Page 32 of Beds and Blades

“You sound surprised,” she said.

“I am,” I said. “I had certain assumptions about food in a stone fortress.”

“That it would be bad?”

“You could say that. I was very wrong.”

She nodded toward the pitcher near my elbow. “Deeproot?”

I looked at it. The liquid inside was dark and steaming.

“Oh thank God.”

She poured some into a cup and pushed it toward me.

I drank.

The effect was not as dramatic as it had been the first time, probably because I was no longer in the immediate aftermath of interdimensional displacement and facing possible execution. Still, within moments, the thick wool of exhaustion began to loosen around my thoughts. The world sharpened slightly. The edges came back.

“I’m Meghan,” I said.

“I know.” The girl seemed to realize how that sounded and sat a little straighter. “I’m Flavia.”

“Nice to meet you, Flavia.”

“You’re the one who saw what Morvanna’s army was doing. Everyone says that you knew they were only distracting us.”

“I recognized the pattern.”

“That is not what people are saying.”

“What are people saying?”

“That you looked at the whole battle once and told the High Commander where the real attack would come.”

Flavia studied me with open curiosity. It was the look of someone trying to reconcile the story she had been told with the woman in front of her, who was eating barley porridge like civilization depended on it.

“You do not look like I expected,” she said.

“What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure. Someone taller, possibly. More visibly prophetic. Someone with long robes like a mage.”

“I’m afraid the prophetic wardrobe department was not consulted.”

“Is it true you are from another world?”

I considered several possible answers. There was no real advantage, at this point, to hedging.

“Yes.”

“What is it called?”

“Earth.”

“What is Earth like?”

I took a sip of deeproot and considered how to summarize indoor plumbing, antibiotics, nuclear weapons, representative government, space travel, the internet, and pornography.