days.”
“The Stanton lands? Have it as you will.” The freemerchant made a moue of… disgust? Simple disagreement? “We live ever in changing times. I thank you for your warning. The road we travelled was tranquil.”
“You may meet one of our party on the road: a woman on a bay horse.”
“If she is in need of assistance she will not be denied it.” Nicholl’s eyes flicked to Alwenna once more before he took up his reins and urged his horse forward. “May the Hunter watch over you.” His horse pressed past them in the narrow space between the trees and with a creaking of harness the string of ponies followed him. Behind them were several more men of varying ages, all with the same russet hair, then three women. Scarves wrapped about their heads hid their hair but Alwenna guessed it to be oiled back as the men’s had been, for the air was heavy with the scent of the aromatic oil they used. A memory stirred, too elusive for her to pin down. She’d met that scent somewhere recently, somewhere unexpected. It was a scent she connected with the market, but she hadn’t been there in recent weeks.
Weaver waited until the caravan had vanished from sight among the trees before nudging his horse forward. “We should press on.”
“A coincidence to meet someone who knows you out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“I’ve never met him before in my life.” Weaver took up his reins and kicked his horse forward.
“But he recognised you. He knew your name.”
“A lucky guess, nothing more. More like he recognised you.”
“Dressed like this? That would be a very lucky guess indeed.”
“The freemerchants do a lively enough trade in rumour. Depend upon it I told him nothing he didn’t already know.”
“But how could he guess your name like that? Is it true what they say: that they have a sixth sense?”
“People say a great many things. Would you believe them all?”
“It was a perfectly reasonable question. You clearly know more of the freemerchants than I do – would it be so difficult to give a straight answer?”
“Apologies, my lady. It is not the truth that matters in this case. It suits the freemerchants to let common folk believe they could curse the ground out from beneath them if they dared cross them. It ensures the ignorant treat them with – if not respect – at least caution.”
“The fact remains he knew your name. Are we compromised now? Less safe than we were?”
“The freemerchants are no threat. Nicholl gave you his name and claimed you as sister. You’d do well to remember that. They’ll take no side in Peninsular issues, but you can claim their protection.”
“Why would he do that? He’s a total stranger – and one I’m never likely to meet again.”
“My lady, your guess would be as good as mine. Like as not he wished to impress you. What man would not?” He urged his horse forward into a trot, putting an end to her questions as she sought to keep her balance. Weaver was one man who certainly had no interest in impressing her. It would have been unladylike to pull a face behind his back. And so it was. She found the tiny act of rebellion strangely satisfying.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The standing stones ran in a precise north-south line across the ridge. Some of the ancient stones had toppled, while others leaned at improbable angles. Weaver had ridden this road dozens of times, but the place had an unearthly air that always made him uneasy. Their path ran alongside the stones for a short distance before dipping south-west down the flank of the ridge, traversing the lower slopes of the mountain that rose ahead of them. Their horse jogged and sidled as they neared the stones and he brought it to a halt.
“What is this place?” Alwenna slid down from where she perched behind him, looking around, eyes wide, not unlike a slack-jawed peasant on first seeing a city.
“You sense it, then?” Of course she could, he’d expected as much. There was no way she could have
“The Stanton lands? Have it as you will.” The freemerchant made a moue of… disgust? Simple disagreement? “We live ever in changing times. I thank you for your warning. The road we travelled was tranquil.”
“You may meet one of our party on the road: a woman on a bay horse.”
“If she is in need of assistance she will not be denied it.” Nicholl’s eyes flicked to Alwenna once more before he took up his reins and urged his horse forward. “May the Hunter watch over you.” His horse pressed past them in the narrow space between the trees and with a creaking of harness the string of ponies followed him. Behind them were several more men of varying ages, all with the same russet hair, then three women. Scarves wrapped about their heads hid their hair but Alwenna guessed it to be oiled back as the men’s had been, for the air was heavy with the scent of the aromatic oil they used. A memory stirred, too elusive for her to pin down. She’d met that scent somewhere recently, somewhere unexpected. It was a scent she connected with the market, but she hadn’t been there in recent weeks.
Weaver waited until the caravan had vanished from sight among the trees before nudging his horse forward. “We should press on.”
“A coincidence to meet someone who knows you out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“I’ve never met him before in my life.” Weaver took up his reins and kicked his horse forward.
“But he recognised you. He knew your name.”
“A lucky guess, nothing more. More like he recognised you.”
“Dressed like this? That would be a very lucky guess indeed.”
“The freemerchants do a lively enough trade in rumour. Depend upon it I told him nothing he didn’t already know.”
“But how could he guess your name like that? Is it true what they say: that they have a sixth sense?”
“People say a great many things. Would you believe them all?”
“It was a perfectly reasonable question. You clearly know more of the freemerchants than I do – would it be so difficult to give a straight answer?”
“Apologies, my lady. It is not the truth that matters in this case. It suits the freemerchants to let common folk believe they could curse the ground out from beneath them if they dared cross them. It ensures the ignorant treat them with – if not respect – at least caution.”
“The fact remains he knew your name. Are we compromised now? Less safe than we were?”
“The freemerchants are no threat. Nicholl gave you his name and claimed you as sister. You’d do well to remember that. They’ll take no side in Peninsular issues, but you can claim their protection.”
“Why would he do that? He’s a total stranger – and one I’m never likely to meet again.”
“My lady, your guess would be as good as mine. Like as not he wished to impress you. What man would not?” He urged his horse forward into a trot, putting an end to her questions as she sought to keep her balance. Weaver was one man who certainly had no interest in impressing her. It would have been unladylike to pull a face behind his back. And so it was. She found the tiny act of rebellion strangely satisfying.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The standing stones ran in a precise north-south line across the ridge. Some of the ancient stones had toppled, while others leaned at improbable angles. Weaver had ridden this road dozens of times, but the place had an unearthly air that always made him uneasy. Their path ran alongside the stones for a short distance before dipping south-west down the flank of the ridge, traversing the lower slopes of the mountain that rose ahead of them. Their horse jogged and sidled as they neared the stones and he brought it to a halt.
“What is this place?” Alwenna slid down from where she perched behind him, looking around, eyes wide, not unlike a slack-jawed peasant on first seeing a city.
“You sense it, then?” Of course she could, he’d expected as much. There was no way she could have
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