Page 51 of Paladin's Faith

“You’re in a good mood,” said Marguerite, amused.

“Mmm.” Wren dropped into a chair. “It was a good day, I think.”

“Oh?”

“Lady Coregator invited me to visit her chambers tomorrow afternoon, to discuss patronage. She has lists of patrons and artisans they support.”

“Oh, very good.” Marguerite nodded to her. “See if you can get a look at that list. If there’s artificers on it, we may get a lead.” She tapped her finger against her lip. “If you can’t, I suppose I can always break in and steal it.”

“That sounds extremely dangerous,” said Shane disapprovingly.

“Yes, well. Needs must.”

“I’ll try to get a look,” said Wren. She leaned back, and then added, with studied casualness, “Ran into a rather nice man today, too.”

Shane’s head snapped up so fast that Marguerite was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. And I hope that Wren is a better liar when it comes to screening patrons than she is when acting casual. Aloud, she said only, “Stand down, Shane, Wren is allowed to meet nice men.”

Shane growled something that sounded like, “No, she isn’t.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” said Wren, rolling her eyes. “I’d spilled wine and he helped me clean up; he didn’t ravish me there on the table.”

Shane’s second growl contained no coherent words, but appeared to indicate that cleaning up spills was a slippery slope to ravishment.

“So what was his name?” asked Marguerite, not bothering to contain her amusement.

“I didn’t catch it.”

“Well, maybe I know him. What did he look like?”

“Errr…” Wren bit her lip. “He had dark hair and…err…?”

Marguerite cocked her head. “I’m going to need a little more than that to go on. What did his face look like?”

“Uh. Face.” Wren’s eyes skittered back and forth. “He definitely had one of those?”

“That’s a relief.”

“Eyes, nose, the whole works.” She nodded firmly. “In all the usual places, too.”

Shane put his head in his hands. “Look, I’m not good with faces!” Wren said defensively.

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?” asked Marguerite, trying not to laugh.

“Oh yes, definitely. Probably. I think.” She gnawed on her lower lip again. “I hope?”

“Right,” said Marguerite. “I’ll keep an eye out for men with dark hair who have faces.”

“I think he was tall,” added Wren.

“You think everyone is tall,” muttered Shane into his hands.

“Was that a short joke? Because if that was a short joke, I will bite your kneecaps bloody.”

“You are short.”

“I am five-foot-four, which is exactly average for a woman from my country.”

“Your country is short.”

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