Patricia Briggs by The Hob's Bargain Page B

about Kith and Quilliar. But Danci had been—was—my friend, too.
    Kith led his horse to a patch of grass and ground-tied him before following me into the cottage. I waited for him to shut the door, then took a seat on a stool set against a wall. As it was the only seat of any kind left in the house, Kith was forced to stand. Leaning back, I closed my eyes and let Danci’s face form in my mind. If it had worked with Cantier, it might work for Danci.
    Honey-brown hair, I thought, with a touch of curl. Gray eyes that glittered with fun and a stubborn jaw. Clear skin and a nose slightly too long for her face. Even as I cataloged Danci’s features, her image faded into another face.
    Predatory eyes, cinnamon-colored and slitted like a cat’s, were startling, but his features were human. Merriment and laughter touched his face, which was a gray darker than night’s shadow. His eyes met mine, and his brow lifted in mild inquiry. I was uneasily certain that he saw me, that perhaps the vision was as much his as it was mine. For an instant I glimpsed loneliness that matched mine, and I wondered what he had lost.
    â€œHob?” said Kith’s voice in my ear. “You mean Hob’s Mountain?”
    I blinked stupidly at him for a moment, oddly startled by the color of his skin. “I don’t know. Do I?”
    â€œAll you said was ‘Hob.’”
    Still half-caught in my vision, I shook my head, unable to answer him because I didn’t remember saying anything. “You said you’re going to Auberg by the old trail over the Hob?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWould you mind if I went with you? Duck’s back, so I wouldn’t need to borrow a horse.” I started to get up, but a wave of dizziness caught me halfway up.
    â€œDid you see something?” He pulled me to my feet and steadied me a moment.
    I nodded. “Nothing to do with Danci. I have no idea what it means, but I think that I might find out on the trip over.” It was something to do besides sit here and contend with memories and visions. Maybe, if I kept busy, the visions would go away. Even this one I’d had about the wildling with red-brown eyes wasn’t as consuming as the ones I’d had earlier.
    Kith nodded once, and stepped outside. “Fine, then. I’m meeting the harper at the inn just before dawn. Pack food to last at least four days.”
    I followed him to his horse. It took him a few moments to gather his reins, and I thought about how frustrating he must find it to have only one arm.
    â€œIf you take the ends of the reins in your teeth you could collect them faster and more evenly,” I observed.
    He smiled at me, surprising me with a glimpse of his old self. “I do, if no one is watching.” Reins properly tightened, he stepped into the saddle.
    â€œKith?” I asked abruptly.
    â€œHmm?” His horse shifted its weight impatiently.
    â€œWould you teach me how to use a knife? I can use a bow—Father taught me. But that wouldn’t do me any good in close quarters. I’ve got one of Daryn’s knives in the house.” It was in the cellar, waiting for sharpening. I could do that tonight.
    â€œFighting?” He looked thoughtful. “I suppose I ought to, with you living out here alone.” He wasn’t stupid enough to tell me that I ought to move into town—the villagers might be more dangerous to me than the raiders. “Fine. Bring your knife with you when you come, and we’ll start tomorrow.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œAren?” he said.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œAre you sure you want to bring Duck? No offense, but he’s not really a riding horse. That trail is really rough, even dangerous in some places. I could borrow one of Father’s mounts for you.”
    â€œCould you?” I said doubtfully, remembering Albrin’s reaction on the long ride to the village. My memories must have been accurate,