questions. ‘What were you doing there? What happened? What did you see ... ?’ ”
The scorn in Denna’s voice made me bite back my own questions so quickly that I almost caught my tongue between my teeth. It’s my nature to ask questions, not to mention that the whole purpose of this mad dash into the foothills was to investigate what had happened.
Still, the tone of Denna’s voice made it clear she was in no mood to give answers right now. I shrugged my travelsack higher up onto my shoulder and something occurred to me. “Wait. Your things. You left them all back in your room.”
Denna hesitated for a heartbeat. “I don’t think anything of mine was there,” she said as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to her before.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go back and check?”
She shook her head firmly. “I leave where I’m not welcome,” she said matter-of-factly “Everything else I can make up along the way.”
Denna started to walk down the street and I fell in beside her. She turned onto a narrow side street heading west. We passed an old woman hanging a shamble-man made of oat sheaves. It wore a crude straw hat and a pair of sackcloth pants. “Where are we headed?” I asked.
“I need to see if my things are out at the Mauthen farm,” she said. “After that I’m open to suggestions. Where were you planning to go before you found me?”
“Honestly, I was heading out to the Mauthen farm myself.”
Denna gave me a sideways look. “Fair enough. It’s only about a mile out to the farm. We can be there and still have plenty of light.”
The land around Trebon was rough, mostly thick forest broken by stretches of rocky ground. Then the road would round a corner and there would be a small, perfect field of golden wheat tucked among the trees, or nestled into a valley surrounded by dark stone bluffs. Farmers and hands dotted the fields, covered in chaff and moving with the slow weariness that comes from knowing half the day’s harvest was still to come.
We’d only been walking a minute when I heard a familiar thump of hooves behind us. I turned to see a small open-topped cart bumping slowly up the road. Denna and I stepped off into the scrub, as the road was barely wide enough for the cart. A bone weary farmer eyed us suspiciously from where he sat, hunched over the reins.
“We’re heading to the Mauthen farm,” Denna called out as he came closer. “Would you mind if we caught a ride?”
The man eyed us grimly, then nodded toward the back of the cart. “I’m heading past old Borrorill. Ye’ll have to make your own way from there.”
Denna and I clambered on and sat facing backward on the clapboard with our feet dangling over the edge. It wasn’t much faster than walking, but we were both glad to be off our feet.
We rode in silence. Denna obviously wasn’t interested in discussing things in front of the farmer, and I was glad to have a moment to think things over. I had planned on telling whatever lies were necessary to get the information I wanted from the witness. Denna complicated things. I didn’t want to lie to her, but at the same time I couldn’t risk telling her too much. The last thing I wanted to do was convince her I was crazy with wild stories of the Chandrian....
So we rode in silence. It was nice just being near her. You wouldn’t think a girl in bandages with a blackened eye could be beautiful, but Denna was. Lovely as the moon: not flawless, perhaps, but perfect.
The farmer spoke up, breaking my reverie. “Here’s Borrorill.”
I looked around for the rill, but couldn’t see it. Which was a shame, as I wouldn’t mind a cool drink or a bit of a wash. Hours of hard riding had left me sweaty and smelling of horse.
We thanked the farmer and hopped off the back of the cart. Denna led the way along the dirt track that wound back and forth up the side of the hill, between the trees and the occasional outcrop of worn, dark stone. Denna seemed steadier than when we’d left the tavern, but kept her eyes on the ground, choosing her steps with deliberate care as if she didn’t quite trust her balance.
A sudden thought came to me. “I got your note,” I said, pulling the folded piece of paper out of a pocket in my cloak. “When did you leave it for me?”
“Nearly two span ago.”
I grimaced, “I only got it last night.”
She nodded to herself. “I worried about that when you never showed up. I thought it might have fallen out, or gotten wet so you couldn’t read it.”
“I just haven’t used the window lately,” I said.
Denna shrugged nonchalantly. “Silly of me to assume you would, really.”
I tried to think of something to add, something that would explain what she might have seen when Fela had given me my cloak in the Eolian. I couldn’t think of anything. “I’m sorry I missed our lunch.”
Denna looked up, amused. “Deoch said you were caught in a fire or something. Told me you looked positively wretched.”
“I felt wretched,” I said. “More from missing you than from the fire....”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you were
“I said I was sorry.”
“... an older gentleman introduced himself to me. We talked, got to know each other....” She shrugged and looked sideways at me, almost bashfully. “I’ve been meeting with him ever since. If things continue smoothly, I think he’ll be my patron before the year is out.”
“Really?” I said, relief splashing over me like cold water. “That’s wonderful, and long overdue. Who is he?”
She shook her head, her dark hair falling down around her face. “I can’t say. He’s obsessed with his privacy. He wouldn’t tell me his real name for more than a span. Even now I don’t know if the name he’s given me is real.”
“If you’re not sure who he really is,” I said slowly. “How do you know he’s a gentleman?”
It was a foolish question. We both knew the answer, but she said it anyway. “Money. Clothes. Bearing.” She shrugged. “Even if he’s only a wealthy merchant, he’ll still make a good patron.”
“But not a great one. Merchant families don’t have the same stability ...”
“... and their names don’t carry the same weight,” she finished with another, knowing shrug. “Half a loaf is better than none, and I’m tired of having no loaf at all.” She sighed. “I’ve been working hard to reel him in. But he’s so dodgy... We never meet in the same place twice, and never in public. Sometimes he’ll set up a meeting and never even show up for it. Not that that’s anything new in my life....”
Denna staggered as a rock shifted under her foot. I grabbed for her, and she caught hold of my arm and shoulder before she fell. For a moment we were pressed against each other, and I was very aware of her body against mine as she took a moment to balance herself.
I steadied her, and we moved apart. But after she regained her footing, she kept her hand resting lightly on my arm. I moved slowly, as if a wild bird had landed there and I was desperately trying to avoid startling it into flight.
I considered putting my arm around her, partly for support and partly for other more obvious reasons. I quickly discarded the idea. I still remembered the look on her face when she mentioned the constable touching her leg. What would I do if she had a similar response to me?
Men flocked around Denna, and I knew from our conversations how tiresome she found them. I couldn’t bear the thought of making the same mistakes they made, simply because I didn’t know any better. It was better not to risk offending her, better to be safe. As I’ve said before, there is a great difference between being fearless and being brave.
We followed the path as it doubled back on itself, continuing up the hill. All was silent except for the wind moving in the tall grass.
“So he’s secretive?” I prompted gently, worried that the silence would soon become uncomfortable.
