We left Wardwatch to a bright sky and the promise of a couple of further hours of daylight. The first few streets passed in silence as we plodded along, Mistress Farrow striding ahead. It was clear that none of us three had any long distance walking experience; we had all adopted a normal walk, rather than the march of a soldier or the quick stride of an experienced backpacker.

“Do you know anything that I don’t?” I asked the other two bluntly.

“What do you know?” Jorram said without a trace of sarcasm.

“Not much. I know we must be leaving the city, probably for some kind of training camp. I know that we can’t be the only potential apprentices. Just three of us, out of the entirety of Wardwatch? It doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you think is happening then?” Mirabella asked.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. You were standing around longer than me – did Mistress Farrow say much whilst you all were waiting?”

“No.” Clearly Jorram was a man of few words.

Mirabella expanded on his brevity. “She introduced herself, said we were waiting for four apprentices and then we waited.”

“Four?” That couldn’t be right. Obviously there were only three of us, not including Mistress Farrow herself.

“Four. She absolutely said four.”

“Four.” Jorram agreed.

Mistress Farrow’s voice floated from further down the street, where she had evidently been listening. I flinched.

“I value many virtues and amongst them is timekeeping. Let this be your first lesson. As for your second,” she didn’t stop walking, still striding ahead causing the gap between us to grow wider, “the faster you go, the quicker you will arrive.”

Our leisurely walk turned into a hasty hotfooted stride. It dawned on me, perhaps rather late, that we were still being tested. An apprentice could be dismissed at virtually any time, especially if the grievance were serious enough. Theft, fighting, or destruction of valuables were all obvious reasons to be let go, but I’d heard stories of apprentices being tossed out on their rears with barely the clothes on their backs for far lesser crimes.

“Runners get the usual two month grace period, right?” I whispered seriously to Mirabella. “Or do you think she’s going to ditch us here if we walk too slow?”

“I shan’t be risking it. I don’t think I can go back to my father.”

“Oh. Fair enough.”

“Best walk quickly, Anya.”

We left the city through the north gate. Wardwatch was the only city I had ever been to, but couldn’t imagine that others were arranged much differently. We had a big stone wall ringing the city to protect it against invaders and, of course, the closer to the wall you got the poorer the people. Rich people did not want their houses to be hit by a stray catapult, which made sense to me. The idea was most unpleasant. I’d pay to avoid that if I could.

Shopping areas were dotted around the city, sprinkled in amongst the housing districts. If I wanted cheap wine and a farmer’s market then I didn’t have to go far at all. You wanted something more expensive, then you walked to a nicer area. Simple enough. Our house was far enough in that the wall wasn’t a daily sight for me so I slowed down from my strict march to take it in.

Thick wooden gates reinforced with metal stood open and framed a view of the countryside unfurling before us. It would probably be beautiful without the smell of horse shit being spread over the fields and the pumping of grey smoke from the industrial areas – forges and the like. It was nice enough, I supposed.

Mistress Farrow spoke quietly with a guard on the gate. I stifled a yawn.

“Late night?” Mirabella asked.

“Yeah. Was worried about my apprenticeship offers.” I looked at my feet in mild embarrassment. “Had a few drinks with my mates, kept me awake last night tossing and turning.”

“You wanted to be a runner that much?”

“No.” I didn’t know this girl, didn’t know if we’d end up spending time together once we got wherever it was that we were going or if we’d never see each other again, but I felt a pressure to be honest. It didn’t matter if Mistress Farrow heard; she already knew this wasn’t my life’s dream. “I was just worried about not getting a wage, being poor and hungry, letting my ma down. That sort of thing.”

Mirabella was quiet at that, considering my words as though they presented her with an entirely new worldview.

“What’d they call you anyway?” Jorram asked. “Mee-ra-bell-a.” He exaggerated her name. “Bit long ain’t it.”

“My whole name usually.” Jorram didn’t seem to pay that much heed to the frostiness in her voice.

“You got a short name? Mira? Bell? Bella? Mimi? My folks call me Jor. Or two, on account of me being the second son. Or short, on account of me being the shortest son.” I smiled at that. Jorram was no doubt the son of some good honest, down to earth type folks. Farmers perhaps.

“My name doesn’t get much shorter. An-yaa.” When Mirabella had said my name earlier she’d said it different. Arn-ya. More clipped at the end but more enunciated up front. My tongue was lazier. “Suppose I could be Anne though. Same amount of letters but less sound.”

“When I was born my parents called me Mirabella and if you don’t mind, I would prefer it if you gave me the respect of bothering to get through my full name.”

“Okay.” Clearly we had touched upon a sore spot and I backed off.

“Listen up apprentices!” Mistress Farrow had stopped outside the gates to the side of the track and we mustered up around her. “Can anyone tell me about the surrounding area?”

“Fields.” Jorram answered promptly. “Crops and the like. Some fancy stone roads for the ways to bigger places, but most is packed dirt for goat-pulled wagons and such. Gentle hills heading out that a way,” he pointed in front of us, “which is where I’m supposing that we are headed. Scattering of supporting villages providing what the city folk be needing. Mills, forges, leather working, hunting camps, inns and houses. Some of them are in forest or by the river, like the charcoal burners.”

“Good, good. What about further out?”

“Up north is Fallwreath,” Mirabella cut in before Jorram got his words out of his mouth. “Jorram was describing the concept of supporting communities; smaller towns and villages supporting a larger one by feeding goods inwards. Leather, for example, is hunted and then tanned and brought into the city to be made more valuable by being crafted by a skilled individual.”

I thought that was a curious way to think of it. Like the villagers and townspeople existed to provide us with things that we in the city could make better. Like they were caught in our orbit, existing for us to take and improve. It made me uncomfortable and I shifted from foot to foot.

“There can be villages every mile or so as the land is very arable. These drop off and become hunting and charcoal camps as forestry encroaches, which leads up the slopes that become the hills and fells that make the land hard to traverse.”

Jorram snorted and crossed his arms. “You just said what I said, only the words were fancier.”

“I added valuable context that explained the local area.”

It had been half an hour and there was already a spark of friction between the three of us. Well, mostly between Mirabella and Jorram. This needed a spot of care. I eyed Mistress Farrow hopefully, but she seemed more than happy to sit back and watch us squabble as the day drew away. Which, it occurred to me, might well be the point.

“Right so Fallwreath is about forty miles away, if you were measuring like a bird. Straight line and all that.” I ploughed straight on through any tension. “Out of the farmland, through the forest and into the hills. Hills which go up and up and up until they ain’t really hills but not quite mountains.”

“Fells. A high and barren landscape.”

“Fells, thanks Mirabella.” I enunciated her entire name carefully. “Ridges and wind and cold. You follow the road until you get out the other side and then there’s Fallwreath. So here’s the question: where are we supposed to be going?”

Mistress Farrow smiled with her lips sealed shut.

“Somewhere in the middle,” Mirabella suggested. “Past the villages, cradled in the hills. You could stay hidden then for a goodly while, as people aren’t too prone to leaving the main roads and paths.”

“Some do. Hunters, foragers, people looking for things.” Jorram said.

“But it wouldn’t be so far there one couldn’t get to a nearby village if there was a problem – for food or medicine.” Mirabella simply kept talking. “Not so far for a runner, at least.”

“You got a map?” Jorram asked Mistress Farrow bluntly.

“Practicality and reasoning skills. These are qualities that I value and look for in the runners that I choose. The ability to use one’s brain to think through a problem and the common sense to look for the easiest way to solve it.”

“Don’t suppose you’ll just walk the right way and we can follow you, then?” I asked hopefully but not expectantly. She laughed and pulled a scroll of parchment out of her satchel. “Guess not,” I mumbled.

“I’ll be taking that.” Jorram took the roll of paper and began to unfurl it with a surprising amount of care. “I’m thinking I’m the only one here that can be reading it right.”

Mirabella bristled but didn’t say anything.

“I’m thinking you’re right,” I agreed.