Much like every other day, Raya woke up before her parents and ate a fruit from the bowl on the table, today, one of the apples they had bought at market, imported from West Radregar. The house seemed more quiet without Novar; when she had climbed out of her bed, dressed, and walked through the doorway, she had half-expected to see his sleeping form on the cot outside her door. But now the cot was standing upright, leaning against the wall like an empty and abandoned frame for artwork. Novar’s trial was fast approaching.
Raya tried not to think about it too much, for she felt bad when she did. Novar had never been much of a brother to her, not even when they were children, but she still felt saddened by the thought of whatever punishment the Council decided fitting for his crime.
The sun was barely starting to rise, when she closed the latch on the door, quietly, behind her. Across the hills to the west, a dim glow began to haze the empty grey sky. She grabbed the rabbit she had left hanging by her skinning shed, and hooked it to her belt. It had drained dry throughout the night, but she didn’t think that traveller would mind. His dark, weathered skin had looked as dried out as the rabbit did.
He wasn’t at the gate when she got there, so she waited. Another town guard nodded to her, and she nodded back.
A few moments later, a scattering of birds awoke for the day in a flurry of feathers above her, soaring southward. The traveller did not appear, but they had not agreed on a specific time, aside from sunrise, so she waited half an hour. “Where’s Sten?” she asked the guard on duty, at last.
“In the guard house, last I saw,” he replied.
She stuck her head in, where Sten and a few others were playing at dice. Two others were asleep on the other table, despite the clatter of stones and wood. “Sten,” she interrupted, “Did you see where that traveller went last night?”
“I suggested the Old Gran,” he said. “No sign of him?”
“I’ll go see if he’s still there.”
The Old Granite Inn was one of the oldest buildings in Olston, and it hadn’t changed hands once. It’s owner was none other than Cavthur, the grumpy old town Councillor, but he was never its operator. A tall man named Ogivar was wiping down his tavern’s tables when Raya stepped inside. “Morning,” he said, with a smile. “You’re usually out hunting by now, aren’t you?”
She shrugged. “A traveller who stayed here was going to meet me, but he didn’t show up. Bald black fellow with scars?”
“Yeah, he was here,” Ogivar muttered. “Paid for a room, but didn’t stay in it that I saw. Drank a few, then left, middle of the night.”
Raya shook her head. “Waste of my time,” she said, quietly. “Thanks, Master.” He waved as she left. With nothing else to do, she followed the stairs down through the suburbs, past the cedar trees, and up the slope toward the town wall. The guard on duty chuckled as she past him on her way out, and she left her rabbit hanging on one of the palisades nearby. “Have it for lunch, if you want,” she said.
Her hunt was uneventful, but helped her get her thoughts straight. Novar would have to stand trial, and she would have to do her part, and the Council would have to do theirs. Her parents were distraught, of course, but even they quieted their sadness for contemplation. Raya didn’t encounter any refugees, nor any other hunters. She caught mostly birds, creeping up to trees to take skilled shots with her bow at the lower branches. By mid-afternoon, she was laden with her prey.
Sten was on guard again, when she approached the town. When she had left, the sun had been in her eyes. When she returned, it was again.
“Good hunt?” he asked.
Raya nodded. “Good day, despite wasting time this morning. Why are you on duty now?”
Hemsten frowned, and put his hand on the pommel of his sword, casually. “A guard, Hanik, didn’t show up for his shift, and hasn’t been seen at his house. Old man Cavthur took a couple guards he trusted to look into it. Hanik’s probably just sleeping off a hangover somewhere.”
“Seems odd,” Raya asked. “I’ll go see if they have found anything yet.”
“They should have things under control,” Sten said, with a smile.
Raya shrugged and headed home. She strung up her birds for plucking, but then, restlessly, went in search of Hanik’s house. She found it with directions from one of the market guards. Olston market wasn’t as busy as the markets she’d seen in Vagren, but it was still a popular venue for trading or even meeting friends. The guard’s house was a few blocks away, a two-storey house with a narrow perimeter.
Cavthur and another guard were already standing in front, talking with a scrawny, flaxen haired woman. Raya approached cautiously, until Cavthur noticed her, and waved her closer with a curt nod.
“…he didn’t come home though,” the woman was saying, likely Hanik’s wife.
The guard noticed Raya, and it seemed appropriate to interject something, so Raya said, “Is there any way I can help?” The house was visible through an open door. Everything looked tidy, even the outside of it.
“Hanik left his shift last night,” Cavthur said. “but his wife didn’t see him at all. Didn’t go home, and can’t be found today. We’re going to keep looking into it, maybe post some notices… hardly anything for a small game hunter to do.”
Raya tried not to look visibly irritated by the old man’s impatience. She shrugged, and looked at the wife. “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
It all seemed strange, the traveller’s disappearance in the night and the guard’s poor attendance… Raya had nothing to offer the Councillor though, in way of information, so she excused herself and headed home to clean up her bird kills and eat a small dinner with her parents. They were in their late forties; Cavthur was over fifty, but he was one of the oldest people in town. Olston hardly had the comfort and amenities to keep everyone healthy, but no issues had arisen with her parents yet.
She told them a little about the day’s mysteries, and resolved to keep an ear out for more information.