She had thought she'd feel at home in the north; she was northern. But Brewersbridge was far from home. Maybe that was it. She thought of Vérella, thought of going straight on to Three Firs. She had money enough; she could make more show than even her cousin. She imagined her mother's smile, her father's scowl—but he might not be angry, with the dowry repaid. She wondered what she would tell them, and what they would ask. Her musings ended there. She could not tell them anything they would understand. They would see her as these folk did: dangerous, wild, a stranger. She started to pour more ale, and found the tankard dry. She was still thirsty. She beckoned to Hebbinford, but when he came she doubted the steadiness of her voice and asked for water. His expression approved that choice. The merchants left the room and went upstairs.

Paks drank the water and thought of what she would do the next day. She needed new clothes, at least a new shirt. A saddle for Star. She knew where the tailor's shop was, and the leatherworker's—if he made saddles. She would order a shirt or two, and then think about how long to stay. Suddenly she remembered the tall man the smith had felled. How was he? She was unwilling to ask the innkeeper. She picked up the pastry from a dish she had pushed aside and bit into it absently. It had been a long day.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Next morning she woke again at dawn. This time Hebbinford seemed to expect her when she padded down the stairs and out to the stableyard. There she stretched and twisted, working the stiffness out of her shoulder. When Sevri came out, they fed the horses together. Paks stopped to watch the black horse eat. She wondered what would happen to it if its master died. She imagined herself riding away on it—then wondered if she could even mount it.

The tailor, she found after breakfast, was away on a trip. "Buying cloth up at the Count's fair," said his wife. "He's got a commission to make cloaks for the new council members, and has gone to buy cloth. He won't be home for a sennight or more. But what did you need, lady? Perhaps I could serve?"

"Well—some shirts, at least. I'd wanted a cloak, a heavy traveling cloak for winter."

"Fur? I couldn't do fur, nor does he, without it being paid in advance."

"No, not fur. Just good warm wool, weatherproofed—"

"Plain shirts, or fancy ones?"

Paks thought of her money. "Plain. Maybe one fancy one."

"The plain shirts I can do. And here—here's our silks, from the south. They say you've been there; you'll know these are good."