Seven Endless Forests - April Genevieve Tucholke Page 0,46
hill hut, Torvi?”
“Yes.” I tapped the blade of my Butcher Bard knife on my thigh and thought of my mother. Fortune favors brave women. “Yes and no.”
I suddenly longed to be back in the shepherd’s hut in the hills again. Crawling under a pile of furs, Viggo’s strong arms pulling me into him, the wind whistling outside, the fire crackling below, Mother and Aslaug and Morgunn tucked safely into their beds back in the Hall, nothing to worry about, nothing to think about, no regrets, no decisions …
Ink gestured with her chin at the carved stone post that pointed west, the word TINTAGLE etched into the length. “Hard to miss the path to the tree town. There’s nowhere else to go.”
The post had two other arms, one pointing east to FISHER IVES, and one pointing north to a place called HEART SEED … though no path led in either direction.
I glanced at Ink. “Are Fisher Ives and Heart Seed tree towns?”
She shrugged. “This signpost has stood here for centuries—what those places are, or what they were, few people know or remember. Regardless, the paths leading there are long gone. We Bards have only ever taken the road to Tintagle.”
* * *
We reached the tree town shortly after nightfall. It shone like stars.
Fires blazed in countless braziers on a hundred smooth, curving stairways, each of which circled the giant trunk of an ancient blood tree.
Pink-hued windows dotted each building, as Ink had described. The homes themselves curved like the stairways, crescent moons around the trunks, with timbered roofs left open to the sky at the center, allowing the tree trunks to rise through the ceilings.
“It’s rather ingenious.” Madoc gestured up to the town. “The blood tree leaves shield the roofs from rain as securely as our Elshland shingles, but allow the smoke from the hearth fires to float upward through the open roof, keeping the insides of the dwellings clean, with plenty of fresh air.”
We passed a few brightly lit homes that sat directly along the forest path, then came to a stop at the base of a stairway carved with several small images of frogs, toads, snakes, and rats. A wooden sign hung on the trunk of the tree it encircled—the words WAYWARD SISTERS TAVERN were painted in bold yellow letters.
This would be my first taste of true civilization since I’d last visited Trow all those weeks ago, before the snow sickness, before it was burned. Despite my apprehension about tree towns, I was looking forward to leaving the open road for a while and nestling into safe, settled civilization again.
I began to climb the steps, then returned to the bottom, gripped Gyda’s arm, and pulled her up after me.
“I disapprove of heights,” the druid said as I prodded her up the stairs.
“I won’t let you fall, Pig Witch.”
The Wayward Sisters Tavern was the largest building on the east side of Tintagle. My companions and I crossed a circular platform and then walked up seven more steps to the heavy front doors. I gave them a hard push with the palms of my hands.
Warmth hit me like a hot summer breeze. I stepped inside, followed by Ink, Gyda, and Madoc, and the doors shut behind us. A roaring fire burned in the central stone hearth, and the inn was as bright as sunlight. It was loud with chatter and thumping mugs and crackling logs. I could feel the noise humming in my rib cage, and it warmed me more than the fire.
Perhaps I will bring Morgunn to this tree town after we slay Uther and her wolves.
The two of us could return together. We could go anywhere, do anything. Traveling with the Butcher Bards had taught me this above all else—wandering with friends provided its own sense of safety, its own comfort, despite the perils of the open road and the risks that came from having no one place to call home.
The four of us strode toward the thick, smooth length of polished wood that marked the bar and elbowed our way to the front.
Two women were working the ale, filling wooden mugs from the large barrels behind them. They were twins, or perhaps sisters very close in age, about thirty years old, each with wide-set eyes that were such a unique shade of light brown they appeared almost golden. Both women had thick blond hair that hung in ringlets around their sweet, heart-shaped faces.
Ink nodded toward the golden-eyed women. “That’s two of the Wayward Sisters—they are known collectively as