‘So you know how I feel,’ he said.
Flora smiled at him. ‘I know.’ Then she put her hand over his and squeezed it. ‘Maybe after supper I can make you feel better.’
Smiling wryly he raised his brows and sighed. At least someone was getting a free supper tonight.
Well, I do feel better, he thought, a few hours later, stretching and smiling smugly as his eyes opened again; the candle was guttering near its finish, casting patterns of shadow on the ceiling. A lot better.
He’d brought her to his best place; a half-ruined house with one very good room that he’d done up. Jimmy opened his eyes all the way, stretched again, yawned, and turned—only to find her gone. His sense of well-being undiminished, he crossed his arms beneath his head and remembered.
Just before they went to sleep she had thanked him.
He grinned. I’m a hero and no mistake, by the gods, he thought.
Suddenly the door opened and he jumped up, clutching the sheets.
‘Good morning!’ Flora sang.
‘I thought you’d gone,’ Jimmy said, one hand over his galloping heart and the other slipping a dagger back under the pillow.
‘You’re not going to get rid of me that easily,’ she said, laughing.
She pulled off her shawl. Hidden within its folds was a loaf of raisin-studded bread. Saliva rushed into his mouth at the smell of it, sweet and yeasty at the same time. She extracted a pot of honey out of one pocket and a slab of butter, wrapped in a handkerchief, from the other.
‘Where did you buy that?’ Jimmy asked; there wasn’t a market near this place, or a bakery.
‘Buy?’ she asked in astonishment. ‘I’m not as good as you are, Jimmy the Hand, but I made my name stealing baked goods, I’ll remind you!’
True, he thought.
Jimmy rose from the bed, wrapping a sheet around himself, smiling when Flora laughed at his sudden modesty. She sliced the bread while he poured out the rest of the wine they’d brought home the night before and they sat down to the important business of filling their stomachs.
After they’d eaten breakfast, things began to happen with the honey and the butter and they soon ended up in bed again.
As they lay quietly in one another’s arms Flora said, ‘I found out where Land’s End is.’
Her words cut through him like a knot of buzzing insects briefly invading his middle. He suddenly knew this wasn’t going to turn out well.
‘It’s south,’ she went on when he said nothing. ‘Near the Vale of Dreams.’
Thank you, he thought a little sourly. Here I’d just managed to pleasantly forget I’m leaving Krondor an exile, and you went and reminded me.
When Flora spoke her voice held a little irritation; Jimmy felt a brief stab of guilt. She’s only trying to help, after all, he thought.
‘It takes five days to sail there,’ she said, looking across at him. When he didn’t answer and wouldn’t meet her eyes she went on, ‘The fare is four silvers, apiece, to go by ship if we sleep in the hold. They got cabins, but they’re all full of people sailing past Land’s End, on to Great Kesh.’
After a prolonged silence, during which he could feel her eyes giving him sunburn, Jimmy looked at her sidelong. ‘How much by coach?’ he mumbled grudgingly.
‘There’s a ship that sails today at high tide.’
‘Four silvers is pretty steep,’ he snarled. ‘Didn’t it occur to you to bargain?’
Flora turned a scalding glare on him. ‘Yes, Jimmy, it did occur to me. That’s why it’s not six. All right?’
The way she was looking at him, it had better be all right. He changed the subject.
‘When’s high tide?’ he asked. He should know: he’d lived in a seaport town all his life, but had only the vaguest notion, since the knowledge was of no great use to a thief who didn’t work the docks.
Flora stretched luxuriously before answering — the sight of which improved his mood somewhat. ‘In about three or four hours, I’d say,’ she answered.
‘Well if we’re supposed to be on this ship we’d better get ourselves organized,’ Jimmy said.
‘I know you don’t want to go,’ Flora said suddenly, her eyes sympathetic.
He smiled at her, appreciating her understanding, and leaned over to give her a kiss. ‘But I have to,’ he said. ‘Thank you for doing what I probably wouldn’t have got around to until tomorrow.’ He considered her. ‘We should probably get you some new clothes, don’t you think?’
She frowned. ‘Why? Most of my things are spanking new.’
‘Ah, true,’ he said, somewhat taken aback.
It hadn’t occurred to him that Flora would want to keep her new dresses. They were cheap and flashy and left the observer in no doubt at all as to what she did for a living. Yet, here she was talking about finding her lost family while wearing them. How should he phrase this?