The Sorcerer's Widow. Lawrence Watt-Evans

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СКАЧАТЬ a less tempting target for bandits than if we were two women alone. Not that there are a lot of bandits around here, but we’ve heard that a few have been seen in recent years.” She grimaced. “Besides, she felt we owed it to you. I’m told that it was your idea for me to come, and Dorna wouldn’t have asked me if you hadn’t suggested it. She had originally planned to make the trip alone.”

      “By herself? That would be dangerous.”

      “Maybe,” Irien said.

      Half an hour later, Kel asked, “How did you become an innkeeper?”

      Irien’s answer took several minutes, and led to a long explanation of her family history—the short version was that she had inherited the place from her father’s childhood friend. Kel kept encouraging her to continue adding details; Ezak always said that it was smart to let the other person talk. Not only might you learn something useful, but it would make them like you more, since people like talking about themselves and appreciate a good listener.

      Also, if Irien was talking, Kel wasn’t, and he wouldn’t need to worry about saying anything he shouldn’t. If she was talking about herself, she wouldn’t be asking any awkward questions about Kel or Ezak.

      Finally, the little caravan stopped for a rest and a meal, and as they stretched their legs Kel had a chance to talk to Ezak out of earshot of the two women.

      “They don’t trust us,” he whispered.

      “Oh? What makes you think that?”

      “Because Irien told me they don’t.”

      Ezak frowned. “Did she?”

      “Yes. That’s why they didn’t ride together, so each one could keep an eye on one of us. They were worried that if we had one wagon to ourselves we might just drive off with it.”

      “That wasn’t what Dorna said. She told me that she wanted to get to know me, since I’d known her husband long ago.”

      Kel had no answer for that.

      “She asked me about my apprenticeship with Jabajag the Magnificent. She said Nabal never talked about him, so she was curious.”

      Kel blinked, then asked, “What sort of name is Jabajag?”

      Ezak turned up a palm. “Who knows? A sorcerer’s name, I suppose. At any rate, I talked myself hoarse, telling her stories about her husband’s master, and about my career as a sorcerer in Ethshar, and about my family.”

      Kel chewed his lower lip apprehensively.

      “Oh, don’t look so worried, Kel!” Ezak said, slapping him on the back. “She believed every word, I’m sure! Not a bit of it was true, but she believed it all!”

      “I hope so,” Kel murmured.

      “What did you tell the innkeeper? We want to keep our stories straight.”

      “Nothing,” Kel said. “I let her do all the talking. I asked her how she became an innkeeper.”

      “Ah, excellent! Surprisingly clever of you, Kel!”

      “You said that was smart. You said it was better to listen than to talk.”

      “That’s right, I did, didn’t I?” He laughed. “And very fine advice it was! Did you learn anything useful?”

      “I don’t know,” Kel said. “Did you?”

      Ezak’s laughter stopped, and his frown reappeared. “No,” he said. “She kept asking me questions, so I was too busy answering them to ask any of my own.”

      “Oh,” Kel said.

      “She might have become suspicious if I didn’t answer.”

      “Oh,” Kel said again.

      For a moment both men were silent. Then Ezak said, “If they really don’t trust us, then perhaps we should act swiftly, before they’re ready.”

      “I don’t understand.”

      “Well, they know we’re from Ethshar, right? So they probably expect us to steal the big wagon once we’re near the city, or even inside the walls. But if we were to steal it tonight, while they’re asleep, when we’re still days away from the city, they wouldn’t be expecting it, and we could get a good start on them.”

      Kel considered this unhappily. “Maybe we shouldn’t steal the wagon at all,” he said.

      Ezak started to wave this idea away, then stopped. “Hmmm,” he said. “You know, we don’t care about the wagon at all. We just want the magic. What if, while they’re sleeping, we replace some of the talismans with worthless junk? We can hide the sorcery somewhere, then come back for it later.”

      That had not been what Kel meant, but he did not want to argue. Besides, Dorna had so many of those magical things; she could spare a few.

      “Hai!” Irien called, interrupting their quiet conversation. “Are you two ready to go?”

      “Just a moment!” Ezak called back. Then he leaned over and whispered to Kel, “You be ready tonight—don’t go to sleep. Pretend if you have to.”

      “All right,” Kel answered uncertainly.

      “Excellent! Then let us be off!” He stood up and strode back toward the wagons.

      Kel followed, and in moments they were back on the wagons, heading south. This time, though, Dorna suggested a change of partners, and Kel found himself riding in the larger second wagon with Dorna, while Ezak and Irien took the lead in the smaller wagon.

      “So,” Dorna said, once they were rolling, “tell me about yourself, Kelder of Ethshar.”

      Kel hesitated, then said, “There isn’t much to tell.”

      “Oh, there must be. You’re from Ethshar of the Sands?”

      “Yes.”

      “From Morningside?”

      Kel blinked in surprise. Morningside was one of the wealthiest districts, and although the tunic he wore had been a good one when it was new, he had thought its shabby, worn condition, along with his lack of a hat or other accessories, would make it clear that he was not rich. “No,” he said.

      “Where, then?”

      “Smallgate.” Desperate to change the subject before he gave anything away, he added, “Are you from that village?” He gestured back over his shoulder.

      “Me? No.”

      “Where are you from, then?”

      “Oh, another village.”

      “What village? What was its name?”

      “We called it Gaffrir.”

      “Is that a Northern name?”

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