Tamlyn by James Moloney

he said brightly. ‘Is there an inn in your village that would welcome a tired traveller?’
    â€˜There’s an inn,’ I told him. ‘Whether you’d call it welcoming is another matter. If you don’t like being overcharged, I’d advise you to keep going.’
    The stranger smiled sagely at my warning. ‘Ah, a typical innkeeper, then. I’ll keep my wits about me, but I don’t mind paying good money if the beds are soft and the beer is strong.’
    â€˜Then Mr Nettlefield will suit you fine. Just keep on this road and you’ll see his sign around the next corner.’
    He inclined his head in thanks and set off, leaving me with the faintest sense that I’d seen him somewhere before. Once he had disappeared around the corner, I hurried to find Tamlyn. There was always the danger he would be recognised by travellers, especially any from the direction of Vonne, so it was best he stayed clear of the inn until the guest was on his way.
    A fine plan you would think, except this stranger did not leave the next morning. Instead, I discovered him sitting on a stool outside Nettlefield’s door, with his shoes off and his blisters exposed to the sun.
    â€˜Are your feet too sore for walking today, sir?’ I asked.
    He recognised me from the previous evening. ‘Oh, hello. It seems my feet aren’t suited to walking, no, but that’s not why I’ve stopped. This village is as far as I intend to go. I’m looking for someone, you see — a young man who’s come recently into the area.’
    I was immediately alert. Had he already asked inside the inn? Even if he had, he wouldn’t have received much of an answer — Mr Nettlefield was a surly character at the best of times and sensible enough not to answer questions from strangers that might land the village in strife. It occurred to me that if this man was the king’s spy, he was a poor one. He’d come right out and told me his business, which gave me the advantage.
    â€˜There are plenty of young men in Haywode and on the farms nearby, none of them much of a prospect as a husband,’ I said with a wink at the man, who grinned back. ‘Why are you looking for him?’
    The stranger sat up straighter on the stool, his grin quickly fading. ‘I have some news for him, not very pleasant news, I’m afraid. Also an item to give him from someone who loved him, or tried to, at least.’
    I was intrigued by the way he said this, in a wistful tone that hinted at regret and confusion. ‘Does this young man have a name?’ I asked.
    â€˜He is most likely using another, because he doesn’t want to be found. But I’ve known him since he was a boy growing up in Vonne, and he will know me.’
    â€˜You’re from Vonne, then?’
    â€˜Yes, and it’s taken me three days to walk so far. No wonder I’m more blister than skin,’ he said, looking down at his red and weeping feet. ‘But I must complete my mission and I’m hoping you will help.’
    Who else could he be looking for but Tamlyn?
    â€˜I wish I could, but all the young men I know have lived here for years,’ I said, trying desperately to force an innocent look onto my face — without success. I could feel the blood flushing my cheeks, but if I rushed away now because of my blushes, it would look as though I had something to hide. ‘Besides, I don’t even know your name,’ I said grandly, hoping this would give me back the advantage.
    â€˜Ah, forgive my bad manners.’ He stood up in his bare feet, gave a little bow and said, ‘My name is Miston Dessar.’
    He could have said he was the first devil of the underworld and I would have been less stunned. Miston Dessar — the name Coyle had used to trick me into passing Lucien into his care.
    Quickly, Silvermay, think this through , I urged myself. What was this man up to? If Coyle had sent him,