'No inn,' her partner sighed, folding the map and rucking it back inside the inner pocket of her coat. 'Sorry about that, Greeneyes.'
'Figures,' Kethry said sourly. 'When we've finally got the money to pay for inns, we can't find any.'
Tarma shrugged. 'That's fate, I suppose. We'll have to see if we can induce some householder to part with hearth- or barn-space for a little coin. Could be worse. If it hadn't been for everything that happened in Mournedealth, we wouldn't have the coin.'
'True -- though I can think of easier ways to have gotten it.'
'Hmm.' Tarma made a noncommittal sound, and swung back up into her saddle. Kethry cast a glance at her out of the corner of her eye and wondered what she was thinking.
'I don't regret any of it,' she said then, trying to sound as if she had intended to continue the sentence. 'It's just that I'm lazy. That little set-to with my former spouse was a whole lot more work than I would have preferred!'
Tarma's grating laugh floated out over the hillside, and Kethry relaxed a bit.
'I'll try and spare you, next time,' the Sword-sworn said, nudging her mare with her heels and sending Kessira picking her way through the ruts down the hill. Kethry could have sworn as they passed that the elegant little mare had her lip curled in distaste. 'If you promise to give me a little more warning. This could all have been taken care of quite handily by waylaying Wethes and your brother and -- ah -- 'persuading' them that everyone would be happier if we were left alone.'
'I thought you Kal'enedral were bound by honor,' Kethry mocked, as Rodi lurched and slipped his way down the hill in Kessira's wake.
'Her honor, not man's honor,' Tarma corrected, not taking her attention from the path in front of her. 'And in matters where Her honor has no bearing, we're bound by expediency. I'm rather fond of expediency. It saves a world of problems.'
'Except when you have to explain your notion of 'expedient' to the City Guard.' Rodi took the last of the slope in a rush that made Kethry grit her teeth and cling to the saddle-bow, hoping the mule knew what he was doing.
'You have a point,' the Shin'a'in admitted. It took most of the remaining daylight -- not the single candlemark the map promised -- to get to the duster of houses alongside the road. That was because of the condition of the road itself; as hummocked and rutted as the hill had been. Tarma didn't want to push the beasts at all, for fear they'd break legs misstepping. So they picked their way to 'Potter' with maddening slowness.
So maddening that at first Kethry did not note the increasing pressure of her geas-blade 'Need' on her mind.
She was tightly bound to the sword; as bound to it as she was to her partner, and that binding had the blessing of Tarma's own Goddess on it. The sword repaid that binding by healing her of anything short of a death- wound in an incredibly short period of time, and by granting her a master's ability at wielding it -- a fact that had saved Tarma's skin now and again, since no one expected blade-expertise from a mage. But Kethry paid for those gifts -- for any time there was a woman in need of help within the blade's sensing-range -- and Kethry had not yet determined the limits of that range -- she had to help. Regardless of whether or not helping was a prudent move -- or going to be repaid.
Hardly the most ideal circumstances for a would-be mercenary.
Need's 'call' was like the insistent pressure of a headache about to happen -- except when the situation was truly life-or-death critical, in which case it had been known to cause pressure so close to pain as made no difference. Tarma must have learned to read or sense that in the few months they'd been together -- she suddenly looked back over her shoulder almost as soon as Kethry herself became aware of the blade's prodding, and frowned.
'Tell me that expression on your face isn't what I think it is,' the hawk-faced Shin'a'in said plaintively. 'I would,' Kethry sighed, 'but I'd be lying.' Tarma shook her head, and turned her ice-blue eyes to the settlement ahead of them. 'Joyous. Well, at least there shouldn't be much trouble figuring out who and what. If there're more than a dozen females down there, I'll eat a horseshoe.'
Kethry urged her mule forward until she rode knee-to-knee with her brown-clad partner. 'I'll say what you're undoubtedly thinking. If there's a problem in so small a settlement, everybody is likely to know about it. Which means everybody may well have a vested interest in keeping it quiet. Or may like things the way they are.' The vague splotch beside the road ahead of them resolved itself into a cluster of buildings as their beasts brought them nearer. A few moments more, and they could make out the red-roofed wellhouse, set apart from the rest of the buildings.
'Or may simply resent outsiders interfering,' Tarma finished glumly. 'There are times -- heads up, she'enedra. We're being met.'
