“Best be moving,” put in the ferryman, glancing up at the clouds, which were darkening even as he spoke. “A wet walk home, I’m guessing.”

Her pride would not allow her to beg, to cling to him, to shed tears. But walking away broke her heart all over again. “I’m not giving up,” she murmured. “I’m stronger than you think.”

What could it be that held him in such fear? This must be far more than she had thought at first. No young man was in such terror of his parents that a night of carousing would leave him unable to return home at all. Surely an apology, a promise to do better in the future and an acceptance of appropriate punishment would be all that was required. The answer must lie in finding out who he really was. Someone must know; someone, surely, must be looking for him. She would find out, even if it meant breaking secrets. She would find out and she would save him.

The little boat made its way across to the shore, every dig of the pole taking her farther from Ash. He stood on the island as she left, his arms wrapped around himself, his face all shadows. It seemed to Lily that she would need hope enough for two.

The rain came as the ferry reached the shore: droplets that soon turned to a steady downpour. Lily stepped out. She could see barely an arm’s length ahead. “There’s no need to walk back with me,” she said, remembering that Ash had, in effect, paid for her to be escorted home. “Thank you for your kindness, ferryman.”

“Kindness, is it? There may come a day when you won’t thank me. But you’re a fine girl, and I hope it won’t happen. Off home with you, then, and may good spirits watch over you.”

“And over him, I hope,” said Lily. “Ash, I mean.”

The wee man offered no reply. With the rain roaring down as if to punish all in its path, Lily turned and sprinted for home.

15

Blackthorn

Geiléis’s household provided Grim and me with good accommodation—a roomy chamber, its stone walls softened with embroidered hangings; two comfortable beds well supplied with woolen blankets; and, best of all, our own small hearth with logs and kindling set by in a basket. Not that we’d have much time to sit by the fire sharing a brew, but it was good to have the means to make one if we felt so inclined. A second door led directly to a yard with a privy and a well. We could hardly have asked for better.

Soon after our arrival, servants brought us a small tub and jugs of hot water for bathing. Geiléis’s retainers were efficient and, for the most part, curiously silent. There was no screen in the chamber. While each of us in turn bathed, the other went out into the yard. Our domestic arrangements were what they were: too complicated to explain to folk who did not know us well. And none of their business anyway. Grim would rig something up for privacy. He was good at these things.