A Tapestry of Spells by Lynn Kurland Page A

suspect that.”
    She looked up at him searchingly. “I don’t suppose you would change him back to what he was. For a certain price, of course.”
    “Not here in the street,” he said, because it was easier than giving her reasons that would only lead her to ask other questions and dig again into her very light purse. He flipped Ned a coin. “Feed yourself and the dog inside, lad. Stay out of sight until we come back to fetch you.”
    Ned nodded and clicked at what had no doubt been a decent chestnut gelding at some point in the past. They disappeared into the stable without fanfare. Ruith nodded up the way.
    “The Silver Swan is a safe place,” he said. “We’ll stay there.”
    “I’ll agree to it only because I’m not in the habit of arguing with my elders,” she muttered. “This time.”
    He could only imagine the conversations they would have when she realized he was not exactly who he’d been pretending to be. He put that thought aside for use as a distraction later and walked to the inn with her.
    He found the innkeeper and negotiated for a quiet room in the back on the upper floor where there was a modicum of safety. He followed the man to it, saw that a fire had already been lit in the hearth, then lifted the curtain slightly and looked out the window. There was a garden below, covered partly by a small roof jutting out from the floor beneath him. Useful enough if a hasty leave-taking was required. He handed the man the full price for a single night and a pair of meals, then escorted him out the door.
    He shut it, then took off the majority of his weapons and propped them up in a corner. Knives down his boots would be enough for the morning. He looked at Sarah.
    “You’ll be safe enough here, I daresay,” he said, walking over to the door.
    “Where are you going?”
    “Out for a walk,” he said. He put his hand on the latch, then paused. “Lock the door after the maid comes, and please sleep. I’ll take the key and return when I’ve had a look around.”
    She stood by the fire, wrapped in his spare cloak, her face grey with weariness. “I don’t understand why you won’t just cast a spell, or waggle your fingers, or some other such rot to find him. This seems like a great deal of fuss for something that could be solved so simply with magic—though I can’t believe I’m suggesting it.” She shook her head slowly. “I must be losing my wits.”
    “You aren‘t,” he said simply. “As for the other, there are times when ’tis best to go about your business without leaving a trail of magic behind for others to follow.” He opened the door. “I’ll return.”
    She only watched him, silently.
    He left the chamber, shut the door behind him, then found another doorway to linger in and wait. He supposed his life would have been much easier if he’d allowed himself even a simple spell of un-noticing, but since he couldn’t, he’d become very adept at blending into crowds and standing in shadows.
    He remained very still as a maid with a pair of serving lads arrived with enough food to feed half a dozen souls. They were let in, then all three left without incident. Ruith waited until he heard the lock turn before he took himself downstairs and through the great room. He left the inn, then turned to his left and walked quickly along the street, mingling with townspeople hurrying about their own business.
    Bruaih wasn’t a large place, but it was enormous when compared to Doìre. Ruith had been there many times over the years and found it to be nothing more than what it purported to be: a bustling hamlet of not a single honorable soul. Only in Shettlestoune, or so the villagers said with pride, never mind that Bruaih wasn’t technically part of Shettlestoune county. Close enough for a sloppy spell, or so the saying went. Geography aside, the town lived up to its self-proclaimed reputation. Ruith expected to be lied to, cheated, and robbed if at all possible every time he set foot in the