Fall Ten Times, Rise Eleven
The work they had taken with the merchant caravan came with a set minimum and a fixed daily wage. Even if something kept them from working more than a few days, so long as they were not the ones who broke the contract, that minimum would still be paid.
Contracts of that sort, they were told, had once been rare. Listening quietly to Red Sword, Juhwan gathered that the war had left the domains uneasy, and that unease had changed the terms.
Escorts were often set upon by bandits, and near the border the enemy's soldiers raided as well. Goods were stripped away, and sometimes people died, so agreements like this one had been growing more common of late.
This caravan, though, would feel its way along a route far from the border, and the company itself was very large, so the work was comparatively safe.
Red Sword said as much, and laughed. Juhwan did not take the words at face value. Anyone who insisted on a healing mage was not offering a safe job.
He set a hand on Lizzie's shoulder.
Her face had gone white after they came out of the weapons shop. Or had it been white before that? The money vanishing all at once seemed to have knocked the sense clean out of her.
Thinking of what they had spent today made his own stomach ache a little.
After the pelts were sold, most of the nineteen silver coins he had been carrying were gone. Prices ran higher than he had expected, and there had simply been too many things that had to be bought at once.
Clothes were especially dear. A single fur hat cost ten rina.
His hand had not wanted to reach for it. But they would need hats and gloves not only while they traveled with the caravan, but afterward as well. On escort duty they would have to stand night watch in turns with the other parties. Juhwan himself might have done without. Lizzie and Dorothy could not.
"From today I'll have to sew in earnest. At least we have the cloth. I never imagined clothes could cost so much."
Lizzie murmured it, and closed her fist tight around the coin pouch at her waist.
The advance for the caravan job was in there.
Juhwan patted her shoulder lightly and set his lips to the hair of the sleeping Dorothy.
Wherever a man went, and in whatever world he lived, money sat at the top of things. The greatest reason he had taken the caravan work, even while thinking it might be a little dangerous, was money.
Even after the guild's commission, a mage's daily wage came to two hundred rina—a little over sixteen silver. The journey, he had heard, would run ten days or more.
And if he used Healing Magic, there would be an extra fee on top of that. There was no turning this down.
Red Sword's daily pay, by contrast, was fourteen rina for all three of them together. That, they said, was already higher than usual. Count the meals that came with it, and it was a very good arrangement indeed.
Rank at the guild seemed to weigh heavily in setting the sum. When a client had no way to judge an adventurer's skill with his own eyes, he looked at the rank the guild had assigned and guessed from that. The guild, for the same reason, appeared to be careful about how it judged.
Juhwan had been made Rank 3 at once because he was a mage. By rights he ought to have been paid at that level this time as well.
But for this caravan escort the Adventurer's Guild had stood surety that his skill was Rank 2, and so he was paid on a Rank 2 scale. Without that, there would have been no two hundred rina.
He was truly glad he could use magic. Otherwise he might well have starved in the street.
If it had come to that, I probably would have become a bandit.
Killing people and taking what they had was a sin. He had no wish to defend it, and no wish to say that a man might harm others so long as he needed to eat. Even so, he probably would have done it. To feed Lizzie and Dorothy, he might have done worse.
Whatever the people of this world did in order to live, he no longer felt like condemning it. Driven to the edge, people ended up much the same. He doubted anyone could swear that they alone would be different. He tightened the arm around Lizzie's shoulder.
The women of Red Sword spoke among themselves, and then Marie—the easiest and the best with words of the three—looked at Juhwan.
"Where are you staying just now?"
"I don't know the inn's name. A retired adventurer runs it."
"Oh—would that be the Little One's place, in front of the guild?"
Marie understood at once. That child really did seem to be out in front of the guild every day. When Juhwan nodded, she asked whether they had paid a full month in advance.
"…We did."
Ah. What now. Did a world like this even have a system for refunds? While he worried over it, Marie seemed to read his face, and laughed under her breath.
"At any other lodging, that money would simply be gone. Fight all you like. They'd never give it back. But that place is all right. The Adventurer's Guild doesn't say so outright, but it's as good as their official inn. If a job runs three or four days or more, they extend your stay by that much."
"That's a relief."
So that was why the wagon-yard keeper had recommended the Little One's lodging. Quietly, this neighborhood ran on ties and favors too. Or perhaps that was only natural, in a village closer to the countryside than to a city.
There might be almost nothing here that was recommended, or praised, out of simple goodwill. Well. The food had been good, and looking at it now it really had been cheap. He had no complaint.
"And where are you staying?"
Marie did not answer at once. Soon she let out a small sigh and spoke.
"If you walk quite a way past that Little One's inn, there's a cluster of buildings like barns. A place where a lot of people sleep together. When we're in this village, that's where we sleep."
She hunched her shoulders and smiled as if a little ashamed.
"It's cheap. Much cheaper than an inn."
She raised her voice a little on purpose. She seemed to be trying to sound bright, which only made it more pitiful.
"I think we've bought roughly what we need. Let's meet in the square before the sun is up. We won't stop at any villages along the way, so please have a little feed ready for the horses. And put some beer or wine in the water skins you bought today. Ask at the inn and they'll give you a fair amount."
Water in this world did not seem to be much good. People drank wine or beer in its place. To Juhwan the trouble was probably that they never boiled it, but these people did not appear to think so.
"Understood. We'll see you tomorrow."
As he answered, Marie came in close to him and Lizzie and dropped her voice.
"I'm sorry about today. About our leader picking a fight. But she's really a good person, our leader. Jessie and I met Karin when we were just about to die, and from then until now she's kept pushing herself, trying to protect us."
Marie drew back and smiled, bright as anything.
"See you tomorrow. Don't be late."
She turned and ran to her companions, who waited a little apart. At a distance, the women of Red Sword dipped their heads.
Juhwan and Lizzie returned the greeting in much the same way, and Red Sword turned away.
Three women, one tall and two smaller, walked off side by side. The frayed cuffs and the worn hems of their cloaks lingered strangely in the eye.
Marie clung to Karin as if wheedling, and linked their arms. Karin, the leader, shook her off as if she disliked being watched, but after a few steps she quietly took Marie's hand.
Who in the world was without a story? Everyone carried something of their own.
Juhwan bent his head to look at Lizzie's face. For some reason she was staring after the departing Red Sword as if she meant to see straight through them.
"Lizzie, what's wrong?"
She lifted her face, looked at him a moment, and smiled. Tears had gathered a little in her eyes.
"The lodging that woman mentioned—I think I know it. It's probably near the place where I stayed when I was sold. Or maybe it is that place."
She leaned her face against his chest and spoke very softly.
"There are bedbugs. They itch so badly you can't sleep. There's a little straw, but almost none, and men and women are all mixed together, so terrible things happen to some of them. The night I stayed, there was a woman like that. No one helped her. They all just watched."
Lizzie put her arms around him. She almost never did such a thing where people could see, but today was strange. A man passing by glanced at the two of them.
"They laugh, watching a woman being taken. The merchant who was taking me laughed too. He enjoyed it. Someone told them to light a fire, laughing. Said they couldn't see well enough."
Her voice caught as she spoke, and she held him tight.
"If you hadn't been there, I would have lived through worse than that. If I had met those women then, I would certainly have been jealous. I would have envied them."
"Juhwan, thank you."
She said it, and stood that way a little while. Even after Red Sword had vanished into the crowd, Lizzie kept looking at the place where they had walked.
When she opened her eyes, it was the inn room, with the bell tower in view.
What! What in the world had happened! She ought to have played longer. Why was Dorothy back in the room already?
Dorothy shot upright. Mom and Dad were sitting on the other bed, kissing, and they startled and looked at her.
"That's mean! Why is only Dorothy an acorn!"
Not getting to play at the market already made her want to cry, and now Mom and Dad were kissing while Dorothy was an acorn. It was really too much.
She ran across the bed and leapt. She hung for a moment in the air and came down on the next bed, and Dad laughed and caught her up.
"Dorothy. What if you get hurt?"
"But only Dorothy is an acorn. Dad, kiss Dorothy too!"
She pushed her lips out, and Dad kissed her mouth, her nose, her forehead. Then he set his mouth against her belly and blew a raspberry. It was warm and ticklish, and the laughter came out all by itself.
Dorothy twisted and squirmed, rolling across the bed to get away from him. After she had tumbled about for a good while, she saw Mom Lizzie's face. For some reason it was incredibly red.
"Mom, why is your face so red?"
"Hweh. Eh."
Mom had turned into an idiot. She couldn't talk. She had become just like Oz.
"Dad, this is bad. Mom's an idiot."
Dad laughed.
Mom went even redder.
"Uh."
Dorothy tipped her head. Folding her fingers one by one, she counted the way Dad had taught her. He had taught her as many numbers as she had fingers. Now she could count to ten.
"Oz, Toto, Mom… one, two, three. It's three!"
Oz and Toto and Mom had become the Three Musketeers. The number was the same as the Three Musketeers Dad had told her about. All three of them couldn't talk.
"…Uh."
Then wasn't it fine? So long as she wasn't an acorn, it was all right, wasn't it? If only one person couldn't talk, that would be a disaster, but there were three. Mom wouldn't be lonely. She'd be okay, right?
"Yeah! It's okay. Mom, even if you're an idiot, it's okay. Oz and Toto can't talk either. And it's cool. The Three Musketeers!"
Dorothy sprang up. Mom becoming an idiot was all right, because she had become a cool musketeer, and Dorothy had gotten a kiss from Dad, so—ah. Mom's kiss.
She latched on to Mom Lizzie at once and kissed her on the mouth with a smack. Good! That was enough. Everyone had been kissed.
"Now Dorothy has to wear the hat!"
Dad and Mom had bought her a hat. A fluffy fur one. It even had a tail. Oz was a rabbit, so his tail was round, but the hat's tail was long. Much longer, and much cooler.
"I'm going to be cooler than Oz. Because I got a long tail."
Dorothy ran for the bundle of luggage under the bed. Somewhere in there was the fluffy hat.
"Dorothy, wait a moment. There's a lot of luggage. You won't find it that way."
Mom Lizzie laughed and undid the bundle. The idiocy seemed to have gone. Dorothy couldn't tell whether that was lucky, or unlucky, because now they weren't the Three Musketeers anymore.
"Here. This is it."
"Whoa."
Dorothy took the hat Mom held out and opened her eyes very wide. Soft. Her hands felt as if they had gone into a cloud.
Oz came close, nose twitching, and sniffed.
"Oz, you understand? This is Dorothy's tail."
The long tail was really wonderful. Dorothy stroked it gently, then set the hat on her head. The moment she let go, it sank down and covered her eyes. She couldn't see.
"Mom! I can't see!"
"Yes, I know. We picked a big one, so you can still wear it after you've grown a little."
Mom took the hat away. Mean. The new hat… Dorothy thought she might cry.
"Mom, Dorothy can't wear the hat until she grows?"
"Oh my, Dorothy. No. I'll sew a string inside, so you can wear it."
"When?"
"Tonight. But it'll take a little time, so—hmm—I'll have it finished by the time you wake in the morning. You'll be able to wear it then."
Mom smiled, but Dorothy's tears came anyway.
But it's a new hat.
She had wanted to wear it before they got home. She had wanted to wear it at the market, too, and she had held back the whole time. Because Dorothy was Oz's big sister.
"I kept holding back, because Oz doesn't have a hat and I felt sorry for him…."
Her lips puckered all on their own. She thought the crying was about to come out. Dad laughed and scooped her up.
"While you wait for the hat, Dad will tell you a fun story."
"…Really?"
"Yes."
"The whole time, until the hat is done?"
"Of course."
She liked the stories Dad told. The tears still came a little, but the sound of crying pulled itself back in.
"What story are you going to tell this time?"
"An adventure story. Dorothy's going to be an adventurer, so she likes adventure stories! Dad, an adventure story!"
"Hmm. Then maybe Sinbad, this time."
Mom set a basket of scissors and cloth beside the bed. The lamp flame swayed and danced, and Dad began.
"Long ago, in a certain country, there lived a boy named Sinbad."
"Dad, why is Sinbad's name like that?"
"Well. I suppose, in that country, Sinbad was a common name."
"And Dorothy?"
"Dorothy, in that country…"
Dad looked at her a moment, then lifted the hair on her forehead.
"In that country, Dorothy was a name only a very special person could have. A name given only to a splendid adventurer."
"Like me?"
"Yes. Like our Dorothy. In that country, Dorothy is a name for a woman who is very strong, and cool, and wonderful. She isn't frightened even by bad people, and even when she's scared, she can be brave. And if she falls, she gets up again. Fall ten times, and she rises an eleventh, and someday she is sure to succeed. That's the woman who carries that name. It's a very fine thing."
Was getting up after you fell what made you cool? Dorothy thought it was strange, but if Dad said so, then it must be so.
"Dorothy gets up when she falls, too. Is Dorothy cool?"
"Yes. Very cool."
Beside them, Mom laughed softly. The idiot sickness seemed all better. She seemed to have gone back to being the old Mom.
Dad began the story of Sinbad again. Dorothy wanted to listen harder, but strangely she was sleepy. Nodding, and still wanting to keep hearing, she rubbed her eyes again and again. She felt as if she had become the Dorothy of Sinbad's country, the one who got up again no matter how she fell.
…Sinbad was astonished. He had thought it was an island, but it was a whale…
Dad's voice seemed to come from very far away.
All at once a place full of water opened in her head. A river so huge she could not see the end of it.
The herring she had seen at the market today was swimming in that river. There were several trees on its back.
Ah. So this was a whale.
A herring bigger than anything Dorothy had ever seen floated quietly on the water and called to the boy on its back.
Huh? When had he shown up? Where was Sinbad? It felt a little strange. But there was no time to think for long. Sinbad laughed—heh—and answered.
Then Dorothy popped into being in front of Sinbad, a cloth wound round and round her head, and Oz set on top of it.
Sinbad was terribly strong, but Dorothy was braver. She fell ten times, and on the eleventh she sprang up and shoved him. Sinbad lost his balance and tumbled off the herring-whale. Floating on the river, he shouted.
Heh heh heh. Just like Dad said. Dorothy falls ten times, gets up the eleventh, and beats everything.
Then she thought she heard Dad's voice, just for a moment.
Mom's whispering came after it.
She heard that far. After that, Mom's voice and Dad's voice were gone.
Dorothy met Sinbad again on the herring-whale. This time they became friends, and the two of them jumped and played to their hearts' content on the back of the great whale.
For some reason Oz was up on Dorothy's head, covering her ears with his long ears. Strange.
Oz, why are you covering Dorothy's ears?
She asked him, but she never heard an answer. Her ears were covered, so she couldn't hear a thing.