Kaelyn’s head pounded with giant throbbing beats. She squeezed her eyes tight and rolled to her side, but the change of position didn’t alleviate the pain.
What had she done last night? She hadn’t been out drinking. She didn’t have any friends here to go drinking with. Not that she was inclined toward excess.
Something tickled the back of her mind.
She wasn’t inclined to drink to excess.
Inclined.
Her.
The words muddled in her head.
Was she inclined to drink? She had friends. She knew she did. There names were right there on the edge of her memory, but she couldn’t draw any of them forward. Everything was fuzzy, unclear.
Cloth rustled beside her and she froze. Someone was in her room. A sense of danger made her gut churn but didn’t know why or how.
“I know you’re awake,” said a gravelly voice.
She cracked open one eye. Pale bands of light cut through cracks in the shutters of an unfamiliar room and a dozen pallets, scattered across the floor, held prone figures.
She glanced behind her and met watery blue eyes. The movement sent spikes of pain through her head.
“You’re at the Temple of His Highest Graces. In the hostel,” said the man. Hints of emotions flickered through his gaze: concern, grief, resignation.
She didn’t know how to respond. A temple? That didn’t sound right. She wasn’t supposed to be in a temple. But she couldn’t bring to mind where she was supposed to be.
“You hit your head.” He buried his fingers into his bushy grey beard and scratched his chin.
She reached for her head and brushed the linen wrapped around her temples. Guess she had hit it. That would explain the pounding.
A bell tolled and monks rushed into the room, throwing open the shutters and waking those on the pallets. Kaelyn sat up and the room twisted out of focus.
“I wouldn’t suggest that just yet,” said the old man.
So kind of him to tell her after the fact. Her stomach churned, but she refused to lie back down. There was something important that she needed to do, that she needed to remember. And lying around in bed wouldn’t get it done, whatever it was.
A young monk strode to her side. “I see our patient is awake.”
“Your patient, monk.” The old man stood and straightened his clothes.
The monk’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t argue.
The old man ran both hands through his beard, drawing Kaelyn’s gaze to the thick scar running down his right cheek. “I appreciate the Ancient Father’s hospitality, but I’ve got to sign up with a ship before the tide goes out.” He offered her a slight smile. “Glad to see you’re awake.”
“The Father will see you rewarded for your kindness,” said the monk.
The old man snorted. “He already has.” His voice was thick with sarcasm. Without another word, he left.
“Who was that?” asked Kaelyn. There was something about him, something familiar, something trustworthy.
Damn, she was being vague about everything right now. She was in danger, but couldn’t say from what. She liked the old man, but couldn’t say why.
“The vagabond who found you and brought you to us.” The monk fussed with the bandage around her head.
“Does he have a name?”
“He didn’t say. Do you?”
“Kae—” That something at the back of her mind fluttered again. Her name. She had a name, an identity. But when she thought about it there was nothing there.
She pursed her lips. There had to be something. Family, friends, likes, dislikes, a life, experiences.
A cold knot grew in her gut. Why couldn’t she remember? It was there, all there, every detail of herself, she could feel it pressing at the back of her mind. But she couldn’t bring any of it forward, couldn’t turn it into words.
“Your name is Kae?”
No. That wasn’t right.
She shook her head. It wasn’t Kae. There was more to it. More to her.
A small voice, deep in the recesses within her whispered a single word. Kaelyn. Then it was engulfed in the darkness.
“Kaelyn.”
“Well, Kaelyn, I’m Burges,” said the monk, seemingly oblivious to her distress. “We’ll send a message to your family and–”
Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them back. As much as she wanted to panic and cry, she could hold it together. At least while she was in front of Burges. She had no idea what that said about her, but surely that meant something.
“You do have a family?”
She shook her head. She didn’t know why, only that if she couldn’t remember her family, she couldn’t tell Burges about them. And she didn’t know if she could bring herself to talk about it at the moment.
Burges sat back on his heels. “I see. Do you have any place to go?”
She probably did. Maybe if she wandered around, outside of the temple, something would awaken her memory.
“If you don’t say something I can’t help you. Surely someone is looking for you.”
Surely someone was.
Her gut twisted and the sense of danger returned. Someone was looking for her and that wasn’t good.
“Sit here. I’ll bring you some breakfast and maybe after that you’ll feel like talking.”
She nodded and Burges bustled away.
Silence pressed against her. The room was empty, everyone was in the courtyard receiving their bowl of morning gruel. How could she know that but nothing about herself? Yet she knew something bad was going to happen. She could feel it creeping over her skin and making her hair stand on end. She couldn’t stay here.
She staggered to her feet. The room twisted and spun and she leaned against the wall, sucking in deep breaths until her dizziness passed. Her head pounded and she lurched across the room, weaving her way among the pallets to the door. Dark spots swarmed across her vision and she sunk to her knees on a pallet. Only a few feet left to go and then. . . .
She had no idea.
But she couldn’t stay. If she was certain of anything she was certain of that.
All she needed was a moment to clear her head. She crawled to the other side of the pallet, closer to the door. At her knee lay a cap. Perfect. She put it on, stuffed her hair into it and pulled it low, hoping to hide the bandage. She doubted Burges would go to any effort looking for her, but there could be others connected to that danger that she couldn’t remember.
She stumbled out the door into the courtyard. The monks had a table on the other side where they doled out breakfast. Burges wasn’t around. Kaelyn skirted the edge and slipped out a small gate into a city.
Buildings crowded around the walls of the temple, most worn and rickety. People hurried about on their morning errands. Nothing felt familiar. The air was filled with the pungent reek of fish and urine, mixed with the soft aroma of cooking fires. She wandered, uncertain of where to go or what to do. Now that she had left the temple, the sense of urgency and danger had calmed. She still itched with the need to take action, but the situation no longer felt dire.
By late afternoon, her stomach constantly grumbling, she wandered into a busy market. Colorful stalls filled an enormous square lined with permanent shops. At the far end of a wide, paved road, spearing the brilliant blue sky, rose the masts of many ships.
She glanced at the thick glass window of the closest store, but didn’t look beyond her reflection. Unrecognizable features stared back at her. A limp tendril of mousey brown hair had escaped from the cap and she shoved it back in. Her eyes were brown, but there was nothing familiar about them, nor her small, upturned nose or bow mouth. Her cheeks were gaunt, as if she hadn’t eaten well for a while, and her stomach gurgled at the thought.
Food was going to be a priority soon. But more important, what was she going to do? The city hadn’t sparked any memories and neither had her reflection. At the back of her mind, festering, was the sense of danger that she had felt in the temple. The only thing that had felt like it was supposed to since she’d woken was that old man.
She shuddered at the thought. He hadn’t struck her as the type to want company. But he had found her and brought her to the temple for help.
The tickling at the back of her mind returned. That was what she needed to do. Find that man and convince him to help her. It was ridiculous, but her gut told her the opposite. And really, all she had left were her instincts.
She didn’t know how she was going to discover which ship the old man had signed with. She didn’t even know the man’s name. The docks bustled with sailors and dockworkers loading and unloading ships. Barrels, chests, sacks, livestock, and people crowded the way, filling the air with the roar of talking and yelling and braying, and the heady mix of sweat, dung, and fish. The afternoon sun beat down on it all, and Kaelyn loosened the neck of her shirt, suddenly hot.
She couldn’t very well ask him to just help her. People didn’t help other people out of the goodness of their hearts.
A sailor bumped into her, knocking her off balance. She stumbled and caught a pile a barrels before falling.
“Sorry, miss. A little girl like you probably shouldn’t be standing in the way.”
“I’m looking for my grandfather. Can you help me?” The words poured out before she could stop them.
“I’ve got work to do.” He shifted the sack on his broad shoulders to punctuate his statement.
“Please. He has a big bushy beard and a scar running down his right cheek.”
“Haven’t seen him. Try the north end of the docks.”
She worked her way through the crowd, asking the same question, shocked that anyone would help a strange girl supposedly looking for her grandfather. Maybe she’d been a mummer or a bard, or at least apprenticed to one.
And then she saw him, lumbering down a gangplank. His hair and beard were a wild mass of gray curls and his clothes were rumpled, stained, and patched. He followed the other sailors to a pile of sacks, picked one up, and hauled it onto the ship. She hung back, hiding near a makeshift pen packed with sheep, and watched. Off the ship, pick up a sack, back onto the ship. Over and over again. Without the banter of the other sailors. Like a tired, old grizzly bear.
Maybe she’d made a mistake thinking he’d want to help her. He didn’t seem at all pleasant, or even the type who would be interested in helping her–if she could even figure out what kind of help she needed. But he had found her, unconscious, and taken her to the temple. Which meant there was something kind about him.
The sun sank, the sacks disappeared onto the ship, as with some barrels and half a dozen horses. Sailors rushed about on the deck to barked commands and the gangplank was pulled up. Lanterns were lit and the shadows on the dock lengthened.
It was now or never. The tide was going out. She’d wasted the day watching him, too uncertain to approach, and now his ship was about to sail. Her gut clenched. She couldn’t let him leave.
She raced across the pier to the ship. There had to be a way on board. An enormous rope stretched from the vessel to a post on the pier. Without a second thought, she scampered up it into a tiny window. Embers glowed in the belly of a fat iron stove and shadowy objects crowed around her and swayed from hooks on the ceiling. The reek of burnt food hung in the air.
That had been easier than she’d imagined. She wasn’t even out of breath from the climb.
Who the heck was she?
