Rune was just about ready to suggest that they not stop, that they continue on through the night. But it would be easy to get off the track in weather like this, and once tangled in the underbrush, they might not be able to find their way back to the road until daylight. If there was anything worse than spending a night huddled inside a drippy lean-to wrapped in a rain-cape, it was spending it caught in a wild plum thicket while the rain beat down on you unhindered even by leaves.
Meanwhile, her thoughts ran on in the same depressing circle. Talaysen was tired of her; that was what it was. He was tired of his promise to teach her, tired of her company, and he didn't know how to tell her. He wanted to be rid of her. Not that she blamed him; it would be much easier for him to find that wintering-over place with only himself to worry about. And if that failed, it would be very much harder for him to make the winter circuit with an inexperienced girl in tow.
He must be bored with her by now, too. She wasn't very entertaining, she wasn't city-bred, she didn't know anything about the Courts that she hadn't picked up from Tonno-and that was precious little.
And he must be disgusted with her as well. The way she'd been shamelessly throwing herself at him-he was used to ladies, not tavern-wenches. Ill-mannered and coarse, a country peasant despite her learning. Too ugly even to think about, too.
She felt a lump of self-pity rising in her throat and didn't even try to swallow it down. Too ugly, too tall, too stupid-the litany ran around and around in her thoughts, and made the lump expand until it filled her entire throat and made it hard to swallow. It overflowed into her eyes, and tears joined the rain that was leaking through her hat and running down her face. Her eyes blurred, and she rubbed the back of her cold hand across them. They blurred so much, in fact, that she almost missed the little path and half-ruined gateposts leading away from the road.
Almost.
She sniffed and wiped her eyes again hastily. 'Master Wren!' she croaked around the lump in her throat. He stopped, turned. 'There!' she said, pointing, and hoping he didn't notice her tear-marred face. She was under no illusions about what she looked like when she cried: awful. Blotchy face and swollen eyes; red nose.
He looked where she pointed. 'Huh,' he said, sounding surprised. 'I don't remember that there before.'
'It looks like there might have been a farmhouse there a while back,' she said, inanely stating the obvious. 'Maybe you didn't notice it because the last time you were through here you weren't looking for a place to shelter in.'
'If there's a single wall standing, it'll be better than what we have now,' he replied, wearily. 'If there's two, we can put something over them. If there's even a corner of roof, I'll send Ardis a donation for her charities the next time we reach a village with a Priest.'
He set off towards the forlorn little gate; she followed. As overgrown as that path looked, there wasn't going to be enough room for them to walk in anything other than single file.
It was worse than it looked; the plants actually seemed to reach out to them, to tangle them, to send out snags to trip them up and thorns to rake across their eyes.
The deeper they went, the worse it got. Finally Rune pulled the knife from her belt, and started to hack at the vegetation with it.
To her surprise, the going improved after that; evidently there was point of bottleneck, and then the growth wasn't nearly so tangled. The bushes stopped reaching for them; the trees stopped fighting them. Within a few moments, they broke free of the undergrowth, into what was left of the clearing that had surrounded the little house.
There was actually something left of the house. More than they had hoped, certainly. Although vines crawled in and out of the windows, the door and shutters were gone entirely, and there was a tree growing right through the roof, there were still walls and a good portion of the roof remaining, perhaps because the back of it had been built into the hill behind it.
They crossed the clearing, stepped over a line of mushrooms ringing the house, and entered. There was enough light coming in for them to see-and hear-that the place was relatively dry, except in the area of the tree. Talaysen got out his tinderbox and made a light with a splinter of wood.
'Dirt floor-at least it isn't mud.' Rune fumbled out a rushlight and handed it to him; he lit it at his splinter. In the brighter flare of illumination, she saw that the floor was covered with a litter of dead leaves and less identifiable objects, including a scattering of small, roundish objects and some white splatters. Talaysen leaned down to poke one, and came up with a mouse-skull.
He grinned back at Rune, teeth shining whitely from under his hat brim. 'At least we won't have to worry about vermin. Provided you don't mind sharing your quarters with an owl.'
'I'd share this place with worse than an owl if it's dry,' she replied more sharply than she intended. Then she laughed, in a shaky attempt to cover it. 'Let's see what we can do about putting together someplace to sleep. Away from where the owl is. I can do without getting decorated with castings and mutes.'
'Why Rune, we could set a whole new fashion,' Talaysen teased, his good humor evidently restored. He stuck the rushlight up on what was left of a rock shelf at the back of the house, and they set about clearing a space to bed down in.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
'There,' Rune said, setting her makeshift broom of broken branches aside. 'That's as clean as it's going to get.' She made a face at the piled debris on the other side of the ash tree; there had been too much garbage to simply sweep out the door.
'That's clean enough,' Talaysen told her, from where he knelt just under the window, striking his flint and steel together as he had been the entire time she'd been sweeping. He had a knack for fires that she didn't; making a fire from sparks was a lot harder than village-folk (or especially city-folk) realized. 'Now if I can just-there!'
He blew frantically at the little pile of dry leaves and shavings in front of him, and was rewarded this time with a glow, and then with a tiny flame. Carefully sheltering it from an errant breeze, he fed it with tiny twigs, then branches, then finally built a real fire with wood scavenged from the cottage's interior about his core-blaze. Just as well, as it was definitely getting darker outside. Hopefully the smoke would go out the window, and not decide to fill the cottage. The chimney of this place was choked with birds' nests and other trash.
Rune took a look around, now that she had more light to see by. This hadn't been a big farmhouse; one room, with a tiny loft just under the roof for sleeping. But the inside looked very odd for a place gone to ruin, and she puzzled over it as Talaysen picked up wood, trying to figure it out.
Then she had it: the cottage had been abandoned in a hurry. Nothing had been taken, not even the smallest stool. The wood that Talaysen was collecting had come from wrecked furniture. The doors and windows had been forced-but forced out, not in, and the shutters over the windows had been smashed at about the same time. Something got in here, then smashed its way out. But what could have been strong enough to do that-and nasty enough to keep the owner from coming back for his goods? She felt a chill finger of fear trace a line down the back of her neck. . . .
But then she shrugged and turned her attention to setting up their 'camp.' Whatever had done this was long gone, and not likely to return; there was no sign that anything had been living here except the owl.
He handed their nesting cook-pot and kettle to her; she dug out the dried meat and vegetables and the canister of herb tea. It was Talaysen's turn to cook, while she spread out the sleeping rolls and went to get water.
Well, that wouldn't be hard. There was a lot of water available right now.
She stuck the kettle, then the pot, out the window, holding them under the stream of water coming off the eaves. After all the rain they'd been having, the roof was surely clean. As clean as most streams, anyway. The presence of the owl probably kept birds from perching on the roof by day, and there wasn't much else that would matter.
Already it was hard to see across the clearing. She was profoundly grateful that they'd found this bit of shelter when they had. Now they'd be able to have a hot meal, warm and dry their clothing by the fire, check their instruments, maybe even practice a little.
As if he had followed her thoughts, Talaysen looked up from his cooking. 'Get my lute out, will you, Rune? I think it's warm and dry enough in here that it won't come to any harm.'
She nodded, and took the instrument out of its oiled-leather case, inspecting it carefully for any signs that the rain or damp might have gotten to it. Satisfied that it was untouched, she laid it on his unrolled bedding and did the same with her fiddle.
