“Master Jereb,” she said. “I trust you have a sensible reason for interrupting my tea.”

“I apologize, my lady,” Jereb said, bowing low as though addressing a highborn lady who was living in a castle rather than a wooden hut in the middle of the woods. “But Lady Marin has instructed me to introduce you to our newest guest.” He waved a hand backwards, maneuvering his body in an attempt to reveal Perfidy, who was doing her level best to try to hide behind him like a child clinging to her mother’s apron strings. The truth was, she hadn’t had many good experiences with women who came from wealth, and her best strategy had proven to be avoiding them altogether.

A strategy that, this time at least, wouldn’t work, the woman twisting her neck from one side to the other until she pinned Perfidy in place with an unimpressed stare. “What, exactly, is this thing you’ve brought me?” Lady Brenner asked.

“Allow me to introduce Miss Perfidy Tress of Northpoint,” Jereb said.

Perfidy couldn’t hold back the snort at hearing her name all fluffed up and primped like a goose on Old Sky Day.

“Are you part swine?” the woman asked. Rather rudely, in Perfidy’s opinion.

“Not last I checked. But ol’ Mister Chernie once let me muck out his pens. Was more fun than I esspected, especially considerin’ how many times I fell over on my arse. Ma burned my dress an’ scrubbed me fer an hour solid to git the stink out. Longest bath I ever took. My skin was pink like a newborn babe after.”

During her brief story, Lady Brenner’s mouth had grown wider and more twisted, until Perfidy was beginning to worry it might get stuck like that. “Northpoint,” she sniffed, as though she’d caught wind of something foul. “I’m not surprised. I had the displeasure of passing through Finfalla’s northernmost village once. It was filled with thieves and ruffians. More than one caught the wrong end of my stick.” She patted a long, white stick dangling from her wide belt. As far as Perfidy could tell, both ends looked about the same.

“If ye, don’ mind my askin’, which end is the wrong one, Miss?” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Jest so I don’ catch myself on the wrong end o’ it, ye know?”

“You’ll know it when you feel it. And if first impressions are to be believed, I suspect you’ll feel it often enough.”

“It’s a magic stick,” Jereb noted.

Perfidy laughed. Loudly. She even snorted a bit, as though channeling the spirit of the pigs they’d discussed before. When no one joined in, she stopped and said, “Oh, ye were serious?”

The woman glared at her, while Jereb gave her a look that made her wonder whether she had snot coming out of her nose or something. “What was that unruly racket, girl?”