Page 34 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

“Well, that's why my great-grandson was hiding. He's quick and quiet. One signal from me, and he goes and gets his father, who promptly comes out with the crossbow.”

“You shoot the visitors you don't like?” I ask as the barkeep gives me a short tumbler of ale to try.

Harold shrugs, his bushy white eyebrows raising. “Well, I ask ‘em to leave first. If they don't, that's their choice.”

I laugh, taking a sip of my drink. It's tart, like it was made with berries alongside the wheat, and I nod in appreciation.

“My own special mash,” the barkeep says.

“It's excellent…”

“Theron,” he says, holding out a hand. “But call me Theo.”

I shake his hand, noting his firm handshake. “It’s excellent, Theo,” I say, and he pulls out a large tumbler matching Harold's and fills it to the brim. “You’re the one who built the cellars?” I ask.

“Och.” He waves me off. “Not alone. I came up with the idea, but the entire village worked on them,” he says, voice full of humility. Sensing his discomfort, I move on.

“Do you serve food?” I ask.

“We do.” He runs a hand through his short red-brown hair, then leans against the counter. “Whatever the cook decides, though. No choosing here.”

“All right. I'll have one of whatever the cook decides, then,” I say with a tight smile of thanks. Theo walks away, and I realize I should ask his name so I can check his history. Based on his size and temperament, Theo could be an asset, if it comes back that he’s not being watched as a potential ceatharnaich or enemy of the Fates.

“So,” Harold says, leaning back in his chair. I go to do the same, then realize Harold’s is the only one with a back, and I can’t help but wonder if it's reserved for him.

“Tell me why you're really here. It's been ages since we've seen a guardian. Even longer since one came in disguise.”

“I was sent by the Fates,” I say plainly. I see no reason to lie, since my being here has nothing to do with them at all.

“Is it the Epoch? It's about that time,” the old man says sagely.

“You know much about the last one?” I ask him.

“I remember it well. Not the actual day, of course, but the aftermath.” He nods grimly. I was young, born only a hair over a decade after it ended. A long one, that Epoch.”

I nod, impressed with how much he knows. The Epoch usually lasts a year, maybe two, but the last one took nearly ten years to end.

He takes a sip, then continues. “Too much violence. Too much bloodshed.” He levels me with a look, and I put my drink down, giving him my full attention. “You'll find no ceatharnaich here. We're just men and women who want to live a simple life.” Harold holds my stare as he says it—a brave man.

“I can see that,” I say.

“Then be straight with me.” He meets my eyes, holding them as if searching for any hint of a lie. “Are we a target for the Fates? Do they think something's happening here that isn't?”

I shake my head, placing a hand on Harold’s shoulder in what I hope is comfort. “No. You're safe. Your family’s safe. My being here has nothing to do with the goings on of this village.”

The man's throat works as he swallows, relief flooding his features. “Good. But then why are you here?” he asks, apparently still suspicious.

I take a large swig of ale. “Women have been disappearing throughout Na Trì. Have you heard?”

He nods. “There have been rumors for weeks. But what does that have to do with us?”

“Nothing. Not directly. I’m here for the Washwoman.”

The man's eyes widen, and the tavern goes silent, a wave of quiet washing outward until even the darkest corners are void of sound. For a moment, I wonder if my dàn of dread has activated, but it remains sleeping on my neck.

“Why would the Fates send you to find her?” Harold whispers, and I clear my throat, uncomfortable with the number of ears listening in. “Why would you want anything to do with that horrible monster? Have you not seen the dragon that flies above her river? Even she doesnae get close to that cursed creature,” he says.

Grateful for his confirmation the dragon willnae land, I continue. “The missing women are vanishing into thin air, leaving no trace behind. I'm here to make sure the Washwoman isnae one of them.”