garlic aren’t good together, for instance. And adding tomatoes does not help. It just makes everything taste like tomatoes, and that’s not always a good idea. Do you know how to cook, Rosy?”
He meant it in jest, and as he teased her, another thought occurred to him. “Do you like dolls? Most little girls like dolls, don’t they?”
Something passed through her eyes. Good or bad, he couldn’t tell, but he waited, and slowly her head bent forward in a shallow, faint movement that could have been a nod. He decided it was, and he smiled. “Dolls are important, aren’t they? We will find you a doll. A good doll.”
She stared at him.
Shouts erupted in the trees behind them. Rosy jerked and looked over her shoulder, but Hamal leaned toward her until their shoulders touched and said, “Never mind that, Rosy. We don’t need to worry about that. Everything will be all right.”
And so, they waited.
The first man to return to camp was Chestirad. He had one unconscious body slung over his shoulder and was dragging a second through the dirt, his large hand wrapped around the man’s collar.
“They’re alive,” he said as Hamal stood up. “Just a little overcome, is all.” Laughing at his own joke, he dropped both bodies on top of each other and, with a lazy toss of his hand, made a second fire next to them to keep the men warm.
Chestirad was one of the biggest, meanest-looking men Hamal knew. His normal expression was a scowl, and his nose had been smashed more than once. Probably ten times, Hamal decided. He carried more knives than a kitchen, and he was dangerous, but then he thought about things like keeping unconscious men warm. He had a good heart, buried somewhere in that hulking form.
“Going back for their horses,” Chestirad announced to no one in particular and then lumbered off into the woods.
The second man to return was Masly, followed closely by Kolling, who was grinning from ear to ear as if she had just won a contest. A man Hamal had never seen before stumbled along obediently behind Kolling, an arrow protruding from each shoulder. Blood soaked through his cloak, and he looked miserable.
“I had everything under control,” Masly said.
“Of course, you did,” Kolling answered, laughing. “My lord.”
Hamal looked through the trees and asked, “Where is Cale?”
“He’s coming,” Masly replied. He glanced through the trees himself, a faraway look in his eyes. Then he nodded. “Yes, he’s coming. Could you see to our friend here?” He pointed at the bleeding man.
“Of course.”
The injured man frowned as Hamal approached. It might have been a grimace of pain. He was young—younger than Cale.
“You have no business being a thief,” Hamal told him.
“First time,” the man replied through gritted teeth.
“Well, let it be the last time. I’m going to put you to sleep to remove these. Can you sit down?”
The man dropped like a log.
Hamal put a hand to the man’s chest and removed the pain from his body. Relief rolled out of the bandit in a long sigh, and he sighed a second time as Hamal helped him lie flat.
“Good night,” Hamal said and brushed two fingers across the man’s forehead. The man’s eyes rolled back, and he didn’t stir again, not even later when they dropped him belly first on his horse and sent him back to Redsprin.
–H–
Author’s note: I love the part where they’re talking about Shel Galen getting married three times and the rest of the family thinking he’s a wild man. 😂😂
🔥 Want to read the chapters early? Join us on Patreon.
Comment below or find us on Facebook. Copyright notice: © 2026 by Lauren Stinton. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or sapient plants is purely coincidental.