didn’t he? Who else had the credentials for such a mission, familiar with Channen as well as the truce? Who else would Ordo risk without hesitation?
Being young and new to court, without influence or ties.
“Do the rumors give a name?” he insisted.
Harty began to shake his head, but Hagar caught Bannan’s urgency and frowned in thought, then his face cleared. “A baron. It was a baron. West—something.”
“Westietas.” A flash of recognition in the other man’s eyes. Ancestors Dire and Disastrous.
Emon Westietas. Lila’s earnest, unsoldierly Emon.
“Tell me everything,” Bannan urged, abrupt and harsh. “Quickly!”
“You’ve ’eard it.” Harty stood, bumping the table so piles of dishware rattled and slid. “We want no trouble w’the prince,” he said gruffly. “Come, lad.”
“I’m sorry—” but they were gone. Bannan ran a hand through his hair. He’d startled them, scared them, to be truthful. Where were his skills as an interrogator? But this wasn’t any interrogation. This was about Lila—
“Bannan.” He looked up to meet Davi’s frown. “What is it?”
“I know this baron,” Bannan admitted. “He’s family.”
The big smith was a guileless man. Concern warred with confusion on his face. “If you’re noble, what are you doing in Marrowdell?”
“Trying to be a farmer.” Bannan’s lips twisted. “Westietas is my sister’s husband.” It didn’t bear imagining, what Lila might do. “If only I knew more.”
“There’s the mail,” Davi observed.
Of course! Lila would have written. He’d have news—Bannan half rose, then slumped back down. “I was told to pick up our bags in the morning.”
“Cammi keeps them in the inn’s storehouse. Here.” Fingers slipped into a vest pocket and returned with a large black key. The smith looked sheepish but determined. “She lets me check for anything that might upset Mother. Come,” the key went back into hiding with a little pat. “We’ll visit the horses together then see what’s in the mail. Help us both sleep better,” he added keenly.
Bannan nodded, unable to say a word.
Friends indeed.
Sleeping in a bed alone, in a room alone—and a bed and room not her own—had taken some getting used to, but Jenn Nalynn had done it.
Sleeping in a house alone?
She sat up, hugging her pillow. That was harder.
She missed the little sounds. She hadn’t realized how they’d filled the space around her heart. Zehr’s boots on the floor below, Loee’s cries for attention, Gallie’s quiet murmurs. Without them, the house felt empty.
Because it was, Jenn reminded herself. Or almost.
A lump shifted near her feet, the Emms’ house toad having taken her invitation to sit on her lap to being welcome on her bed and who knew where else? It was like sleeping with a cold rock, which would be fine in summer, but by then the toads were trying to cool themselves.
Moonlight shone through a gap in the curtains; the papers on the desk were pale and her color-filled map faded. Worst of all, the shadows stole any extra light and grew, if possible, darker.
She was not wasting a candle because of shadows. Use only what you must, Aunt Sybb had told her, and not a bit more. She’d meant her fine stationery, which had come in quite handy this past summer and been completely used up by the end, but it applied to candles and their improper use, Jenn was sure.
She could wish the moon a little brighter.
Not that she would. Jenn hugged the pillow tighter, suddenly curious. Could she? Was the moon part of Marrowdell and the edge, or part of the wider world beyond? She wanted to know so much she almost asked the toad.
But didn’t. Such questions distressed them, whether they knew the answer or not.
Instead of wishing at the moon, Jenn carefully climbed out of bed, claiming one of the quilts for a wrap, then went to the window and drew aside the curtains. So invited, moonlight streamed inside. She looked out, holding her breath so she
Being young and new to court, without influence or ties.
“Do the rumors give a name?” he insisted.
Harty began to shake his head, but Hagar caught Bannan’s urgency and frowned in thought, then his face cleared. “A baron. It was a baron. West—something.”
“Westietas.” A flash of recognition in the other man’s eyes. Ancestors Dire and Disastrous.
Emon Westietas. Lila’s earnest, unsoldierly Emon.
“Tell me everything,” Bannan urged, abrupt and harsh. “Quickly!”
“You’ve ’eard it.” Harty stood, bumping the table so piles of dishware rattled and slid. “We want no trouble w’the prince,” he said gruffly. “Come, lad.”
“I’m sorry—” but they were gone. Bannan ran a hand through his hair. He’d startled them, scared them, to be truthful. Where were his skills as an interrogator? But this wasn’t any interrogation. This was about Lila—
“Bannan.” He looked up to meet Davi’s frown. “What is it?”
“I know this baron,” Bannan admitted. “He’s family.”
The big smith was a guileless man. Concern warred with confusion on his face. “If you’re noble, what are you doing in Marrowdell?”
“Trying to be a farmer.” Bannan’s lips twisted. “Westietas is my sister’s husband.” It didn’t bear imagining, what Lila might do. “If only I knew more.”
“There’s the mail,” Davi observed.
Of course! Lila would have written. He’d have news—Bannan half rose, then slumped back down. “I was told to pick up our bags in the morning.”
“Cammi keeps them in the inn’s storehouse. Here.” Fingers slipped into a vest pocket and returned with a large black key. The smith looked sheepish but determined. “She lets me check for anything that might upset Mother. Come,” the key went back into hiding with a little pat. “We’ll visit the horses together then see what’s in the mail. Help us both sleep better,” he added keenly.
Bannan nodded, unable to say a word.
Friends indeed.
Sleeping in a bed alone, in a room alone—and a bed and room not her own—had taken some getting used to, but Jenn Nalynn had done it.
Sleeping in a house alone?
She sat up, hugging her pillow. That was harder.
She missed the little sounds. She hadn’t realized how they’d filled the space around her heart. Zehr’s boots on the floor below, Loee’s cries for attention, Gallie’s quiet murmurs. Without them, the house felt empty.
Because it was, Jenn reminded herself. Or almost.
A lump shifted near her feet, the Emms’ house toad having taken her invitation to sit on her lap to being welcome on her bed and who knew where else? It was like sleeping with a cold rock, which would be fine in summer, but by then the toads were trying to cool themselves.
Moonlight shone through a gap in the curtains; the papers on the desk were pale and her color-filled map faded. Worst of all, the shadows stole any extra light and grew, if possible, darker.
She was not wasting a candle because of shadows. Use only what you must, Aunt Sybb had told her, and not a bit more. She’d meant her fine stationery, which had come in quite handy this past summer and been completely used up by the end, but it applied to candles and their improper use, Jenn was sure.
She could wish the moon a little brighter.
Not that she would. Jenn hugged the pillow tighter, suddenly curious. Could she? Was the moon part of Marrowdell and the edge, or part of the wider world beyond? She wanted to know so much she almost asked the toad.
But didn’t. Such questions distressed them, whether they knew the answer or not.
Instead of wishing at the moon, Jenn carefully climbed out of bed, claiming one of the quilts for a wrap, then went to the window and drew aside the curtains. So invited, moonlight streamed inside. She looked out, holding her breath so she
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