The Shadow's heir

asleep. By now she already knew what was in there.

She pulled out a wooden box. It was full of oblong, and she tipped them into her money-bag. There were also several bottles of strong barley wine-she hesitated for a long moment before stuffing two of them in her makeshift bag. And, hidden under that. .

Laela brought out a long object wrapped in cloth.

She pulled away the wrappings, and uncovered a short sword. It was a well-made thing with an oiled-steel blade and a plain bronze hilt, and it had been stored with a red leather sheath.

Laela tied the sheath to her belt and replaced the boards before she stood up. The sword’s weight felt reassuring at her hip.

Once that was done, she paused to take one last look around at her former home.

“I’d stay,” she mumbled aloud, in answer to the feeling of longing that hung in the air. “I would, honest. But I can’t. Not any more. But I hope whoever lives here next remembers I was here. An’ Dad. Him, too.”

She left the house via the back door and locked it before walking slowly and warily back toward Bran’s grave.

There was no sign of the griffin. She hastily snatched up the shovel and filled in the grave without looking into it, muttering the ritual prayers as well as she remembered them.

When that was done, she walked away without a backward glance.

Out in the village streets, people openly stared at her as she passed. Some of them called out to her, but she ignored them-whether they were insults or friendly greetings, she didn’t care.

She made straight for the centre of the village, for the modest building that was home to, not the governor of this piece of land, but one of his officials, who had been given the unrewarding job of living in the village and handling its official matters.

Laela nodded curtly to the guard by the door. “I want t’see Kendrick.”

“That’d be Lord Kendrick to you, girl,” the guard snapped.

Laela straightened up. “He ain’t no lord an’ everyone knows it, Gower, so let me through.”

“You got a fine tongue on yer for a peasant,” the guard muttered, but he knew better than to pick a fight, and went on more moderately. “What’s it regardin’?”

“I’m here t’talk to him about the rent,” said Laela. “Dad sent me.”

Gower nodded. “Right then,” he said. “May as well let yer in. How’s yer dad, by the way?”

“Much better today,” Laela mumbled, and went in.

She had been in this building before, when Bran went there on official business, and she found Kendrick’s office easily enough. She knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Laela obeyed.

Kendrick, a pasty-faced middle-aged man, squinted at her. “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “What d’you want? Why are you carrying all that, may I ask?”

Laela dumped her possessions on the floor but kept the sword. “Just wanted a quick word with yeh, sir.”

“If it’s quick,” he said, in rather ungracious tones. “What’s the problem? How’s your father, by the way?”

“He’s dead, sir,” said Laela.

He started at that. “Oh. I didn’t. . uh, I’m sorry to hear it.”

Laela knew he wasn’t. “I’m leavin’, sir,” she said. “Dad’s dead, so I’m gettin’ out of this bloody place while I can an’ before people know about it.”

“I see. So why are you telling me this?”

“I won’t need my Dad’s house no more,” said Laela. “So I’m sellin’ it back to yeh.”

Kendrick gave her a look. “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as-”

“I ain’t interested in no arguin’,” said Laela. “I know how much my dad paid yeh in rent, an’ I know what the property’s worth. So I want two hundred oblong.”

“You want-” Kendrick controlled himself. “You don’t seem to understand,” he said in patronising tones, as if he were speaking to a small child. “Your father didn’t own the house, he rented it from me. Therefore, you can’t sell it.”

“Fine,” said Laela. “But my dad paid rent in advance for this whole month comin’, an’ this whole month just started today. So give me the money back, an’ I’ll get goin’.”

“Well.” He softened. “There’s no need to be so hasty-”

“Yeah, there is,” Laela snapped. “An’ I don’t need any of yer blather about paperwork an’ all the rest of that nonsense. Yeh don’t want no stinkin’ half-breed hangin’ about the place, so just give me the damn money, an’ I’ll be out of yer hair.”

“I’ll give you a hundred and fifty oblong,” said Kendrick.

“Two hundred.”

“Young lady, this is not marketplace bartering,” said Kendrick. “I’m offering you a hundred and fifty oblong, and that’s final.”

“Two hundred,” Laela repeated in a flat voice. “Two hundred, an’ I’m gone.”

He threw up his hands. “Why should I be giving you money at all? You weren’t the one who paid the rent. It’s not even your money to take.”

“My dad didn’t have no other family,” said Laela. “Just me. An’ I was here when he told yeh I’d get everythin’ he owned after he died, see? I inherit everythin’. So hand it over.”

He glared at her.

She glared back.

Finally, Kendrick threw up his hands. “All right, fine. It’s not as if it’s my money anyway. Show this piece of paper to the treasurer, and she’ll give you what you’re after. I suggest you take it and go.”

Laela waited until he had finished scribbling down the order and calmly took it from him. “See yeh.”

“Laela?”

She paused in the doorway and looked back. “What?”

Kendrick had stood up. “Where are you going to go?” he asked, almost gently.

Laela stared coldly at him. “I’m gonna take the advice people’ve bin yellin’ at me in the street for years. I’m goin’ North.”

Kendrick stared at her. “What? Laela Redguard, you can’t be serious! The North. .?”

“I am serious,” she said. She sneered at him. “Where else is a half-breed gonna go?”

He paused briefly, and then sat down again. “You’ll be killed,” he said bluntly. “The instant you set foot in darkman territory. .”

“What, they’ll treat me worse than you would’ve?” said Laela. She spat. “I ain’t known nothin’ but prejudice from anyone here ’cept Dad. Maybe a blackrobe would understand that. It’s a hope, an’ I’m takin’ it.”

She walked out of the office.

At noon that day, she left the village, too, with a bag of gold oblong, her sword, supplies for a few days, and faint hope wavering in her chest.

Laela had never left the village before in her life, and she did so very nervously now. She followed the main road on foot until she managed to beg a ride on a vegetable cart heading for the next village. It arrived after nightfall, and once she had disembarked, she snuck into a barn and slept hidden behind a pile of hay.

She woke up at dawn and slipped out before anyone found her.

In the marketplace, she bought some food, careful to keep her hair covered by a hood as she had since leaving home, and went on her way.

And that was how she travelled: sometimes on foot, sometimes on a cart or with a group of other travellers, never exchanging more than a few words with anyone. She kept her money well hidden and her sword not so well hidden, and most of the time, people left her alone. It was a hard life, and lonely, but she held up well enough, and after a few days, she began to feel a sense of freedom, and even excitement, through the cloud of misery that had been hanging over her head ever since her father’s death.