He offered her a roll and a cold piece of roasted chicken. “I confess, I filched it off the table last night, when I saw the guests had taken their fill. I thought of you. Probably you ate your usual barley porridge without complaint.”

“Ah, but it was sweetened with berries, so I was content.” She smiled as she accepted the food. “My thanks. You are kind.”

With a humorous waggle of his eyebrows he said, “I ate my fill from the archon’s table last night so I can afford to be kind. Try the roll. It’s sweet.”

She took one bite, then ate the rest too quickly. The meltingly soft white bread had a honey-spun flavor, more like festival food than everyday supper food. Maybe the archon, like the intendant, ate this sort of bread every day. She’d never been invited to eat at an archon’s table, not in her ten years walking this route. Then again, she’d never eaten at the intendant’s table either, although she had tasted delicacies from his kitchen.

“This is delicious.”

“Did I see your nephew in warden’s garb, seated with the prince’s retinue?”

She sighed. “You did. Maybe we’ll have time to talk when I come back this way.”

“I can see there’s a story there, but I suppose you must be careful, since you know what a gossip I am.”

She laughed. He was very much a gossip, a mouth running over even as kind as he was. Yet it was part of his existence as custodian, serving as a go-between for people in the village when such services were needed.

“Oh, a bit of news,” he said. “I asked around last night. There was a messenger who came through, but the youth halted only long enough for a fresh sack of provisions. One of the palace runners, trained for long journeys, not like our local youths, who never run more than a half-day’s distance.”

“My thanks. Next time we meet, I’ll owe you gossip in exchange.” She offered a courteous hand to heart in farewell.

After settling her pack on her back, she made her way to the moat. Just as she reached the bridge, the sentries on duty opened the inner gate to allow a young runner out, one of the local youths. The runner jogged across the bridge and onto the main path as the eastern sky lightened. The sentries, Adlin and Ferso, greeted her. Elen took care to become acquainted with all the local sentinels and custodians along her accustomed route. Anyway, she liked most of them.

She gestured as the youth vanished beyond the outer ring of fields, moving at the relaxed lope that local message-runners could keep up for half a morning. “What news is going out with the runner?”