travel much faster alone." To Edris, she said, "Would you ... Could it be possible ... Is there any way—"
"I would very much like for your mother to stay here," Edris said, as though the idea had come to her first, "if that would be convenient for you. My father so much enjoyed talking to her this evening."
Modig thumped his cane. "Listens better than anybody. I haven't met such a good listener since the old blacksmith died."
Edris said, "You mean Deaf Harold?"
"The very one," Modig agreed.
Nola's mother got a distant expression on her face. "Harold," she said thoughtfully. "Harold..."
Nola rested her face in her hands, but in the end her mother said, "No. No Deaf Harold. Of course, there
is
Abbot Dinsmore, whose hearing isn't very good, on account of all those monastery bells ringing."
"I think," Nola announced to everyone, "it would be best if I start tonight."
"But it's dark out," Edris protested.
That was the whole point. Nola hoped to get to Haymarket before the new day started, before things went too far. "It will be best this way," she assured Edris.
Edris shook her head but didn't argue. "Let me pack a breakfast for you."
It was the second time in a very long day that someone had taken trouble co see that she would have a meal. She was unaccustomed to the concern. "Thank you," she said.
As she followed Edris out of the room, she heard Modig tell her mother, "I knew an abbot once who was so determined to prove he was the holiest man in Christendom that..."
And Nola hurriedly shut the door behind her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
N OLA PLANNED TO walk all night. But two days of almost steady walking and near-constant fear, separated by only one short night of rest in the silversmith's house, had left her drained, And obviously, she chided herself as she accidentally strayed off the path and stepped calf-deep into a cold stream, making one bad decision after another. Her legs wobbling under her. It would be safer, she told herself, to rest during the darkest part of che night. Arriving in Haymarket at dawn couldn't be that much better than arriving midmorning, while arriving too exhausted to think straight would be considerably worse.
As she lay down in a grassy hollow formed between the massive roots of a huge oak, she just hoped that the situation wasn't already far beyond what she and her wits could handle.
***
W HEN SHE AWOKE it was dawn, which was later than she had planned, and it was raining.
Last chance,
she told herself, as her skirt flapped in the wind.
This is the last sensible time to change your mind and go back to the tavern, fetch Mother, and make a run for it.
But she still couldn't convince herself that running
was
a sensible plan.
Crouched under the shelter of the tree—which wasn't much shelter at all—she ate the sliced mutton and bread that Edris had packed for her. As the ground under her feet melted into mud, she heard from the nearby road the rattle of a wagon coming from the direction of Saint Erim Turi, headed toward Haymarket. For the moment she and the wagon were still separated by a slight rise in the road.
Surely if it was
sensible
she was after, it was better to ride than to walk, even if the rain
was
beginning to lessen.
Nola took from her bodice the piece of wool that still contained the hairs she had collected at the silversmith's house. The gray one, Innis's, she would never use now. But there were still two of Brinna's, at least one of Alan's, and two, possibly three, of Kirwyn's—not that she was eager to look in on Kirwyn again. But she
might
need the hairs—who knew what the future might bring?—so she set aside the wool to keep them out of the range of the spell she was about to cast.
Then, still crouched down, she wrapped her arms about herself and said the magic words that would shift her appearance. She chose to look like a young boy, feeling that was probably safer—out in the countryside alone among strangers—than being a young woman, even a rather plain
"I would very much like for your mother to stay here," Edris said, as though the idea had come to her first, "if that would be convenient for you. My father so much enjoyed talking to her this evening."
Modig thumped his cane. "Listens better than anybody. I haven't met such a good listener since the old blacksmith died."
Edris said, "You mean Deaf Harold?"
"The very one," Modig agreed.
Nola's mother got a distant expression on her face. "Harold," she said thoughtfully. "Harold..."
Nola rested her face in her hands, but in the end her mother said, "No. No Deaf Harold. Of course, there
is
Abbot Dinsmore, whose hearing isn't very good, on account of all those monastery bells ringing."
"I think," Nola announced to everyone, "it would be best if I start tonight."
"But it's dark out," Edris protested.
That was the whole point. Nola hoped to get to Haymarket before the new day started, before things went too far. "It will be best this way," she assured Edris.
Edris shook her head but didn't argue. "Let me pack a breakfast for you."
It was the second time in a very long day that someone had taken trouble co see that she would have a meal. She was unaccustomed to the concern. "Thank you," she said.
As she followed Edris out of the room, she heard Modig tell her mother, "I knew an abbot once who was so determined to prove he was the holiest man in Christendom that..."
And Nola hurriedly shut the door behind her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
N OLA PLANNED TO walk all night. But two days of almost steady walking and near-constant fear, separated by only one short night of rest in the silversmith's house, had left her drained, And obviously, she chided herself as she accidentally strayed off the path and stepped calf-deep into a cold stream, making one bad decision after another. Her legs wobbling under her. It would be safer, she told herself, to rest during the darkest part of che night. Arriving in Haymarket at dawn couldn't be that much better than arriving midmorning, while arriving too exhausted to think straight would be considerably worse.
As she lay down in a grassy hollow formed between the massive roots of a huge oak, she just hoped that the situation wasn't already far beyond what she and her wits could handle.
***
W HEN SHE AWOKE it was dawn, which was later than she had planned, and it was raining.
Last chance,
she told herself, as her skirt flapped in the wind.
This is the last sensible time to change your mind and go back to the tavern, fetch Mother, and make a run for it.
But she still couldn't convince herself that running
was
a sensible plan.
Crouched under the shelter of the tree—which wasn't much shelter at all—she ate the sliced mutton and bread that Edris had packed for her. As the ground under her feet melted into mud, she heard from the nearby road the rattle of a wagon coming from the direction of Saint Erim Turi, headed toward Haymarket. For the moment she and the wagon were still separated by a slight rise in the road.
Surely if it was
sensible
she was after, it was better to ride than to walk, even if the rain
was
beginning to lessen.
Nola took from her bodice the piece of wool that still contained the hairs she had collected at the silversmith's house. The gray one, Innis's, she would never use now. But there were still two of Brinna's, at least one of Alan's, and two, possibly three, of Kirwyn's—not that she was eager to look in on Kirwyn again. But she
might
need the hairs—who knew what the future might bring?—so she set aside the wool to keep them out of the range of the spell she was about to cast.
Then, still crouched down, she wrapped her arms about herself and said the magic words that would shift her appearance. She chose to look like a young boy, feeling that was probably safer—out in the countryside alone among strangers—than being a young woman, even a rather plain
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