mind to go back.
If Kit had had any idea where her father was, she would have gone there, or at least in that direction. During her first days at the inn, Kit found many excuses to go out into the dining room where she always looked over the crowd carefully, watching for a familiar face-Gregor's, or even Ursa's. There was never anyone she had seen nor met before. Now and then a grizzled warrior or roving Knight of Solamnia wandered into the place. Kitiara always contrived to wait on their tables. And if she could get a word in edgewise, she asked them if they had ever heard of a particular someone, the legendary mercenary, Gregor Uth Matar.
Some had heard of Gregor, or at least they thought so, but no one had any information that was reliable or up-to-date. After a while, Kit stopped asking.
At first Kit overheard much talk about the ambush of Sir Gwathmey's payroll expedition. Bits and pieces of information as well as unfounded gossip kept travelers and the locals buzzing. But the upshot was that none of the perpetrators had been identified, nobody arrested or captured. The dead man's fiancйe, across the mountains, had offered an astronomical sum-people said it was three times the amount of the robbery-for revenge against the murderers. Lady Mantilla had turned to dark magic, it was whispered, and employed a veritable army of spies and mages, as yet to no avail.
Kit stuck close to Piggott's place; indeed, she had little time or interest in poking around Stumptown. She figured it was wise not to attract attention. Beck's sword remained hidden among some bushes where no one ventured.
After a while, the rumors died down, until nobody talked about the payroll robbery anymore. Kit gave up hope of ever tracking down Ursa and getting her fair share of the booty. The episode seemed increasingly distant to her. Without the responsibility of caring for her half-brothers for the first time in years, and with a little change in her pockets, Kit gloried in her independence.
The companionship offered by Mita also helped make her time pleasurable there. She regarded the lad as the equivalent of another younger brother, though in age he was her peer. Although she suspected that Mita saw her more romantically, Kit was thankful he never said anything nor acted on that mistaken impulse. They slept within yards of each other every night, platonically, comfortable in each other's company.
One hazy afternoon when they were together in the courtyard, searching for eggs laid by Piggott's hens, Kitiara asked Mita why he limped.
'Don't know really,' he said, averting his eyes because she had raised a delicate subject. 'I always did. I used to live not too far from here with my grandmother. She tended a herd of goats to help keep food on the table. When I used to ask her how come, she wouldn't tell me. She'd just shake her head and look away, sadlike. Piggott said he supposed a big goat of hers must have stepped on my leg one day, 'cause of this.'
Mita pulled up his pant leg to reveal a curved imprint on his lower right leg, the one he favored. Kit peered at the scar, but wasn't at all sure it looked like a hoof mark.
'What did your parents say when you asked them?'
'I didn't ask. Didn't ever know 'em. First I remember, I was living with Grandma.'
Kit was standing close to Mita, and when her eyes met his, she had the oddest sensation he was going to try and kiss her. But the moment passed. How different from El-Navar's bold assurance, Kitiara couldn't help thinking to herself.
Piggott was not quite as gentlemanly as Mita, and more than once the fat, greasy owner had planted himself squarely in front of Kitiara, leering and saying something offensive. But Piggott never pressed his point when Kitiara brushed him off. He knew she always carried a small knife on her, concealed inside her tunic.
The one time Piggott had leaned too close, his beery breath hot in her face, Kit had slipped the knife out and pressed its tip against his prominent gut. 'Well, aren't we rough and ready,' Piggott had cracked, but the menace was gone from his voice, and his eyes darted around nervously as he looked for a way to retreat without losing face.
Piggott's mood was habitually foul. At times he would cuff Mita on the back of the head and berate him; or if the dwarf, who was part of their alliance, happened to drop a plate or come in late, Piggott would dock everybody's pay.
One morning, late in the summer, Kitiara woke having made up her mind to leave. Not because of Piggott, really- she could handle him-but her prospects for finding adventure in Stumptown seemed dim. She had enough money; she'd had her time away from Solace; so now she would return home.
Right away she told Mita, and he astonished her by saying that he would go with her. 'I'm sick of Piggott's bullying,' he declared. 'I've got quite a bit of money saved up, and I'm going with you.'
'What about your grandmother?' Kit asked. 'Won't she miss you?'
'Oh, she died three years ago,' said Mita matter-of-factly. 'That's how come I decided to move in here and work for Piggott in the first place.'
Kitiara said that, no, she was going home to help take care of her brothers, Mita couldn't come and stay with her, and he wouldn't like Solace anyway. Mita responded that he would go with her partway, then, and turn south toward Haven somewhere along the road.
Kit shrugged. Mita grew so excited about it that Kitiara caught some of his mood and became enthusiastic, too. Together they scurried around the barn, beginning to organize and pack their scant belongings.
Later, inside the kitchen, before the breakfast customers showed up in force, Kitiara and Mita were whispering about their plans, laughing, when a hand clapped Kitiara on the back. She turned to see Paulus giving her an unaccustomed glowering look.
'Let me in on the big secret,' said the ponytailed dwarf, his eyes shifting between Mita and Kit.
They told him they were getting ready to quit, and Paulus astonished Kit further by announcing that he would quit, too, and go along with them. And when Mita split up with Kitiara, Paulus would keep heading south with the boy. 'I can't wait to see that fat buzzard's face when we tell him,' grinned Paulus.
Only minutes later, all three of them got that opportunity, when they cornered Piggott and informed him they were leaving after breakfast. The beefy innkeeper flushed a dark shade of crimson and erupted in expletives. He yelled and screamed insults at them, and they hurled their own insults back. Then Piggott switched tactics and plaintively entreated them to stay, at least for a couple of days, to give him time to find new kitchen workers.
'How can you leave today?' he pleaded. 'You, Mita. How will you travel? You don't have a horse!'
'I'll buy one,' Mita said proudly. 'I have enough money saved up to buy three or four.'
'No,' said Paulus grandly. 'Let me buy you one, friend. I have enough money for a dozen!'
'Kit, where's your gratitude? Mita, I've been practically a father to you. Paulus-'
Their laughter cut off his futile pleading.
Piggott changed his tack again, his face taking on a sly cast. He tugged at his cauliflower ear. 'I'll tell you what,' he said. 'I'll give you twice your normal weekly salary, if you stay for two more nights. That's all. Just to let me make some arrangements. Twice your salary. After that, no hard feelings.'
Kit, Mita, and Paulus exchanged looks. That offer was too good to pass up, and, in any case, they could use the time to gather supplies and prepare for their journey.
'Done!' said Kit, offering her hand to Piggott. He took it coolly, wiped his own on his apron afterward, then brusquely told them all to get back to work.
Two days later, the night before they left, Piggott counted out two week's salary, a tidy pile of coins, into each of their outstretched palms. The disagreeable man had said almost nothing to them during their extended time, and he was not around when the trio set out early the next morning, before sunrise.
Kit felt good to be riding Cinnamon again, after all this time. She carried only the few simple things she had arrived with, her purse of earned income, and Beck's sword, which she had retrieved from its hiding place. The sword was still wrapped, but Paulus's glance indicated that he guessed that Kit was carrying some prized weapon strapped across her back.
Mita was riding a palomino he had purchased from an old forester, and Paulus was astride a small pony. Both horses were draped with bundles and bags, some of which bulged and others of which conspicuously jingled. Where Mita had squirreled all of his trove away while they were living together in the backyard shed, Kit could not figure. She realized she was gawking at her two companions.
'Saved it all up,' beamed Paulus, noticing her wide-eyed stare. Mita nodded with a big grin. Kit shook her head, then spurred Cinnamon forward.
