That Steleshame had its own blacksmith was a mark of the prestige granted it by the king’s protection. But the blacksmith, a short, burly man stained almost as dark as Liath by years of working in fire and ash, did not recognize the bow or the case, nor did he recall when or how the weapon had come to Steleshame. Indeed, no one did, and Gisela soon chased the children back to their chores and the women back to their weaving and spinning.
She presided over the midday meal of roasted chickens, leeks, bread, cheese, honeyed mead, and apples. When the meal was finished and all had toasted St. Bonfilia, whose day this was, Gisela allowed her niece, a handsome young woman with pale blonde hair, to bring forward the two new cloaks.
“Spun last winter,” she said, “of Andallan wool from the Pyrani Mountains. The wool from that region is particularly strong and warm. My cousin’s husband brought me four bags of it from Medemelacha.”
“Medemelacha is a long way from here,” said Wolfhere.
“He travels by ship every other year,” explained Gisela, not without pride. “We have a prosperous holding, enough to feed the king should his progress ever ride this way!”
“Be careful what you wish for,” muttered Hanna. “I can only imagine what it must take to feed all the people who travel with the king.”
“It has been six years since the king visited Gent,” said Wolfhere calmly, not seeming to scorn Mistress Gisela’s boast. “And with the current troubles we have heard of, perhaps you will get your wish.”
She nodded briskly. “The Dragons rode through not twelve days ago, as I told you. But they rode in great haste, and I could do no more than give them provisions while the blacksmith checked over their armor and gear. Then they were on their way.”
As Gisela spoke, Liath noticed to her surprise that the niece blushed a bright red and lifted the bundled cloaks up to conceal her face.
Mistress Gisela clucked, shaking her head. “Ai, yes, I hope the Dragons can drive the Eika away. Gent is only three days’ ride from here, if the rains haven’t been bad. It is out through Gent that my cousin’s husband travels, down the Veser River and out by the northern sea west along the coast of Wendar and then west and south along the coast of Varre and farther south yet to Salia, to the emporia there. If the Eika continue to raid, or if they invade, as some say they have this spring, then—well!” She threw up her hands in distress, but Liath suspected that Mistress Gisela relished having an audience to appreciate her family’s importance and far-ranging connections. “How will we trade by sea if the river is in the hands of savages?”
“How indeed. Your hospitality had been most gracious, Mistress.” Wolfhere now rose, and Gisela rose with him. “But we must ride.”
At this command, the others rose as well, moving away from the table.
“Come forward, child,” said Gisela curtly. The niece, hesitant and still blushing, presented the cloaks to Wolfhere. He took them, turned, and handed one to Hanna and one to Liath.
“This is very fine work!” said Hanna, taken quite by surprise.
“I thank you,” said Gisela. “You will certainly hear as you travel that Steleshame is renowned for its weaving. I only keep in the weaving room those of the women who are in good health and particularly adept at the craft. The others I sell or put out into the fields with the men. And any of my relatives’ daughters who show skill in needlework are fostered here with me until they marry.”
Liath merely smiled, stroking the thick gray cloak. It was bordered with a scarlet trim, a length of cloth as deep a red as blood, which had been embroidered with gold eagles from top to bottom. She edged past Wolfhere to stand beside the niece.
“Is this your needlework?” she asked. The pretty girl nodded, flushing again. “It is very fine. I will always think of you when I wear it.”
The niece smiled tentatively, then spoke in a voice so muted Liath could barely hear her: “You will see the Dragons?”
“I suppose we will.”
“Perhaps you could ask—” She broke off, looked mortified, then finished in a murmur. “No. He won’t be thinking of me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
But the others had already moved outside, and Liath had to follow them. Boys from the stable had saddled new horses. Hathui was already mounted, looking impatient to be gone.
“I can ride well enough,” Hanna was saying. “But I worry that Liath isn’t strong enough yet.” She glanced toward the door, saw that Liath had emerged. “You know it’s true!” she added snappishly.
