The roadside sign said that Fork was west and Southbridge was south and Westen was east. There was no sign pointing to the north road, where Charles and Heather had come from.
“Fork then?” Charles asked.
“I don’t think so,” Heather said. “Too many people too close together, I’d hate to get angry in that big of a city.”
They didn’t really need to resupply. In the week they’d been on the road, they’d found work each evening as either smiths or tinkers. Gus had given Charles a hammer and a tinker’s anvil as well as a pack to carry them in. The work they’d found along the way had gotten them plenty of salted food and dried fruit for the road and a small amount of coin. Charles now wore his sword sheathed across his back and Heather wore a red leather apron around her waist. Their clothes fit, as did their spare clothes, though both were in need of washing.
“Southbridge it is,” Charles headed along the road to the south with Heather at his side.
A few miles down the road a covered wagon pulled alongside and slowed. “You two look like you’ve a long road ahead of you and your feet could use a rest.”
The man was older than Charles by enough that his hair was graying at the temples. He wore light leather armor, which was not uncommon among men who traveled regularly. The carriage was painted in a splattering of colors. The lines of the paint were neat and straight, but the colors were varied and looked like they were either chosen at random or chosen deliberately to disturb anyone’s aesthetic senses.
“I am Jonah of the Wandering Rose,” the man on the wagon said. “Where are you headed?”
“Melnith,” Heather said.
Charles nodded.
“I’m not going all the way there, but I can give your feet a rest for a day or two,” Jonah said. We’re camped two days walk west of the river.”
“How far is that from here?” Charles asked.
“Five days on foot, two on my wagon,” Jonah said. “I travel this road regularly so I know all the best places to stop for lunch and for a good clean bed.”
“Do you always stop and offer people rides?” Heather asked.
“Just often enough to have someone to talk to on the long ride,” Jonah said. “You two look like you’ve got quite a story.”
“Maybe we do,” Charles said. “If it’s all the same, I’d rather not share that story today.”
“Then hop on,” Jonah said. “I’ll play the role of story teller.”
“I don’t want to walk anymore,” Heather said.
Charles shrugged, the man did have a sword strapped to the driver’s bench, but he was still only one man. He didn’t seem like a threat. “Okay,” he said. He helped Heather onto the wagon then climbed on himself.
“Welcome aboard,” Jonah said. “I promised a story, so here goes. This is a story I taught Thomas Boncanta himself. It’s the story of a woman I once met who changed history with her sword. Let me tell you the tale of Legend of Phyre.”