Chương 59: What We Carry

Bera noticed the wrapped metal before I reached the middle of the hall. Her staff slowed through the end of a turn while Holt pushed open the western windows. Warm air came in with the smell of stone, dust, and something heavy with garlic cooking farther down the lane. I left the bundle against the wall beside the wooden case and went to change. When I came back, Bera was still looking at both of them.

"You finally brought it."

"It needs a brace." Her eyes moved to the case.

"And that?"

"Later." She gave me a look but let it go. Before training started, I told them I was planning to take guild work outside Caldris. Holt stopped halfway through stacking my old training cards, while Bera rested the end of her staff on the floor. Neither seemed surprised for long.

"The restaurant?" Holt asked.

"Tovan has the kitchen. Nessa has the accounts. Evelyn handles most of the things nobody notices until they go wrong." Bera's mouth shifted slightly.

"So they finally escaped needing you." I thought about that.

"Something like that." She stepped into the chalk square. The first exchange put me on the mat. My shoulder hit first, then my hip, and I rolled before getting my feet under me. Bera was waiting by the time I stood. She took my staff on the next attempt and nearly took it again on the one after that. We kept going until my shirt stuck between my shoulders and dust marked both knees of my trousers.

Holt corrected me when my weight drifted too far forward, usually with a hand against my shoulder and very little sympathy. Outside, a cart passed the open windows, followed a few minutes later by steady hammering from somewhere nearby. When we stopped, Bera leaned her staff against the wall and reached for the water jug. I went to the case. The latch clicked softly. Two dark bottles sat inside. Bera stopped drinking. Holt came over from the edge of the training square, wiping chalk from her fingers.

She saw the labels and slowed before reaching the bench. For several seconds, neither of them said anything. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Bera looked at me.

"Joe." I took one bottle out and set it in front of her. The second went near Holt. Holt did not touch hers.

"These are Batch Eleven."

"Yeah." Bera stared down at the bottle.

"The Batch Eleven?" I nodded. The hall went quiet except for the curtain near the office door moving against the wall.

"I heard what they sold for," Bera said.

"So did I." She looked back at me, waiting. I nudged the bottle a little closer.

"It's yours." That only seemed to confuse her more. Holt glanced from her bottle to me.

"Why?" I looked toward her right shoulder, then Bera's left knee. Both of them noticed. Bera's expression changed first.

"Oh." I had seen the knee bother her on wet days and after longer sessions. Holt's shoulder was harder to notice unless she was tired, but once I saw the smaller turn she used to protect it, I kept seeing it. Neither of them talked about it.

"You two helped me," I said.

"A lot." Bera looked at the bottle again. I could have said more. There were months of bad footwork, bruised ribs, dropped staffs, and lessons that had gone well past the time either of them needed to stay. None of that needed listing.

"I thought these should be yours." Holt finally picked up her bottle. She turned it once between her hands, careful around the seal. Bera reached for hers a moment later and held it by the neck, still looking faintly suspicious of the whole situation.

"You're giving away two of these," Bera said.

"Yes."

"For free."

"Yes." She rubbed her thumb over the label and gave up trying to find another version of the question.

"Thank you." It came out quieter than usual. Holt looked at me for a moment before giving a small nod.

"Thank you, Joe." I nodded back. Lunch seemed easier after that. We carried the food into the narrow yard behind the hall and sat on the low step beneath the windows. Tovan had packed cold chicken, rolls, pickled vegetables, and bread custard. Laundry moved above the dividing wall, and two children ran past the open gate chasing a wooden hoop that bounced loudly over the stones. The bottles stayed beside Holt and Bera while we ate.

Bera touched hers once when the hoop clattered past close to the gate, steadying it before it rolled. Holt kept hers beside her knee. Neither hurried. When the food was gone, I reminded them about taking the potion after eating and avoiding anything else medicinal for the day. Bera gave me a tired look.

"We heard you the first time."

"Good." They opened the bottles. For several minutes, nothing changed. Someone upstairs shook a cloth out a window. A wagon passed. The sunlight reached a little farther across the yard. Then Bera put a hand on her left knee. She bent it once and frowned. Again. She stood without saying anything and walked to the gate. On the way back she moved faster, then went up the three steps into the hall. I watched the second one. She usually slowed there. This time she didn't.

Bera came back down and tried the steps again, and by the top she was smiling. Holt had started moving her shoulder. She rolled it forward, then back, slowly at first. After a moment she lifted her arm over her head. She held it there.

"Doesn't catch," she said. Bera came back into the yard and shifted most of her weight onto the left leg.

"That's weird."

"You're complaining?" Holt asked.

"No." Bera bent the knee again, almost experimentally.

"Just weird." We stayed outside a little longer. Holt kept moving her shoulder whenever she seemed to forget about it. Bera stood differently too, without the slight habit of keeping weight off one side. I had seen the potion do stranger things. This felt different. Maybe because I knew these two. Eventually Bera picked up her staff and Holt gathered the training cards. The empty bottles stayed on the bench beside the open case. I looked at the wrapped armor against the wall.

Bera was already stepping back into the chalk square. I picked up my staff and followed her.