that they were watching him now.
But he knew he couldn’t make an accusation before the Evant. Not without Shaeveran at his side. Not without more evidence. It would be seen as a personal attack on the Chosen himself, as Thaedoren had pointed out earlier. It would be hearsay, nothing more.
Aeren had not survived this long within the Evant, risen to the heights he had, by being politically naive, no matter how much he wished to bring Lotaern down. It was time for a strategic retreat.
Jaw clenched, he shot a glance toward the Chosen, head raised… then bowed his head.
“No, Tamaell, I have nothing further to bring to the floor.”
14
Jayson and Corim stumbled into Cobble Kill with the sunset, the sheet of thin clouds overhead blazing with a deep burnt orange. Jayson halted at the end of the stone bridge over the stream that gave the town its name, leaning heavily against a stone pillar with a lantern already lit at its top. Corim slumped down on the stone abutment of the bridge.
“We’re almost there, Corim.”
He tried to keep the words light and encouraging, but it had been a long walk and neither one of them had slept much since the night of the attack. It had taken them three days to reach Cobble Kill, which would normally take a day on horseback. They had seen no one on the road the first two days, but that afternoon, while taking a break near a small creek, they had heard a horse-drawn cart trundle past on the dirt road. Corim had shot Jayson a terrified glance, his body rigid with fear. Jayson had shushed him with a hand gesture, motioned him to stay still. He’d been facing the road and had caught glimpses of the cart through the heavy undergrowth.
He hadn’t thought it was a threat, but he wouldn’t take the chance. Not with Corim at his side.
“Let’s find the Legion’s garrison,” he said, staring down toward the town square. He pushed himself away from the stone pillar and urged Corim up from his seat. The boy groaned, but came along. Jayson kept one hand on his shoulder, in case he collapsed.
Cobble Kill claimed three taverns and an inn, a stable, two smithies, and three mercantiles, one from each of the three major trading companies. All of its streets were paved with cobblestone and converged on a main square lined with two-story buildings, a few with balconies overlooking the square. Nearly all of the buildings were made of river stone. Shutters were drawn and windows glowed with candle or lantern light. More of the stone pillars topped with lanterns lined the road into the square and Jayson and Corim followed them as the day faded and night fell. A burst of laughter and noise spilled from one of the tavern doors as it was opened and someone staggered into the street. Both Jayson and Corim stiffened, Corim drawing a step closer. But the man didn’t see them, moving off toward the west.
Jayson scanned the street, noted the horses and two carts that marked the taverns and inn and the low fence that surrounded the stable yard. Wind sighed through the trees, new spring leaves rustling. He didn’t see anything that looked like a Legion garrison. He’d been to Cobble Kill a few times before, delivering ground grain to the mercantiles, but he’d never had need of the garrison before.
Without any idea of where to go, he moved toward the nearest tavern. Corim hesitated at the door, but glanced out into the settling darkness with a shudder and followed Jayson inside.
There were at least a dozen men and women seated at rough wooden tables arranged around a central hearth, the fire low, a pot on an iron hook set over the flames. Lanterns hung from the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling, a set of stairs angling up to the rooms above to one side, opposite the hearth. A pair of doors led to the kitchen in the back.
As he halted inside the door, the raucous laughter trailed off, everyone taking notice of them. Most were simply curious, trading questioning glances and receiving shrugs in return. One or two expressions were hostile for no apparent reason.
Before the silence could become awkward, the doors to the kitchen opened and a woman stepped through, hair held back with a folded scarf, an apron tied around her broad waist. “Got yer venison right here, Carl, no need to-oh!”
She halted as she saw them, a platter with steaming meat held aloft in one hand, a mug of ale in the other. But only for a moment. A smile broke across her initial surprise, then she set the platter and ale down in front of Carl. She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward, her gaze dropping to Corim, then back to Jayson, settling on the bloodstained sleeve of his arm and the torn cloth he’d used to bandage the wound.
“You two look famished. Need a room for the night? Some food?”
Jayson’s stomach growled, but he shook his head. “We’re looking for the Legion’s garrison. We’re from Gray’s Kill.”
She frowned. “Not much of a garrison here, more like an outpost now, although it used to be larger.”
“Where is it?”
“Left, down the main road about a half mile.”
Jayson gripped Corim’s shoulder harder as the boy began to list. He reached down to support him with his other hand and said, “Thank you,” but before he could move them toward the door Corim sagged into him.
He caught him as the woman cried out, reaching forward to catch the boy’s other arm.
“Here, now, he’s so exhausted he can’t stand! And so are you,” she added reprovingly. She dragged Corim toward the nearest empty chair and sat him down, Jayson forced to follow. When she stood, she pointed to a second seat and said with a glare, “Sit.”
Her glare darkened when Jayson made to protest, so he swallowed his words and slid wearily into the proffered chair. The woman nodded and swept off. He leaned forward onto the table and his own exhaustion swept over him, shaking his shoulders and trembling in his arms and legs. He knew the rest of the tavern’s patrons were watching them both, but he didn’t care enough to glance up.
He heard the door to the kitchen kicked open and a moment later two bowls of stew clattered to the table before him and Corim. He shoved back from the table, but before he could mention that they had no coin to pay for it, the woman said, “Eat. You both need the strength.”
There was no questioning the command in her voice. And when he breathed in the rich scent of the stew, he found his body wouldn’t let him protest. He pulled it toward him, noticed that the smell had roused Corim as well, the boy shifting forward, snatching up the spoon, and shoveling the stew in as fast as he could. They’d had only not-quite-ripe berries and whatever tubers and leeks Jayson could scavenge for the past three days.
“Thank you,” Jayson managed, before diving into his own bowl. Corim muttered something that may have been thanks around a mouthful, and the woman nodded.
“I’ll be back with some bread. Don’t eat it all before then. And Carl-” she said, spinning toward the man, who froze, a forkful of venison half raised toward his mouth, “-get yer lazy ass out of that chair and hike it down to the garrison. Bring back one of the Legionnaires. This man needs to speak to him.”
Carl grumbled something under his breath, then shoved the forkful into his mouth, chewing as he rose and wiped his hands on his breeches. He eyed the two from Gray’s Kill, then shook his head and stalked out into the night, the door slamming shut behind him.
“Jayson.” The woman turned as he spoke. “My name’s Jayson Freeholt, and this is my apprentice Corim.”
“Pleased to meet you, Jayson and Corim.” Corim flinched at his name and the woman frowned, casting a sharp eye at Jayson. “My name’s Ara and this is my tavern.” She held out her hand and Jayson shook it. Her grip was strong, which shouldn’t have been a surprise. She was built solidly, broad shoulders and body, ample breasts, round face. Not fat, but stout, her carriage no-nonsense. “What brings you to Cobble Kill?”
The stew in Jayson’s mouth turned tasteless. He swallowed with difficulty and set his spoon back in the bowl. “Someone attacked Gray’s Kill,” he said, his voice hoarse.
The words unlocked something in his chest he’d held onto tightly since the night of the attack, all of the images-the smoke, the reflected fire, the hissing of the creatures that had struck from the darkness, and the chill of sleeping on the barge in the middle of the river-all of it flooding back in a sudden wave. He choked on it, his heart seizing, tears burning at the corners of his eyes, but before they could spill over, he heard Corim sob.
