The woman’s eyebrows rose as she surveyed the trio. “Justone?”
“We do not have much coin,” Tariel said. “One room will be sufficient for the three ofus.”
“I see,” the woman said, her expression softening as she looked them up and down. Tariel had disguised herself as a mother, and Calrain and Riann as her two young sons, hoping the innkeeper might take pity on them. “I can give you one with two beds, and bring up one of our spare mattresses to put on the floor. Will the three of you be needing supper aswell?”
Tariel nodded. “We’ll take it down here, with somemead.”
They got the room key from the woman, then went around the desk and into the inn’s pub. It was jam-packed in this weather, full of travelers and traders bundled in furs against the cold. Tariel and her men had been on the road for days after successfully slipping through the capital’s gates disguised as monks. They had pawned a few other trinkets from the mansion in exchange for coin, and had pilfered warm traveling clothes from their unwitting host’s closet, but even so, they had scant provisions, certainly not enough to last them thejourney.
“I wish we could have stayed longer to gather a few more supplies,” Calrain said as they sat around a table near the hearth, waiting for their stew. A serving girl came by with three mugs of mead, and Tariel clutched the hot mug eagerly, breathing in the steam and letting it warm her frozenface.
Riann shook his head. “That would have been folly,” he said. “You saw those sketches the royal guard was passingabout.”
Tariel shivered. The queen had gotten a good look at her face, and had commissioned an artist to draw a wanted poster. The likeness had been remarkably good, but then again, she imagined the queen would not soon forget the face of the witch who had broken into her chambers and interrogated her. She wished she had changed her features a bit, but in her excitement, she had not thought ofit.
“We spent far too much time in Kalsing anyway,” Tariel said, trying to reassure them. “The coin we have will last us a day or two longer. By then, we will have crossed the Carlissianborder.”
“Where we can hopefully find work,” Riann said. His eyes lit up at the prospect. “Sir Jerrold will have a harder time finding us, since the authorities will not cooperate with him. We might be able to hide in Carliss long enough to build up someresources.”
“And without stealing this time,” Calrain added with afrown.
“Agreed.” The three of them had felt guilty for taking advantage of the mansion’s absent occupants, though Tariel knew they had not truly hurt their coffers. She had tried to pick items she thought would have the least sentimental value, although one could never tell for certain what items someone might treasure. The silver forks they’d pawned might have been a wedding gift from a treasured friend, for all theyknew.
The stew finally came, and the three dug in eagerly, filling their growling bellies and banishing the last of the cold. They had been traveling for nearly a week on foot, unable to find any horses to commandeer—the area they were traveling through was mountainous and barren, with no manors or farms around, only goats and sheep, which made for good eating but not riding. Tariel had made the journey a bit more bearable by using her magic to make their shoes more comfortable, but even so, they were footsore. They were lucky to have come upon this inn, especially as it had started snowing thisafternoon.
“Hang on,” Riann said, his eyes narrowed. “Is that who I think itis?”
Tariel followed his gaze across the room. “Itolas?” she gasped. He wore a deep red fur coat over dark traveling clothes, and she caught the glint of a saber hanging from his side, but there was no mistaking the Maroyan noble’s striking good looks and violet eyes as he sat, staring grimly into the distance as he supped. Four other men dressed in similar, but less fine clothes, were seated with him, and Tariel assumed those were his servants. “What is he doinghere?”
“He must have decided the city wasn’t safe for a Maroyan, with Jerrold and his knights about,” Calrain said. “The eastern passage is no longerviable.”
“Ugh.” Tariel scrubbed a hand through her hair. “Just our luck. If he’d only decided to leave two days ago, we could have tried to convince him to take us withhim.”
“We’re better off without him,” Riann said, glowering at Itolas. “If he hadn’t told the countess about our conversation, we might not have been forced out of the city soquickly.”
“We can’t blame him for that,” Tariel said. “He didn’t know who we were. I wonder if he would have aided us had he known who I reallywas.”
She was about to rise to go speak to him when the door blew open. Her heart flew into her throat as Sir Jerrold stomped in, six of his witch hunters following single file behind him. Their hair and cloaks were dusted with snow, and they looked downrightgrumpy.
“S-Sir Jerrold,” the woman behind the counter stammered, jumping to her feet. Everyone knew the witch hunter by sight, even if just from stories about him. Parents often used him as a warning for children to behave, as if he were some monster who could jump out from the shadows and eat them, rather than a flesh-and-blood brute. “Will you be needing roomstonight?”
“Four.” He slapped some coins down on thecounter.
“We are quite booked for the evening, but I can get youtwo—”
“Four,” he repeated in a steely tone that brooked no argument. “And my men and I require food and ale aswell.”
He stalked past the stuttering woman and into the pub, which had fallen completely silent. The witch hunter’s gaze went to Itolas first, and Tariel watched curiously as the two men glared at each other. Was there history between them, or did Sir Jerrold always react this way toforeigners?
“Sir Yarim,” Sir Jerrold said with a sneer. “Running with your tail between yourlegs?”
“At least I am not chasing mine in circles out in the cold,” Itolas retorted, his eyes flashing. Tariel and her men exchanged glances at the Maroyan’sboldness.
Sir Jerrold clenched his jaw and stepped forward, closing the distance. “My men require food and rest,” he said, looming over Itolas. “You and your ilk will vacate this table immediately. You may return when we arefinished.”
Itolas merely crossed his legs at the ankles beneath his table, and his servants did not move. “I think this table is just the right size,” he said, smirking up at the knight. “I’d suggest you find someone else tointimidate.”
The witch hunter snarled. “You are far too cocky for a puny man, and one so vastly outnumbered at that,” he said, pulling a metal rod from a pouch swinging at his belt. There were strange symbols embossed on the side, and the sight of them made Tariel shiver inexplicably. “One must wonder if perhaps the Maroyans have been lying, and that their men are witches aswell.”
