Sandreena felt her heart break. His desires were so modest and his gratitude for even the possibly empty promise of those minor treasures moved her. ‘You shall have them, and more,’ she whispered.
There was silence in the cave while he built the little fire he kept banked during the day; the sun was setting and soon it would be very dark. She lay back and closed her eyes. She needed rest. In a day, two at the most, she had to leave this cave; some men wearing black caps had to die.
*
Sandreena hefted the small branch. The makeshift club was her only weapon, and she felt even more underdressed in the otter skins she wore than she had when she was naked. Sleeping under a pile of rags was one thing, wearing them in place of armour was entirely another.
She was as steady on her feet as she could be on her recent diet of crab-meat, shellfish and the occasional tuber the hermit had cooked up. She could still use a good meal, but knew she wouldn’t have one until she put paid to these injuries and got her armour and clothing back. She hoped her horse was all right; it was one of the best mounts she had ever ridden. The mare was dependable, even-tempered and meaner than a tavern rat when she needed to be.
Sandreena approached the back of the tavern, the last place she had any memory of, and the logical starting point for finding her attackers. She hoped Enos and his family were all right, despite them being particularly unpleasant people.
There were no lights. It was twilight and even if there were no guests, Ivet should have been in the kitchen preparing a meal for her husband and sons. By the time she reached the window, she knew in her bones the family was not all right.
She quickly made her way to the one door in the rear of the building. The door was open, and in the kitchen she found the first body. The woman lay sprawled across the floor, her head at an awkward angle. Sandreena quickly deduced that someone had grabbed the woman from behind and broken her neck. Her clothing was intact, so she had been spared rape before she was killed. Sandreena knew that dead was dead, but at least it had been quick and relatively painless.
The Knight-Adamant had no idea why Ivet had been killed, perhaps for offering a room and food to a traveller, or to ensure no one found out who had killed the wandering knight, or maybe they did it for the pleasure of killing. She knew that the father and boys would be dead in another part of the inn. She wondered if some of the pathetic weapons she had seen them use against the bandits might still be around.
She found the three swords and a badly scarred buckler stored in a food locker. The weapons were so inferior that the murderers had left them behind, even though they’d pillaged about every piece of food from the inn. She found one bag of millet. Even the thought of cooking that simple grain caused her mouth to water in anticipation. She inspected the bag in the gloom and found it unroasted. She’d have to find a pan, start a fire, and then boil some water . . . She threw the bag aside and continued her search.
In another corner of the kitchen she found a platter with an apple on it. It was hardly fresh, but still edible and Sandreena devoured it in moments. She sighed. She would probably end up dead some time in the next few hours, but if she did survive, she vowed she’d never be this hungry again.
She returned outside with the buckler and the best of the three swords - still duller than any sword should be - and went to the window through which she had first spotted the men whom she killed. Given that she had been in the shed when she was struck from behind, she assumed that whoever witnessed her kill his companions must have been standing . . . There! She fixed the point in her mind and hurried over to it. Because of the time between her short fight and being attacked herself, this was the most logical place for her assailants to have stood watching. She studied the landscape in the fading light. Soon the moons would be up and she’d be able to travel but now she had to deduce where to go next.
*
She waited patiently until the larger moon rose, quickly followed by the middle moon. The small moon wouldn’t rise for another few hours, so while it wasn’t yet Three Moons Bright, there would be enough illumination for her to find her way. She studied the foothills behind the inn, which swept into the eastern mountains, looking for obvious trails or paths. As the moons rose further over the mountains, the landscape below remained shrouded in shadows. After nearly an hour of searching, she saw it. A cleft between two small hills and a gentle rise into what appeared to be a notch in the mountains. Had there been fog, or rain, or even a heavy mist, she would not have seen it.