Page 125 of Silverbow
“A wise woman.” He darted a look around the table. “I don’t know. Old, gray.”
“Did she have violet eyes?”
The boy blinked at her. “Violet eyes? Nobody has violet eyes.”
Oryn loosened his grip on his fork.
“What happened, Liam?” She pressed. “What happened at…the house.”
Oryn liked the Gandy Dancer not just because Lemuel Kimball kept a good cook and stablemaster or because the man harbored particular feelings about Pallas Davolier. Long ago, they had discovered an interesting artifact in his private dining room. The little stone donkey that sat in the middle of the table was not purely for decoration. It was Warder made and protected against eavesdropping. And because it was Warder made, Pallas Davolier’s wielders had never detected it. Oryn had wondered how it ended up in an inn in Misthol, but he suspected Master Kimball was well aware of what it was by his refusal to sell it, no matter how much gold he offered. Still, he was glad to see the girl was learning to guard her tongue.
“You mean after you tried to make yourself a martyr?” The boy raked a hand through his hair again, making it stand on end. “Your da was getting everyone to go search when the High Lord of Pavia came up the road with the tax collectors.” He shrugged. “Next thing I know, he’s sending the stable boys home, telling them to run, get their families into the old mines to hide.”
“Oh, light,” Enya breathed.
“They’re fine,” he said quickly. “The High Lord lost interest after…” He trailed off and glanced nervously around. “After your da handed himself over.”
“He what?”
A family trait, that seemed to be, even if Renley Ryerson wasn’t her blood.
Liam shifted in his seat. “I think he was hoping Ralenet would move on, leave us alone. And he did after a fashion.”
Enya was staring at him, wide eyed. “He bloody turned himself in?”
“You’re one to talk,” Liam shot back.
“Do you know where the others are? Griff and Alys?”
Liam shook his head. “My da and I took what we could of the herd up into the high passes. He had an accident going down to check on the families in one of the old mines. Broke his leg. Mistress Amcott and I had to drag him to the wise woman in Baldon. The parchments were plastered everywhere and I just…I…” The boy swallowed. “I knew it was you in Innesh.” He gave the end of her braid a tug. “I’ve been chasing you since, but I must have gotten ahead of you somewhere.”
“Did you tell anyone who you were, or who you were looking for?” Colm asked gently.
The boy shook his head and she fingered the tear in his coat again. “What happened?”
“Couple of blokes in a village along the road knifed me for my coin,” he said. “I’ve been staying at a little hovel out in the Foreshore for my daily wages.”
“You’ll come here,” she said firmly.
“Only after a bath,” Aiden muttered and Oryn heard Colm’s boot connect with his shin under the table.
“I have coin. Gods,Liam.“ She raised a hand to his face as if she still didn’t believe what she was seeing was real. In fairness, that he’d found herwasan incredible feat, even with Colm’s help.
“Ansel is operating on credit,” Aiden said flatly.
Technically, it was true. She still had some of her own silver recovered from Kolvar, but Oryn would pay Kimball’s bill and likely every bill between Misthol and wherever it was they were escorting her to. Now didn’t seem like the time to remind her of that. He was still trying to work out exactly how big this debt was. He’d be covering every bill for the rest of her mortal life if she meant dragon-sized in the literal sense.
The boy’s eyes roved the table. “I hope it’s not too much trouble to-”
“No,” she cut him off with one quiet word and a sad smile. She dug in her pocket and pulled out the horse head carving, setting it on the table between them. “Don’t. You saved me.”
Liam looked sheepishly at the carving. “You kept it.”
He wondered what the boy would think if he realized how tightly she clung to that small splinter of home. It was the same way he had clung to the signet that hung around her neck. The one she called a trinket.
“Did you really put an arrow through a witch? Light, En.”
Oryn swirled the wine in his goblet, disliking the way the boy called her ‘En’as if the second syllable was too much. Aside from the fact that he should not be using her name at all, it seemed to grate against his skin.
