Bulletproof Witch Read online

  “I need the break as much as Daniel, I reckon. Not used to all these hot days, the last week has been like living inside a gunsmith’s forge.”

  She watched as the old gunslinger relaxed. “That’s good to hear. Was afraid for a moment it might be for . . . other reasons.”

  Temperance coughed to hide the sudden flush that came into her cheeks while Martin climbed onto the buckboard. In truth, the trip into town had seemed rather fortuitous, as her supply of alcohol had dwindled to only a single remaining bottle. She didn’t have much in the way of kos, but a town the size of Oceanside was bound to have some work or other that could earn her a few coins. With luck, it would be enough to keep her supplied until their next trip.

  They wound their way down the mountainside, Martin calling a halt periodically to disable his traps. Between that and the plodding pace of the cattle, Temperance wondered if they would even reach Oceanside before midday had come and passed.

  Martin probably suspects something, she pondered, watching as Daniel nearly shook himself to pieces waiting for the old gunslinger to reattach one of his wires. Might be we’re along for nothing more than physical labor and a day in the saddle.

  At last the land began to flatten out, and the track they followed grew into a road, farmhouses and cottages popping up like mushrooms between the trees. Salt spray drifted through the air, and before she knew it, the main streets of the town appeared. Martin drew the wagon up in front of a building whose sign proclaimed it to be Sea Urchin Supply: Last Stop For Quality Goods Before The Journey West.

  “You two meet me back here when the sun is overhead. We’ll dine at Marie Lee’s across the way, then load up supplies for home. Temperance, you know the way to the beach?”

  Temperance clambered off Duchess’s back and glanced to the East, where water stretched from one horizon to another. “I expect I can find my way.”

  “C’mon Temperance, I’ll show you the best places for swimming.” Before she could pull away, Daniel grabbed her by the hand and started dragging her down the street. “If we’re lucky, there’ll still be some vendors around from Highsummer. I’ve got a few kos, should be enough for a treat or two.”

  “But my horse . . . .” She cast a glance back at Duchess. Martin stood next to him and gave the animal a comforting pat.

  “Don’t worry, there’s nothing in this town that isn’t walking distance. I’ll keep an eye on the smelly beast for you. Have fun now, you hear?”

  Temperance didn’t respond, just watched Martin grin until he disappeared around the corner of the building.

  * * *

  He knew. Somehow he knew, and tasked Daniel with keeping me occupied. Temperance glowered in the boy’s general direction where he splashed about in the water with several other children. Martin keeps telling me that my time is my own business, and then he pulls something like this? He’s nothing but a hypocrite.

  The word sounded funny in her head. Her mother had used it once, and Temperance wasn’t certain it applied in this situation. She repeated it a few more times to get the feel of it. Hypocrite. Hippo . . . crit.

  Temperance leaned back and let the surf wash about her, the feel of the salt water strange on her skin; there was a sharp odor to it: not unpleasant, but so far removed from the rivers and ponds in the Silverskies that it seemed a different thing entirely. It had taken all of her courage to set foot in it at all, and that was only after Daniel had promised that the tide wouldn’t sweep them all out to sea.

  The morning wore on, and the novelty of the ocean wore off as salt dried on her exposed skin and grew itchy. At last she waded back onto the beach and found her clothes, pulling them on before her skin had a chance to dry.

  “Leaving already?” Daniel asked from where he and another boy were engaged in tossing a leather ball back and forth across the waves. His skin was surprisingly pale for how much time he had spent working Martin’s fields the last few months.

  “Yep, and don’t even think about trying to stop me. I’ve got something to attend to in town.”

  Temperance expected the boy to make more of a fuss, but he just turned back to his game. “Suit yourself, but Martin won’t give us another day like this before the weather turns cold. I intend to enjoy it for all it’s worth.”

  There was not much to the town itself, although it was still larger than Cold Valley and Smithton combined. In addition to four streets of businesses, it also had a boardwalk that ran the length of the beach for perhaps a quarter-mile. Small shops operated out of flimsy wooden shacks meant only for the calm summer months. Temperance wondered idly what they did for the winter as she walked along, searching for work.

  She stopped and inquired at a warehouse near the boardwalk’s far end, but the foreman took one look at her and burst out laughing. She left before he finished.

  There were several general stores besides the one Martin had stopped at where she tried her luck, but those in need of hands wanted something more permanent than a few hour’s labor. She asked around for any problems the locals might have, but, unlike Smithton, the quiet town of Oceanside had a rather active sheriff’s office. Even petty crime was uncommon, and the need for hired guns few and far between.

  Just as well. Not sure how I would explain to Martin where I got the ammo if he found out. She patted her one pocket guiltily, which held a box of ammo pilfered from the old gunslinger’s personal stash. At the rate he had her practicing, she doubted he would ever notice its absence, but she also didn’t need to give the man any more reason for disappointment.

  Maybe this is a sign. After everything it cost me to get taken on as an apprentice, is it worth risking that over a few more bottles of whiskey? It’s not like I can’t stop whenever I want to. I just don’t happen to want to at the moment.

  When the search for work brought her dangerously close to the restaurant where Martin was meeting them for dinner, Temperance veered back to the boardwalk and tried her luck there. At the third stand she got lucky: the owner was an old man with a crippled back, who offered her two kos for an hour’s work helping to mind his stand and unload supplies. The pay didn’t sound like much, but it was more money than she would make sitting around the beach, that was square certain. She set to work doing as the man asked.

  “What is all this, anyway?” she asked after the fifth customer left with a bundle of papers under his arm. They were too flimsy for books, and too small for newspaper. At least they appeared to have plenty of pictures.

  The old man squinted at her. “You never seen a magazine before, Missy?”

  “I don’t think so?” She opened one and scanned the pages. It appeared to be talking about something going on in Arkton. “Are they like newspapers?”

  “Hah, only in the same way a cigar is like a cigarillo. People read newspapers when they want to learn something. They read a magazine when they want to enjoy themselves.”

  Temperance turned a page and found herself staring at a picture of a naked woman lying in a rather compromising position. She recalled Martin’s comments about his own magazines and quickly flipped the pages shut, feeling heat crawl up her cheeks. The old man chuckled, likely taking her reaction for prudishness.

  “Yep, they got a little something for everyone. Going to get to be soon where no folks even bother to check in with each other. We’ll just be ignoring everybody, faces glued to the pages in front of us.” The old man shook his head. “I tell you, not sure what’s happening with the world. Back in my day, people knew the importance of a good conversation, that’s for dang sure.”

  Another customer came, purchased a magazine, then left. Temperance finished unloading the last crate and glanced at the sun. It was hard to tell from under the stand, but it appeared close to overhead. The man noticed her watching.

  “Just about an hour now, Missy. Why don’t you haul these outdated copies down to that stall yonder for me, and we’ll call it even?” He waved a hand towards where another shack was selling greasy potato slices wrapped in paper.
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br />   Temperance gathered up the indicated pile, grunting at the weight of them. She wobbled her way along the boardwalk and dumped them at the potato stand’s back door, pausing to wipe away a sheen of sweat from her forehead. Manual labor on a day like this wasn’t exactly her brightest of ideas.

  There was a pile of old newspapers next to the shack. A headline caught her attention: Tragedy at Cold it said before cutting off where the paper had been folded in half. Temperance frowned and picked it up. Unfolding the paper, her eyes widened as they scanned along the page.

  Tragedy in Cold Valley! A Hero Lost!

  It is with sorrowful hearts that we report the death of James Algon Whiteoak, better known to most of Korvana as The Brimstone. He was found dead in his home of Cold Valley, along with all other inhabitants of the remote mountain town. Marshals arrived with the first spring melt after having received reports of strange activity and have since confirmed the death of one of our nation’s greatest heroes.

  While the cause of the town’s destruction is yet unknown, a source close to the office of the president has confirmed that several bandits were active in the region, including the so-called Fisher Brothers along with another group operating in the south referred to as . . . .

  Temperance stopped reading and let the paper slip from her hands. It fluttered down and settled on the sandy boards, where she could just see a rough print of a burned out building. She thought it might have been the remains of her parent’s home.

  Her feet started moving of their own accord, carrying her along the boardwalk and towards what she could not have said at that moment. A shout came from behind her, the old man at the newspaper stand. “Hey, Missy, hey! Don’t you want your kos?”

  The words might as well have been whispers on the wind for all they meant to Temperance.

  She kept on walking. Her vision blurred, almost as if there were tears in her eyes. That would have been ridiculous, of course. She had already shed all the tears over this tragedy that she intended to. Must have been something in her eye, is all.

  Something in both eyes.

  So that’s it, then? Grandpa saves the Federation a dozen times over, and all he gets is a few paragraphs in some paper? And what was that about bandits? Those marshals must have less than two beans between their ears if they thought a pack of measly bandits could have laid a finger on my grandpa!

  Somehow, she found herself back in front of Martin’s wagon. The old gunslinger was leaning against the side, smoking a cigarillo. He glanced in surprise at her arrival.

  “Back for your horse? I suppose there’s some time before—”

  “No,” she said, cutting the man off. “I’m done with here. Knew I didn’t like this place the first moment we rode in here. Let’s get your goods packed already.”

  “Packed? What about dinner?” Daniel appeared at her shoulder. Martin gave the boy a look, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged in response.

  Temperance ignored them both. “You get food if you want, I’m not hungry. I’ll start loading while you eat.”

  “You certain about that?” Martin pushed himself off the wagon.

  “Certain as I’ve ever been. Where do I start?”

  All of them were silent the whole ride back to Martin’s house. Even the old gunslinger seemed to understand that conversation wouldn’t be appreciated, disabling and restoring his traps with a quick efficiency he hadn’t displayed on the journey that morning. Temperance spent the entire ride staring out at nothing in particular, letting Duchess take the lead. Her thoughts kept circling the same pathway in her head, always ending back where she started, but unable to break away no matter how much she tried.

  It was early afternoon when they arrived back at the farm. Temperance hopped out of the wagon and started towards Duchess. Martin got in between, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “Why don’t you go on inside? I’ll see to it Daniel gets your horse put away.”

  From the buckboard, Daniel let out a squawk of protest. Martin spun about. “Quit complaining and get down here already, unless you feel like taking the quick way off this mountain!”

  Temperance didn’t respond. It felt like everything inside her was growing colder, turning to ice with each passing minute. She nodded her thanks to Martin and turned towards the house.

  The stairs seemed to blur in her vision, but after three months Temperance knew her way up and down them blindfolded. In fact, her grandfather had set her to climbing up and down the northern slope once with a blindfold on. She had almost fallen into a hundred-foot gulley—twice. Even more embarrassing, it had been the same gulley.

  The memory should have brought a smile to her face, but instead she just felt the ice growing inside of her, spreading its way through her veins. It was as if she was standing apart from herself, watching the coldness consume her with an almost detached sense of curiosity.

  There was only one thing she knew to do in this situation, only one cure. Fortunately, it was close at hand.

  Temperance stepped into her room, making her way to the closet by feel more than sight. The air was hot and stuffy after being sealed up all day, but she didn’t care. Only the bottle that she pulled from her saddlebags, the last in a long line of escapes, could hold her attention. With a practiced hand she broke the seal, the ice inside of her snapping closed around her heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was late morning when they reached the outskirts of Sweetwater, also marking their entrance into the Messanai territory. Temperance was still getting water out of her boots from the river crossing as she crested a hill and caught sight of the town.

  “Well, isn’t that a sight for sore eyes,” she said as William drew up beside her. “Not sure what I want more: food or a warm bath.”

  Originally established on the banks of Lake Victory, the town of Sweetwater had blossomed in the ensuing century. What had once been little more than a dusty waystop for travelers on their journey east had grown to become a true township. Large brick buildings now replaced the original wooden structures and cobblestones filled in streets that had begun life as little more than muddy tracks.

  Temperance had only been to the town twice while bound for Messanai City with Martin, and then she’d only wandered a short distance from the train station. Still, it appeared that the last few years had been good for the community. The surrounding hills were covered with quaint homesteads and budding gardens where Temperance recalled only untouched forests before.

  Below them spread the town proper, with the lake shining silver in the warm sun. Smoke from a thousand chimneys hid much of the landscape beyond, but if Temperance’s memory held, it would be little more than open pastures full of lowing orak for miles.

  “Is this a city?” William gaped, looking more shocked than when they came across the redgrass fields, if that was even possible.

  “‘City’ would be a bit generous, I think. Reckon most folks would prefer to keep calling Sweetwater a town, especially with Messanai so close.”

  “But it is so . . . .” William gestured with both arms, as if that explained everything.

  “Big?”

  “Yes! How can people live this close to their neighbors without going mad?”

  “Tall fences help a lot in that regard. You don’t have cities in Isterial?”

  The boy shook his head. “Nor are we allowed to gather in large numbers. Some still risk doing so in the daylight, but the upyr have eyes everywhere, and it only takes one question to a thrall before a secret is out. I do not think I have ever seen more than a hundred people together at once.”

  “Well trust me, by the time we get to Messanai you’ll be wishing for the open plains again. More people just means more trouble.”

  She started down the hill. After a moment William followed, his demeanor growing more subdued than usual with every plodding step of his horse. Even with her back to him, Temperance could feel nervousness roiling off the boy like the stench of sweat-soaked leather gone too long without a proper
cleaning. She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a questioning look.

  “Something on your mind?”

  “No.” He paused. “It is just . . . I had thought I would find a small community waiting in Messanai. What if it is like this? How am I to learn everyone’s name if I cannot even see where the street ends?”

  “You don’t. Get to know a few people at a time, and the rest of life falls into place. Besides, even if the rest of Messanai City is too much for you, I doubt this community of yours will be all that big. How many people can really have made the journey to Korvana, anyway?”

  This last comment appeared to satisfy William, enough for him to at least put away the worried expression. He set to looking about with interest as the scattered homesteads gave way to orderly streets.

  The first shops they passed were of the most general variety, catering to farmers not wanting to travel any farther into town than necessary. Soon, though, the buildings grew grander, even gaining a second or third story in places. They were at their thickest near the train station, where Temperance counted at least three hotels and over twice as many saloons.

  William paused as the trains came into view. Even over the din in the street, Temperance heard his sharp intake of breath. She watched him stare at the bustle of activity, people streaming about in all directions, loading and unloading cars, shouting orders, or just going about a hundred of the other tasks that occupied townsfolk life.

  “Will we ride on that?” the boy asked at last, not bothering to tear his eyes away from the sight of men hauling several crates onto a wagon.

  “That train? Not likely.” The one waiting at the station was mostly flatbed cars, piles of green timber tied down by steel cables. The few other boxes Temperance could spy from this distance appeared to be cargo as well. “C’mon, we’ll find our ride soon enough, but we’ve got to keep moving.”

  “Moving? Are we not leaving for Messanai?”