“She can do many wondrous things, but you have to put up with the mud.” She hung Jennery’s cloak up and stopped to pet the Arifel who appeared in front of her. “Yes, well done, you brought them here,” she said, running a gentle finger down his chest. Ari preened before swooping to perch on a wooden pole extending out of the wall over the fireplace. He muttered to himself as he began to groom his wet fur.
She froze as she saw Birlerion. “Oh my, an Arifel is one thing but you...” She stared at him, her eyes wide. “You’re a Lady’s Guard, a Sentinal, aren’t you?”
Birlerion grinned, relaxing the strain on his face. “Yes, Guardian.”
“Oh my,” she said again. She caught sight of Jennery’s face, which was congealing as she spoke. “What happened? Ari didn’t say you had injuries.” She emptied the fruit bowl on the table and steered Jennery to a seat by the fire, placing the bowl in his lap and a blanket around his shoulders. “What about you two?”
“I think the Captain here needs a seamstress,” Birlerion said as Jerrol sat at the table. Birlerion helped him ease off his jacket, scowling in concern as Jerrol’s shirt was revealed, sodden with blood. Jerrol raised a bloody hand to stop an apple rolling off the table as he leaned back in the chair.
The room was homely, dominated by a large brick fireplace with a stack of wood, burning merrily. A basket piled high with logs sat to one side. Two armchairs faced each other from either side of the fire, a small footstool in front of one of them.
Oil lamps sat on a square table in the middle of the room, the wicks turned down and providing a gentle glow. On the floor was a cheerful woven rug in hues of red and blue, brightening up the room. Jerrol quirked a weary eyebrow. “My name is Jerrol; these are my friends Jennery and Birlerion.”
“I am Silene; you met my husband, Reese, out in the barn. Let me look at your side. Birlerion, please sit by the fire, you must be chilled to the bone. The weather has been unseasonably wet,” she instructed as she moved towards the kitchen, where she put a pan of water on to heat. “Please sit. I’ll soon have the Captain here sorted. Then I’ll make a hot drink.”
She placed a basket on the table and turned the wick of the lamp up high. Moving to Jerrol, she unwrapped his makeshift bandage and pursed her lips. She bathed his side, revealing the ugly gash. “You’re lucky it’s not deeper,” she murmured.
“The Lady protects,” was all Jerrol replied as he gritted his teeth against her gentle probing. “You can see the Arifel,” Jerrol said, watching Ari on his perch.
“Oh yes, isn’t he beautiful? I’ve read about them but never seen one. They disappeared after the Lady cracked the stone, no one knew where they went, and over time people have forgotten about them.”
“And a great many other things as well, I fear.”
“True,” Silene said, threading a sharp needle. “Fortunately for you,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “not everyone has forgotten. I remember.”
Jennery hugged his bowl, listening to the low-toned conversation. “You remember?”
“Oh yes, I know all the histories and myths and legends. I teach the young, at least those who will listen, and I am often consulted by Lord Hugh or by councillors across the whole of Vespiri on points of law or land.”
Jerrol tensed as Silene began to sew the edges of the wound together; a sheen of sweat covered his face, and he winced as she progressed around his side.
Birlerion watched Silene, and then he pulled off his boots and left them by the front door next to Jennery’s, before padding damply over to the fire. His feet left faint footprints on the wooden floor. He perched on the edge of the chair and leaned towards the flames, the warmth relaxing his tense muscles.
Jennery sat in the other chair, groaning and hugging his bowl, not interested in anything but the fire. His big toe poked out of the hole in his muddy socks and his mud-splashed trousers dripped on the floor, creating a small pool that steamed in the warm air. A clock ticked in the silence, the regular sound soothing the tense men.
Silene finished her grisly work and dusted the wound with white powder before wrapping it securely with a bandage. She inspected Jerrol’s tattered shirt. “Do you have another?” she asked, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders before checking his eyes. “You’ll do,” she said as she collected the scraps and the bowl of blood-tinted water and took them out to the kitchen.
She returned with one of her husband’s shirts. “Here,” she said, removing the blanket and shaking out the shirt. She helped Jerrol ease his arms into the sleeves without further comment. The shirt shimmered into the same collarless linen shirt he had been wearing before, and she grinned in appreciation. “You truly are the Captain.”
“So it seems,” he agreed. The sound of the bubbling water drew her back into the kitchen.
“Don’t worry about the mud,” Silene said reassuringly as she reentered the room with a tray. Birlerion leapt up to take the tray from her and placed it on the table. “Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him.
Birlerion smiled back, instinctively. Silene was the type of person who made you feel comfortable straightaway. She was assured and calm, and although not what he would have called beautiful, she was striking. Her movements were sure and economical, and she soon had them seated again with a hot mug of coffee.
“You’re a Rememberer,” Birlerion said.
“A Rememberer?” Jerrol asked, glancing from Silene to Birlerion.
“Yes, a Guardian of the Lady’s Lore: her history, her people and her land.” Silene gestured at Ari. “Your Arifel popped in earlier with a request for shelter, so we knew to expect you.”
“I’m not sure
