Shadow Road: Book 1 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy

2. Accidental Encounter

3rd of Uirra, Continued

Prattle's was sure to be open at that hour, so I went there first, flying through the aisles without letting myself look at any of the exotic knick-knacks and curiosities the place was famous for. It took too many precious minutes, but I found a mending kit and a few other things, then nearly overpaid the grumpy store-clerk before rushing next door.

The gaslight was on behind the 'Open' sign, and I heaved a sigh of relief as I took the broad stairs to the front entrance of the Post. Like any normal person would, I stepped up to the switch panel and pressed the enter toggle, then moved to the left to be in front of the doors when they accordioned apart.

At the same instant that I stepped left, someone manually yanked the doors open from the inside and came storming out, and in the blink of an eye I went from walking politely into the Post, to slamming into a large, solid person who was also slamming into me.

For one brief flurry of a second there was a wall of blue wool in front of me and I had very rapid, very close introduction to a metal cloak clasp, then there was a masculine grunt of annoyance above my head and a pair of large hands wrapped around my waist. The next instant I was lifted like a post and set neatly out of the way, while Mr. Large-and-Solid continued down the stairs two at a time before striding off down the boardwalk.

My mouth was hanging agape.

I let out my breath on a "Hah!"

Then I realized I wasn't holding the packet of things I had just bought and looked down.

The mending kit was at my feet, the tin of seaman's balm to my left, my bundle of wax-coal sketching sticks scattered about. With a frustrated groan I began gathering everything up, scooping my mending kit out of the slush, shaking dirty snow off my sketch sticks and the tin of balm. Then, shooting a narrow-eyed glare in the direction Mr. Solid had taken, I hurried into the Post.

It wasn't until I reached the Sender's Due counter that I bothered to reach into my cloak pocket for the letter. My fingers didn't find an envelope. "How in all..." I checked the other pocket, but there was no question. They were both empty. I took a breath. Then another. Tried to remember where I had last had it. Went through my items from Prattles. Checked my jacket pocket even though it was much too small.

The woman behind the counter was watching me expectantly. "Will you be sending anything today?"

At a loss, I glanced at the timekeep on the far wall. Thanks to Mr. Solid there wasn't even time to dash off another quick note. The Galvania wasn't going to wait for one little passenger, and Father couldn't afford to stay at an inn until the next boat to Lordstown.

Throat burning, I shook my head, turned around and left, breaking into an unladylike run as soon as I reached the boardwalk.

My father was standing at the entrance to the gangway. When he saw me coming, he pointed at me, obviously begging the boarding conductor to keep the gate open. I ran as fast as I could, tossing aside decorum to make it aboard that blasted ship. I let out a bitter laugh as I hurtled up the gangway and came to a puffing, panting, inglorious halt on the main deck.

Father was only a step behind, thanking the sailor at the end of the boarding ramp before following me to where I stood with my hands on my ribs, trying to catch my breath.

"What were you doing? Do you know —" He realized he was nearly shouting and grabbed my arm, dragging me over to the railing, as if that would somehow provide privacy from the dozens of other passengers gathered on the deck.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" He hissed, bending to put his face close to mine. "All of our belongings have already been loaded! What if you had been a minute more? We would have been stuck here with nothing but the clothes on our backs, watching everything we own sail off for Lordstown! And that is nothing compared to not knowing where you were, or if something had happened to you —"

"I'm fine, Father," I got out, still a bit winded. "I am here, you are here, and we and our belongings are all heading to the same... distant... place," my voice broke and I had to look away, my emotions getting the better of me.

Father studied me for a moment. Then, abruptly, he asked, "Did someone stop you? Is that what took so long? Did you talk to anyone?"

"What? No!" A hot blush began creeping up my neck as I fumbled for something that would derail this particular line of questioning. "I just ran into someone outside the Post Office —"

"Man or woman?"

"A man, but he didn't —"

Father's words were quick. Hard. "Did this man say who he was, or ask where we were going?"

It was like looking at a stranger wearing my father's body. Two weeks before, he wouldn't have been asking those questions. He would have laughed. Perhaps expressed concern for the man while teasing me about doing a thing well the first time. A peculiar chill of apprehension slid down my spine. "No," I said, glancing around. I offered a smile to a curious elderly couple a few yards away. "He was just some poor fellow in a hurry to be somewhere else... Honestly, Father, can't we talk about this in our cabin? Please? People are looking at us."

Father's gaze shifted to the other passengers, and for an instant his expression changed. The calm, dignified man was gone, replaced by some wary, hunted creature that had been backed into a corner. The next second the spell broke. Chuckling, he held out his hand. "My dear, what would I do without you?"

Go completely off your rockers?

I didn't say anything, though, and took his hand, simply glad that he was leading me toward the main hatch and away from prying eyes.

~~~

Four hours later, I sat on my berth, trying to stave off seasickness by holding very still while drinking chamomile tea. This was proving more difficult than I was used to. Father had purchased 2nd class tickets, C level, in the lower deck of the fore passenger's section, so there was quite a bit of pitch and roll to contend with.

The trick seemed to be to hold the teacup still and wait for the tea to slosh toward my face, and then open my mouth, rather than attempt to keep the tea tilted toward my lips by adjusting the angle of the teacup. It was too easy to overcorrect. Suffice to say, there was more tea on me than anywhere else.

The cabin door slid open and Father stepped in, quickly closing the door after him.

I glanced up at the sound of the latch pin.

He had been gone for nearly an hour, but he didn't have the ginger biscuits he had gone to get. In fact, all he had was that tight, tense, hunted look on his face. He put his hands on his hips for a moment, took a breath, and let it out slowly before moving to sit on the edge of his berth, reaching to pluck the Porte De Darre advertisement bulletin from where he had left it on his pillow.

I put my teacup on its saucer. "They didn't have any biscuits?"

For several seconds he didn't respond. Then he lifted his head and gave me a vacant stare through his spectacles. "Oh. No. Sorry, my dear. No biscuits," he said, then went back to perusing the 'looking for' ads.

I didn't really care about the biscuits. It was the way he wouldn't quite meet my eyes that made me uneasy. It seemed very much like he was hiding something.

He had never hidden things from me before we left Garding. For the thousandth time since the fire, I wondered if I had lost him too that night. There was a widening distance between us that I couldn't seem to find a way across, no matter what I did or said. He used to trust me with everything. Now, he could barely let me cross the street alone, much less tell me why. I desperately wanted to believe he was simply overwhelmed with losing everything, but his paranoia only seemed to be getting worse. I swallowed hard. What would happen to us in the Colonies if he really was losing his mind?   

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