“Knew of him,” she replied. “His brother is a merchant captain with the League of Ilvaren. I’ve known that. But Secrist is reckless. Ban him, trying to hang a knight from Owen Draw in the Foxtale. What in Pitan was he thinking!” She looked up at Thealos and flushed. “I’m sorry for my language. I do that when I lose my temper.”
Thealos smiled. “I have that problem myself. I’ve said worse, and recently.” He liked Flent and Ticastasy. They had both come to his aid. He owed them something for their trouble. “Neither of you are safe here.” He glanced down at Flent, who nodded, listening to him carefully. “The Kiran Thall will probably come back. So will the men who were here for me.”
He felt a prick at the back of his neck, but he saw Jaerod’s reflection in the serving girl’s cinnamon-brown eyes. The Sleepwalker stood behind him.
“He’s right,” Jaerod said, looking down at the two. “It will be dangerous for both of you to stay here. Especially you, Drugaen.”
“Why?” Flent demanded, eyes cautious yet curious.
Thealos smiled. He put his hand on Ticastasy’s shoulder. “You were willing to guide me to shelter. Let us do the same for you. Do you know a place where they can stay, Jaerod?”
Her brown eyes looked into Thealos’. “Who are you, my lord?”
“They’ll come with us,” the Sleepwalker said.
The serving girl wiped her eyes on her blouse and shook her head. “I’m not afraid of Secrist or the Kiran Thall. We’ll have watchmen looking for them. And they’ll all spend a fortnight in the River Cellars if they ever ride into Sol again.”
“You must come with us,” Jaerod insisted.
“This…this is our home, Sleepwalker. Roye depends on us. He can’t run the Foxtale by himself. Flent, tell them!”
Flent stared at Jaerod. “It’s dangerous because of the magic. Isn’t it? The magic that healed me.”
Jaerod nodded. “You are not safe here. Come with us.”
“Flent! I can’t believe you’re considering this! We don’t know who they are!”
The stubby Drugaen rose to his feet and slid the Sheven-Ingen axe in his belt hoop. He looked into her frantic eyes. “I should be lying here dead on the floor, ‘Stasy.” He waved his hand at the mess of blood on his shirt. The inn was rank-smelling as the serving girls brought out floor brushes and mops. “We leave tonight?” Flent asked Jaerod, and the Sleepwalker nodded.
“I won’t let you go alone!” she seethed.
He gave her a frown. “Then grab some clothes, girl. Get moving.”
The serving girl muttered under her breath and nodded, standing and folding her arms. “All right. But at least tell us where.”
“Landmoor,” Jaerod said, staring back across the tavern at something. A small smile flickered on his mouth.
Across the ramshackle tavern, the knight from Owen Draw slowly bound a wound he had earned in the fight with the Kiran Thall. He was watching them.
XVI
Thealos and his companions huddled around a small fire in a grove of elm near the Valairus shore. It was well after midnight. Fog swirled around the sheltering trees, chilling their cheeks with salty wetness. The fire snapped, its tiny flames whipped by the bone-cold gusts from the sea. Thealos pulled the new cloak tighter around his throat, keeping the hood from blowing off.
Flent Shago leaned against a stump of driftwood, munching on a handful of chickpeas. The cold didn’t appear to be bothering him at all. He had a big travel sack next to him in the sand and grass, and a small round cask propped up his arm. He’d changed the bloody tatters for a fresh shirt and pants, a huge leather belt and buckle, and some sturdy walking boots. On his hip, he carried the double-bladed axe. He had boasted to Thealos earlier that he’d won it in a game of Bones from a Sheven-Ingen sailor. Ticastasy nestled close to the Drugaen, sharing his warmth. Thealos barely recognized her. Gone were the cheap tinkling bracelets and frilly green skirt he had seen her in earlier. She wore traveling clothes – sturdy brown pants with boots and a light loose cotton-twined shirt. A thick cloak with a wide hood draped along her back, and her dark hair was tied back with a colorful violet band. He noticed a thin knife in her belt. She shivered as the wind battered them again and stared into the fire, lost in her thoughts.
Thealos looked across the fire at Jaerod. The Sleepwalker crouched before the logs, prodding them with a stick as if to coax more warmth from them. The crash of the ocean waves on the shore was followed by a steady hiss as the tide retreated. The sound was comforting and brought back memories of his visits to Jan Lee with Correl.
“How many times have you been out to sea?” Jaerod asked Thealos over the dying firelight.
Thealos shook his head and folded his arms, shivering. “I was just thinking of that. I’ve never been to the East Kingdoms, but I plan to someday. Jan-Lee is pretty…and warmer. This fog is cold enough to freeze wine.”