Page 5 of Ties of Legacy

But to his astonishment, the smith greeted her with acceptance, if not actual warmth. He handed her a small package, already wrapped, and gestured for her to examine the haphazard stash of items he kept piled right at the back of the smithy. It was the stash Elliot had spent far too many hours staring at from afar.

Frustration boiled up inside him. The smith had told him six months’ wait! And yet this traveler had been welcomed back in only a day. She had been permitted to waltz in and browse the smith’s wares only hours after her arrival. But the smith couldn’t sell Elliot a single measly candelabra? It wasn’t even an attractive candelabra.

He let the emotions wash over him and roll away again as he watched the girl. Just like in the street, it was hard to look away from the elegance of her movements. Who was she? If the smith hadn’t forbidden him entry, he would have been tempted to follow her inside just to ask her name.

She retrieved an empty wooden box from her cart before picking through the smith’s wares, selecting some to pack inside the crate. Elliot leaned to the side, trying to get a better look at what she was purchasing. Her body blocked his line of sight, andhe stepped further and further into the street in an attempt to get a clear view.

The girl swung around—calling something inaudible to the smith—and Elliot pulled quickly back. But as he moved, he caught a passing glimpse of what she held in her hand. His heart contracted.

A candelabra. She was holding a candelabra with three familiar branches.

He surged forward, forgetting about concealment in his need to confirm what he’d seen. But she was already bending over, packing something into the crate. Was it the candelabra? She had just been holding it in her hand, so it seemed a reasonable assumption. But what if it hadn’t been?

His fists clenched with the desire for immediate action. But what could he do? Barge in there and try to grab the candelabra from her crate? He didn’t need another look at the smith’s muscled arms to know that wasn’t going to succeed.

Suddenly his curiosity about the mystery girl’s identity didn’t seem so foolish. He was sure he’d never seen her before her arrival in Henton, but her cart and even the crate she was packing suggested she was a roving merchant. He’d met far more roving merchants than most people. He was one of the few people in the kingdoms to travel as much as they did—him and his unfortunate candelabra.

But even among the roving merchants, it was unusual to see someone traveling alone. How had she ended up on her own? And where was she going?

It didn’t really matter where she was going, though. It only mattered that she was leaving Henton.

Excitement built up inside him, making it even harder to keep still. He didn’t know why she wanted his battered old candelabra, but it would surely be easier to retrieve from her cart than it had been from inside the smithy.

His momentary dismay at seeing it in her hand had turned to elation, and he couldn’t wait for her to finish her transaction and leave with the candelabra. She took several more minutes, however, selecting more items from the pile to fill her crate.

Elliot used the extra time to strategize. He could always approach her and ask to buy the candelabra, but the debacle with the smith had left him wary. If she refused, she would then be on her guard against him. And while she might not look like much of a threat, anyone who traveled alone through the kingdoms with a cart of valuables shouldn’t be underestimated.

It would be better to take the candelabra while she was camped for the night. He would leave enough coin behind to cover its value three times over, of course, as he had intended to do with the smith. He didn’t like that he’d been reduced to thievery, but with his life on the line, he couldn’t afford to make another misstep.

But first he needed to check that she really had selected the candelabra. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—he had an easy way to confirm the location of his stolen possession. He just had to wait until she took to the road with her new wares.

She finally finished selecting her items and handed over a pouch of coin. The smith bounced it twice on his palm and grunted, nodding that their business was complete. Elliot had been surprised the first time the smith had done something similar, but he had seen it several times since. Along with being taciturn, surly, and lacking in basic human compassion, the man added the talent of measuring the value of coins from their weight alone.

At least the smith’s charming nature meant Elliot didn’t have to wait while the girl made any polite small talk with him. With their business completed, she left immediately. He was a little concerned she might have further business in the immediate vicinity, but she mounted onto the simple wooden bench at thefront of the cart and clucked at her horse. The chestnut mare responded instantly, pulling the cart down the street.

Elliot forced himself to remain still, his muscles taut at his lack of motion. His body was screaming at him to run after the cart, but he forced himself to wait. He had to be sure.

His eyes were the only thing to follow the cart’s course, staring after it with an intensity that suggested it would disappear if he so much as blinked. He needed to wait, but he also couldn’t afford to lose track of the cart. He already knew how painful it would be to track the girl down if that happened. He had experienced that joyful experience once, and he didn’t intend to repeat it.

His breathing rasped in and out of his lungs, and his legs trembled. But it hadn’t been long enough. He couldn’t be sure the symptoms weren’t a result of his tension. He had to be sure.

Another minute passed. And another.

A surge of bile rose up in his throat, and it was all he could do to stop the contents of his stomach from being violently expelled. His head spun, something pounding against his skull. He took a step forward, and his knees nearly buckled.

The response was even worse than last time. The effect of separation from the candelabra was getting more extreme. Brilliant. That was all he needed.

But at least it answered his question. His days spent lurking across the street from the smith’s had returned him almost to full strength. There was no way his candelabra was still in the forge.

He tried to run after the cart but could only manage a stumbling walk. He had been worried about the girl noticing him trailing her, but apparently that shouldn’t have been his main concern. He had already lost sight of the cart.

He gritted his teeth and forced his legs to move faster. If he could just close the gap between them, it would get easier.He needed to find the perfect distance to tail her—close enough that he could still move freely but not so close as to catch her attention.

He shuffled faster. At least the horse had been moving at a slow walk—a sustainable pace rather than a sprint.

Gradually his stomach settled, and the pounding in his head dropped to a light pulse. But he didn’t fully breathe easily until he rounded a bend in the road and saw the cart ahead. He immediately pulled back, relief filling him.

He wanted to rush forward and lift the symptoms entirely, but he could endure some discomfort until night fell and the roving merchant made camp. She would have to sleep beside the road. At her current pace, there were no towns or villages close enough to reach in one day.

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