“Ty ispytyvayesh’ moyu volyu2,” muttered Rov from behind them.
“Which sights will you show to me today?” Rurik asked genially, ignoring his countryman.
“On your left, there is stone,” said Saga. “On your right, more crumbling stone.”
“It is far to ravine tower?”
“Five, perhaps ten minutes.” Saga tried to ignore the feel of his large, warm body beside her—tried to shake the memory of that body pressing her into a wall.
“Let us play a game while we are walking,” said Rurik, a smile in his voice.
“A game?”
“Game of smacking some sense into your head,” muttered Rov.
Rurik ignored him. “Is game of discoveries. I will tell you a thing I have discovered, then you do the same.”
Saga pressed her lips together in thought.
“As fine upstanding gentleman?—”
Rov and Saga snorted at the same time. Glancing over her shoulder, they exchanged looks of agreement.
“I am choosing to ignore that, my lady,” Rurik said jovially. “And you, my boot polisher.” He glared over his shoulder at Rov. “As I am saying, I will go first so that you might learn. I have discovered I do not care for famous Íseldurian oat pies.”
“Oatcake,” Saga corrected, before she could stop herself. “How could you say this? Our oatcakes arerenowned!”
Rov made a dismissive sound. “Is ‘oat-stone’ other name for oatcake?”
Saga huffed indignantly.
“Hard like rock and having no taste,” said Rurik. “Someday, you will taste thebliniof Zagadka. Then you will know.”
More incoherent mutterings came from behind them.
“Ignore him,” said Rurik. “Is past his bedtime.”
Saga smothered a smile. “I thought Zagadka’s lands were closed to foreigners.”
A muscle in Rurik’s jaw feathered. “Is true. For now.”
Saga raised a brow.
He sighed. “Like oatcake, the older generation in Zagadka is also like stone—unmoving in their beliefs.”
Rov grunted his agreement.
“Zagadkian elders are fools,” continued Rurik. “They think secrecy keeps peace and safety in the realm. They are comfortable and lazy…no. Is wrong word.” He paused in thought.
“Complacent,”offered Rov.
“Complacent,” repeated Rurik. “Younger generation is eager for change—to modernize, to gain allies and learn from them.”
“Is that why you’ve come to Íseldur?” asked Saga. “I know you’re searching for something. What is it?”
Rov barked a rapid flurry from behind them, but Rurik merely chuckled. “I must be guarding my mouth around you, Saga.” He leveled that green gaze at her, causing prickles to dance across her skin. “You will try to charm my disobedient tongue.”
Mention of his tongue made a flush creep up her neck. “Is your turn, Winterwing.”
