proper justice.'
'B-but _' He gave up. She would never admit she was wrong, even if he managed to convince her of it_and even if he did, she would only think he was worried about the possible consequences. That wasn't what made him so upset, but how could he make her understand that she had just acted in as immoral and irresponsible a manner as the
How could they honestly refute the claims of the street preachers when they actually
He hoped.
Darkness had fallen by the time they reached the next building on the road. The Hungry Bear inn_distinguished as such by the sign over the door, a crudely painted caricature of an animal that
Even in the fading twilight and the feeble flame of a torch beside the door, that much was all too obvious. It was clean, superficially at least, but so shabby that Gwyna would have passed it by without a second thought if they were really looking for a nights work.
But they weren't, so when Kestrel pulled the horses to a halt outside the front door_which didn't even have a lantern, only that crude pitch-and-straw torch_she hopped down to see if she could find the innkeeper.
She had barely one foot on the ground before a round blob of a woman dressed in clothing more suited to a coquettish girl came hurrying out to see if they might be customers.
As she came out of the darkness of the tap room and into the flickering light from the torch, Gwyna felt her eyes widen in surprise. Was
She must be_certainly the lavish use of cosmetics, and the straw-blond hair, the low-cut blouse and the kilted-up skirt matched Rune's descriptions. But if this was Rune's mother_either Rune's memory was horribly at fault, or the woman had doubled, or even tripled her weight, since Rune had left!
'Welcome to the Hungry Bear,' the woman said, her eyes taking in their equippage, and probably evaluating it to the last penny. 'My name is Stara, and I am the innkeeper's wife_how may I serve you?'
Well, that certainly clinched it. This
'We are musicians, Innkeeper,' Robin said, in a carefully neutral voice. 'We hadn't really expected to find an inn here, but we usually offer our services in return for a room and a meal _'
The balding and middle-aged innkeeper himself appeared at the door as Robin finished her little speech, but he held back, diffidently saying nothing, quite obviously very much the henpecked husband. Stara looked them over critically, and her eyes sharpened with mingled envy and greed at their prosperity. No one who drove a rig like theirs, new, and well-made, would be an inferior musician or poor....
So,
'Uh_Stara _' the innkeeper said, timidly. 'We don't know these people. We don't know anything about them. Remember what the Priest has been preaching? These people aren't wearing Guild colors. So many of these free musicians sing that licentious music, that music that makes people do sinful things _'