watch."
Every pair of eyes in the place riveted to her. Thanks, Dajania , Shette thought sourly, pretending she didn't see the bartender's not entirely pleasant smile.
She threaded her way between tables to the women. "Laine's shoeing Spike," she said. "Figured I'd take the chance when I could get it."
"He's a mite overprotective, Laine is," Sevita said. Unlike Dajania's bold painted eyes and dark hair, Sevita had a gentle appearance— soft brown hair and big hazel eyes that she painted with such subtlety they sweetened her features without looking painted at all. She was soft-spoken and pleasant— but she'd killed a man once for his cruelty when they were together.
Shette gave an elaborate shrug, doing her best to dismiss Laine's influence. Once these women started talking about him, it was bound to go on for a while, and in some part of her mind she wished he would just go ahead and sleep with them so he wouldn't represent such a challenge to them anymore. It wasn't like he'd never—
But she wasn't supposed to know about that. She couldn't help a secretive little smile, and it was something the women recognized right off.
"Shette's had a thought, now, she has," Dajania declared, casually recovering a copper that had strayed, somehow, too close to one of the tavern women's piles. "Shette, this here's Erlya, Sontra, and Heliga." Erlya was the cottage witchy, Sontra a dowdy and bleary-eyed woman who hadn't donned anything besides an old, patched dressing gown, and Heliga a small, pointy-faced girl with a barely perceptible harelip who, Shette realized, couldn't be much older than she was.
"Guides grant our acquaintance be a good one," she said, the politest greeting she knew, even if it was T'ieran. The girl snickered without bothering to hide it and Sevita gave her a low-key, even stare. The snicker stopped.
"Never mind, Shette," Sevita said. "Some of us haven't had the benefit of much polite company. Heliga, Shette here's the one who did the pretty stitching on my blouse."
"Ooh," the girl said. "It's wonderful, Shette. I want to learn it, someday." Her words were slurred by a severe lisp; it took Shette a moment to puzzle them out, and by then the hopeful look on the girl's face had all but faded.
"Well," Shette said, shrugging again. "I'll probably be here a handful of days. But you'd have to get the needle and threads; I used everything up but the mending thread."
Heliga nodded enthusiastically. "I know someone in the commonstall who carries it. He's got a liking for me, too. I can get it."
Inwardly, Shette winced. She thought she knew exactly how Heliga would buy the goods. Stop thinking like that , she told herself. She wouldn't make any friends like if it showed on her face as clearly as Laine's thoughts ran across his own features.
From the fireplace, Erlya muttered an alarmed curse. She threw herself away from the hearth, right before the chimney made a muffled whoomph ; a cloud of soot dropped onto the hearth, accompanied by large particles of creosote ticking their way down. Dowdy Sontra sniggered the same amusement that showed on all their faces— except for Erlya's, as she got to her feet and vigorously slapped soot off the leg that hadn't quite gotten out of range.
"Maybe you ought to just do it like the rest of us, witchie," Dajania said through her smile.
"As if you knew anything about it," Erlya snapped.
Now that their attention wasn't on her, Shette grew suddenly bolder, and almost without thinking, she said, "Do you know who Varien is?"
As one, they turned their surprise her way, so that she wished she hadn't spoken at all. Then Sontra gave a lazy smile and said, "I know what he likes," and the strange tension was broken. The women picked up the conversation that centered around their accounting. Shette wasn't excluded, but there was little she could add to it.
In time, Erlya moved around the edge of the crowded table until she was next to Shette. "You mean Varien, the King's wizard,
Every pair of eyes in the place riveted to her. Thanks, Dajania , Shette thought sourly, pretending she didn't see the bartender's not entirely pleasant smile.
She threaded her way between tables to the women. "Laine's shoeing Spike," she said. "Figured I'd take the chance when I could get it."
"He's a mite overprotective, Laine is," Sevita said. Unlike Dajania's bold painted eyes and dark hair, Sevita had a gentle appearance— soft brown hair and big hazel eyes that she painted with such subtlety they sweetened her features without looking painted at all. She was soft-spoken and pleasant— but she'd killed a man once for his cruelty when they were together.
Shette gave an elaborate shrug, doing her best to dismiss Laine's influence. Once these women started talking about him, it was bound to go on for a while, and in some part of her mind she wished he would just go ahead and sleep with them so he wouldn't represent such a challenge to them anymore. It wasn't like he'd never—
But she wasn't supposed to know about that. She couldn't help a secretive little smile, and it was something the women recognized right off.
"Shette's had a thought, now, she has," Dajania declared, casually recovering a copper that had strayed, somehow, too close to one of the tavern women's piles. "Shette, this here's Erlya, Sontra, and Heliga." Erlya was the cottage witchy, Sontra a dowdy and bleary-eyed woman who hadn't donned anything besides an old, patched dressing gown, and Heliga a small, pointy-faced girl with a barely perceptible harelip who, Shette realized, couldn't be much older than she was.
"Guides grant our acquaintance be a good one," she said, the politest greeting she knew, even if it was T'ieran. The girl snickered without bothering to hide it and Sevita gave her a low-key, even stare. The snicker stopped.
"Never mind, Shette," Sevita said. "Some of us haven't had the benefit of much polite company. Heliga, Shette here's the one who did the pretty stitching on my blouse."
"Ooh," the girl said. "It's wonderful, Shette. I want to learn it, someday." Her words were slurred by a severe lisp; it took Shette a moment to puzzle them out, and by then the hopeful look on the girl's face had all but faded.
"Well," Shette said, shrugging again. "I'll probably be here a handful of days. But you'd have to get the needle and threads; I used everything up but the mending thread."
Heliga nodded enthusiastically. "I know someone in the commonstall who carries it. He's got a liking for me, too. I can get it."
Inwardly, Shette winced. She thought she knew exactly how Heliga would buy the goods. Stop thinking like that , she told herself. She wouldn't make any friends like if it showed on her face as clearly as Laine's thoughts ran across his own features.
From the fireplace, Erlya muttered an alarmed curse. She threw herself away from the hearth, right before the chimney made a muffled whoomph ; a cloud of soot dropped onto the hearth, accompanied by large particles of creosote ticking their way down. Dowdy Sontra sniggered the same amusement that showed on all their faces— except for Erlya's, as she got to her feet and vigorously slapped soot off the leg that hadn't quite gotten out of range.
"Maybe you ought to just do it like the rest of us, witchie," Dajania said through her smile.
"As if you knew anything about it," Erlya snapped.
Now that their attention wasn't on her, Shette grew suddenly bolder, and almost without thinking, she said, "Do you know who Varien is?"
As one, they turned their surprise her way, so that she wished she hadn't spoken at all. Then Sontra gave a lazy smile and said, "I know what he likes," and the strange tension was broken. The women picked up the conversation that centered around their accounting. Shette wasn't excluded, but there was little she could add to it.
In time, Erlya moved around the edge of the crowded table until she was next to Shette. "You mean Varien, the King's wizard,
Similar Books
