And it wasn’t until he had delivered her back to her father, sunburned nose and all, that she realized that she hadn’t thought about the Wars once all afternoon. But what was truly satisfying, she also understood in a flash that in wrestling with worms and hooks and poles that would not do what he wanted them to, neither had Alberich. And that Sendar had sent her off to “do something” at the same time that someone in authority over Alberich had evidently decided that he needed some distraction.

So perhaps her father was even cleverer than she’d thought. No, there’s no perhaps about it, she decided, making her way back toward the Royal Suite. He’s much cleverer than I’d thought.

However, of all the thoughts that had occurred to her today, that was, perhaps, the very least surprising.

11

11

Outside the tavern, a storm raged, effectively ensuring that no one would be leaving or coming in any time soon. Water poured off the eaves of the tavern in sheets, like a waterfall, as the gutters overflowed. The rain spouts added to the mess, spouting like geysers, sending a torrent of water over the cobbles. It was cold out there, the temperature had plummeted, and the rain felt like icewater.

Inside the tavern, those who were stuck here nursed the last dregs of their drinks and contemplated another. Or perhaps, a nice pigeon pie or a good slice of mutton… The innkeeper, anticipating the needs of his customers, had started a kettle of mulled cider, even though it wasn’t the season for any such thing, and the spicy scent began to drift through the inn, turning heads and sharpening appetites. It was unexpectedly cozy in here, with a small fire going, just enough to take the chill off the air. And the ambiance was a million leagues away from the atmosphere in the last tavern Alberich had been in.

Alberich had come out of the secret room at the back of the stables here at the Companion’s Bell, only to find that the storm which had been threatening all day had finally broken. Since he was effectively trapped here and starving, he decided to make a virtue of necessity and avail himself of the little private room reserved for Heralds and their guests.

Of course he was starving; he’d left before suppertime, and you just didn’t eat what was offered in, say, the Broken Arms. Not unless you wanted to have an intimate and detailed knowledge of the inside of the privy, sooner or later, when your stomach objected to what you’d put there. Granted, the indoor water closets at the Collegium were fine things, but not as a place for an extended stay.