I rode on, passing other empty houses. The houses, both fallen and standing, had been built of logs rather than plank. The town was abandoned, or nearly so. When I finally sighted a house with a trickle of smoke rising from its chimney, I halted and dismounted. I approached the door cautiously, knocked, and then stood back from it. Some moments passed, then a very old man opened the door slowly. Before I could offer any greeting or even ask to buy food and a night’s lodging, a woman’s voice shrieked from inside. “Close it! Close that door, you old fool! Why do you think I barred it? He’s here to murder us and rob us. Shut the door!”

“I’ve money to pay for a meal!” I shouted hastily, but the old man only looked at me with pale, rheumy eyes and then obediently but gently shut the door in my face. “I can pay!” I shouted at the closed door. There was no response. I shook my head in frustration and walked on, leading Clove.

I passed five shells of houses and then stopped outside a fenced area where a man was digging potatoes. His cottage looked well-tended, as did the little garden that surrounded him. At sight of me, he stopped his digging.

He switched his grip on the shovel, holding it as if it were a pike. “Good day, sir,” I offered him.

“Keep on your way,” he advised me gruffly.

“I’d like to buy a meal and a night’s lodging from you. I can pay. I can show you the coin.”

He shook his head. “I’ve no use for coins. What would I do with them?

Make soup?” He looked at me more sharply, and then, perhaps deciding a fat man was not much of a threat, asked shrewdly, “Got anything to barter?” I shook my head slowly. I had nothing I could afford to part with, nothing I could give up that would not leave me in worse need. “Well, we’ve nothing to spare for beggars. Be on your way.” I opened my mouth to say that I had not begged. I could feel my resentment rising in me. I thought of the soldiers and how the magic had boiled with my anger. No. I would not do that again. I would not loose that which I did not understand. I turned away from him and led Clove on. I was hungry, cold, and weary. Thick clouds had been gathering all day and were starting to darken, promising rain by nightfall. If it had been otherwise, I think I would have mounted up and ridden off. The rising wind tugged at my cloak. If all I could buy myself was a dry night’s sleep, I was resolved to have it. At the next cottage with chimney smoke rising from its stack, I gathered up my courage and knocked at a rough wooden door.

It was slow to open. I stood still before it, smiling, for I suspected that someone was peering out at me through one of the numerous chinks in the wall. The small woman who finally opened the door held a large pistol in both her hands. I stepped back. The muzzle of it pointed squarely at my midsection. She could not possibly miss me at this range. I lifted my hands to show they were empty. “I’d just like to buy a night’s lodging and food, ma’am,” I said with great respect.