“Well, you did comb my hair, after all.”

She went to the panniers and pulled out a few parcels and jars, then disappeared in the direction of the kitchens.

As he waited for her to return, Seregil considered his situation. Find artifacts and bring the arm ring, Thero had said. Surely he could do a bit more than that.

Kordira returned with a man carrying a tray.

“Just set it here on the grass, please,” she told the man. He put it down at Seregil’s feet and she knelt beside it, heedless of her gown. It was of fine cloth but simply cut, as was the silk scarf around her shoulders, and she wore no jewelry. Her nails were short and stained from her work. And, he had to admit, she was very lovely. There had been a time, under better circumstances, when he’d already have been making plans to seduce such a beauty. He touched his scalp again; he wasn’t at his most attractive.

She noticed. “It won’t do, you getting your head sunburned.” She untied her scarf and fashioned a headdress for him, then took a small silver mirror from her purse and let him look.

The way she’d wrapped it resembled an Aurënfaie sen’gai, covering his head and twisted about the brow, with tails hanging over his left shoulder. “You know how to tie a sen’gai?”

“I’ve seen ’faie wearing them.”

“Slaves?”

“Slaves aren’t allowed to wear them, as you no doubt know. No, free people, traders and the like. I traveled awhile before settling here.”

“What brought you to Kouros?”

“I came to see the oracle’s site and fell in love with the island and the people. And yes, there was slavery, but as I told your friends I hate it as much as any Skalan.”

“Or Aurënfaie?”

“I doubt I can match any ’faie’s hatred of slavery. I would never claim it.”

Seregil gave her a crooked smile. “It’s very kind of you to say so.”

“I know you don’t trust me,” she replied, busying herself with the bowls and cups on the tray. “Your friends don’t, either. It’s quite understandable. I just prefer to have it out in the open.”

“Thank you.”

She lifted a steaming mug from the tray and handed it to him. “This is marrow broth, with brandy, ironwort for strength, and a dash of sticky rush for the pain.” She took a clean cloth from a dish, showing him a helping of cold venison pie and two apples cut in quarters. “Drink the broth and eat as much as you’re able. Can you send someone to commandeer us a small cart? I don’t think you’re in any shape to ride.”

Seregil sipped at the rich broth, then nodded. “I’m sure we can find something. How did you get here?”

“I rode.”

“Alone?”