In the new darkness, she searched more with her senses than with her eyes. Her teeth began to chatter, but she trudged on. She told herself she would slip right back in through the window when she was done, and she would be safe in her warm bed before Àed even knew she was missing. On the other hand, if she couldn't get in she was bound to freeze. If she couldn't get in . . . she pushed the thought away as her toes found a rough patch of dry grass. She crouched to touch her fingertips to the soil. It wasn't the best area, but it would do.
Finn lowered herself to sit cross-legged, then tried to recall how it felt to be a tree. She attempted to push through that very human barrier in her mind that was now always there to block her way. The chilly air pervaded her thoughts as her human body's discomfort drowned out everything else.
“What're you doing out here all by yourself?” an oily, lilting voice questioned from her left.
Startled, Finn looked around cautiously for the source of the voice. Her eyes settled on a nearby shape, hiding deeper in the shadows. She rose slowly to her feet, hugging her cloak around her, partially to stay warm, but partially to hide the fact that she was only wearing her underpinnings beneath.
“It is not safe for young ladies to be about late at night,” the voice chided.
“I was just preparing to return to my room,” Finn replied as she backed away.
“Not so fast,” the voice replied, quickly closing the distance. The stableman's face was briefly illuminated by moonlight as he neared her, but soon plunged back into shadow.
Finn reached numbed fingers down her side to her dagger. “I would not come any closer, if I were you,” she threatened, though her insides felt like pottage.
The man edged closer, obviously not put off by her threat. A pockmarked face came more clearly into view, topped by slick black hair. Though lanky, the man was well muscled from his work, and likely outweighed Finn by a good forty pounds.
“That's a fine cloak you have there,” the man commented. “I'd venture it might catch a good deal of coin. I'd venture to say you've got the coin itself as well.” He took another step.
“I am but a poor traveler,” she replied, trying hard to keep her voice from trembling. “Now you'd best be on your way before I report you to the guard.”
The man spat into the dirt, then chuckled softly. It was a dry rasping sound, hardly a laugh at all. “The guards don't patrol these streets anymore. They'll all be pacing around outside Gwrtheryn's estate. The Alderman of our fair burgh is afraid of shapes in the night. Ain't no one worrying about my shape, or yours.”
“Well then your employer,” she countered. “I'm sure he would not be pleased to hear that you robbed one of his guests.”
The man took a step closer, bringing with him the smell of too much wine. “I don't think you'll be saying much.”
Finn's thoughts raced at the implied threat. She had assumed that within the burgh there would be some measure of law. It was in the Alderman's best interest to protect the burgh, wasn't it? Finn shook her head at her foolishness.
The stableman eyed her askance. “You having conversations in that pretty little head of yours?” he asked as he closed the final gap between them, reaching out to twist the ends of Finn's long hair around his fingertips.
Finn took another step back, pulling her hair out of the man's grip. The stableman followed. A flicker of movement caught Finn's attention, drawing her eyes to a second shape that loomed in the darkness behind the stableman. Her gaze turned fully to the shape in surprise, causing the stableman to turn and see what had caught her attention. Finn took the opportunity to get a better grip on her dagger, hidden in the folds of her cloak.
The stableman turned back to her, the dark shape having disappeared. “You playing games with me girl?” he asked harshly.
Finn began to raise her dagger from her cloak just as the dark shape came back into view out of the shadows. She recognized the man's face instantly. It was the sibling's hired sword, the thief, as Àed would have her believe. His short sword was partially out of its belt sheathe, his hand resting on the pommel casually.
The sellsword chuckled quietly. “I would step away from the girl, if I were you,” he told the stableman calmly.
The stableman froze as he realized a new threat had approached, then turned his body partially toward the sellsword. Finn watched the stableman's expression change as he weighed his odds against the tall, armed man. “I want no trouble from you,” he replied hesitantly.
The sellsword laughed again to himself. “I am not the most immediate danger in your life at the moment.” He gestured with a nod at Finn.
She held her dagger steadily at the stableman's throat, her eyes focused on the tip of her blade as the man moved. He had meant to turn his attention back to Finn, but in doing so he pushed the soft skin of his throat against the dagger's tip. Finn watched in shock as a small bead of blood formed along the edge of the knife. Caught up in surprise at her own actions, she did not see as the stableman's eyes widened in shock.
“I suppose I'll be off then,” he whispered, the slight quiver in his voice giving away his discomfort.
“Will you?” Finn asked, then continued, “I think you'll be off when I tell you to be off.”
The man gave her the barest of nods, smearing the small amount of blood across his throat. By the gods she was freezing. What was she doing, keeping the man there?
“I wasn't really going to hurt you,” he pleaded. “I was just having a bit of fun.”
The stale wine on the man's breath made Finn crinkle her nose in distaste. She was grateful as the sellsword confidently walked up behind the man with his blade unsheathed. Finn thought for a moment he might slit the stableman's throat, but instead he knocked the man on the back of his head with the pommel, too quick for the stableman to react. Finn had to retract her dagger to avoid slitting the man's throat herself.
She could hear slightly labored breathing, and she realized with a start that it was her own. The entire sequence of events had happened so quickly. As her adrenaline subsided, the cold swept back in, and she began to tremble. At least, she told herself it was from the cold. She looked up at the man left standing, wondering his intent. He had helped her, but she kept her dagger out none-the-less.
The man re-sheathed his sword, then let his black cloak fall back over the weapon. “The stableman had a good question,” he said.
Finn lifted her head defiantly. “And what, praytell, was that?”
The man raised a dark eyebrow at her, or so it appeared in the dim lighting. “The question of what you are doing out here on your own.”
Finn snorted. “And I could have asked the two of you the same.”
The man laughed, though Finn was not sure what was funny. “I heard someone stumbling about outside of the inn, and decided to investigate.”
Finn raised her nose proudly into the air. “I was not stumbling. I was simply taking an evening walk, as is my right.”
The man shrugged. “If that is what you say.” He held out a hand toward her.
Finn took a step back. “Would you try and assault me now as well?” she asked, affronted.
The man gave her a small smile and retracted his hand. “I was going to offer you a hand back into the inn, seeing as you've decided to take your nighttime walk without shoes.”
Finn was glad that the darkness hid her blush. “I can walk on my own, thank you.”
The man nodded his assent. “Well, are you prepared to go back inside then? I've things to do, and I would not feel right leaving you out in the cold.”
Finn wanted to argue, but her teeth had begun to chatter again. She nodded and turned to go back to her window.
“If you don't want to go through that window again,” the man said good-naturedly, “you could always use the back door.”
Finn sniffed and began walking toward the back of the inn, as if she had always intended to go that way. The man followed a short distance behind her like a rather tall shadow.
She found the door, but turned to face the sellsword once more before going through. “You were watching me all of that time, and yet you offered no aid until that man was upon me.”
He raised an eyebrow at her again. “Yes, I could have helped you sooner, but my lady, you did not appear to need the aid.”
Maintaining eye contact, the man reached around her, a little too close. Finn opened her mouth to speak, once again unsure of his intent. Then the door swung open behind her, and the man gestured for her to go inside.
She turned and quickly walked in, reveling in the warmth. The bar that was meant to hold the door shut was leaning against the inner wall.
The man still stood out in the cold. “Are you not coming?” Finn asked.
The man smiled. “In time.”
Finn sighed loudly. “Tell me your name, at least.”
“Iseult,” he replied.
Finn forced a smile. “I am Finn. Goodnight.”
Sighing with relief that she would live another day, she shut the door firmly behind her.
Chapter Five
Finn, short for Finnur. She had confirmed it. Iseult did one final circle around the inn as he went over every word she had said to him, looking for any evidence to further confirm his suspicions, though he was unsure of what he hoped to find. He had lied when he told her that he'd come outside to investigate the stumbling footsteps. It was merely a coincidence. He was as much a denizen of the night as any sword-for-hire, but that was not why he had ventured out. Finn had been on his mind since he'd first seen her in the common room. There was pressure in the air like a storm was coming, and storms always made Iseult uneasy. Growing up on the sea would do that to a man.
As a child, Iseult lived in a very different world. Or perhaps, he conceded, it was only his perspective that had changed, and not the world itself. Iseult hailed from a clan all but extinct in the present day, as far as he knew. There were very few left when he was a boy, and after his mother passed, he lost touch with his remaining kin. No, the clan of Uí Néid was gone he assured himself, but he still remembered the histories.
His mother had been very fond of the histories, and had shown him many books that she'd rescued from their homeland. The books were long since lost to him, usurped by the archives most likely, but he remembered them nearly word for word.
That was how he knew Finn. He had seen a portrait of her in the records of his clan . . . but that was impossible. She would be over a hundred years old. She didn't look a day over twenty-two. Perhaps she had been named after an ancestor, one that looked startlingly similar to her. Perhaps not. Either way, he had to know. He could not pass up an opportunity to know what his people had died for, and to right their wrongs if at all possible.
Iseult shook his head as he came back upon the still-unconscious stableman, but his thoughts were elsewhere. She didn't look a day over twenty-two, but he knew it was her. It had to be her.
Finn was back in her warm room before she paused to consider Iseult. There was something about that man that she did not like. She felt as if he hid a great deal. The shadows of night suited him. Luckily he was staying out in his shadows, and likely would not be up early to leave the inn. Given that Àed would most definitely have them up and on the road at first light, they could probably slip away before the man even woke. Finn curled up on her bed and closed her eyes, thoughts swirling. She did not think she would be able to sleep, but she was wrong.
When Finn woke, Àed was already heating water over the fire in a small, metal pot. Sensing her alertness, he stood and poured the water into the basin and turned to her. “I figured ye'd like some hot water to wash with this morning,” he explained.
Finn nodded appreciatively as she sat up. The room was much warmer than it had been the previous night, and she was grateful for that fact as she climbed out of her scratchy blankets. “We'll leave as soon as we're clean?” she asked anxiously.
Àed grunted. “It'll take ye awhile to get yerself clean I imagine, given that ye were rollin around in the dirt again last night.”
Finn blushed. “I couldn't sleep. It feels strange to be in a new place.”
The lines softened on Àed's face as he chuckled. “Figured as much. We'll clean up then fetch some breakfast. Then we'll be on our way. There's no rush, as we'll be campin tonight no matter how far we get. Felgram is a full three days walk from here, perhaps four.”
Finn nodded and rose to clean herself. She looked forward to sleeping outside, and wanted to get out of the inn as soon as possible. She did not believe that Iseult would give them any trouble, but she'd just as soon not have another encounter with him. She would only feel safe again once she and Àed had left Garenoch far behind them.
Finn did her best to scrub the dirt from her hands and feet with the warm water, then sat to run the wooden comb Àed had given her through her waist-length hair, which seemed to become matted and snarled after every night's rest. Seeing her frustration, Àed approached and took the comb from her, helped her to remove the rest of her tangles, then deftly wove her hair into a thick braid, securing the end with a piece of twine he pulled from his satchel.
When Finn gazed up at him, mildly amazed, he shrugged. “I did me daughter's braids for many years,” he explained gruffly, then went to shove his few belongings back into their knapsacks.
Finn watched her companion, wishing she could know more about his daughter, but knowing it was not her place to ask. Shaking her head sadly, she donned her too big clothing and made peace with the fact that wearing the hand-me-down dress was likely the closest she would ever come to Àed's lost little girl.
As Àed finished packing his things, Finn went to wait by the door. She wore her cloak securely fastened with her knapsack over her shoulder so that she would be ready to leave quickly if need be. She wasn't sure what she was worried about, and figured that her human instincts were likely playing tricks on her. Still, she would feel rather foolish if she ignored her unease, and ended up in a bad situation because of it. Plus, she would not risk Àed falling into trouble. She knew the old man had come to protect her, but she felt the unsettling need to protect him as well.
They left their room and descended the stairs to find the common room much more full than it had been the previous night. It seemed that everyone rose with the sun in Garenoch, from farmers and travelers, to wealthy merchants and other noble sorts. To Finn's dismay, she spotted Iseult and the rest of his company, already seated and drinking hot tea. In addition to the twins, two more had joined them, a man and a woman.
The woman held her nose up high, gazing around the room but not really focusing on anything. She had very pale skin that showed a light burn on her nose and cheeks, giving away that she had been seeing more sun than she was accustomed to. Her hair was dark, and done up in a complex series of braids that came together to fall over her shoulder. The man beside her was a little more used to the sun, as was evident by his deep tan. Wavy, deep chestnut brown hair that fell just above his shoulders was left unfettered, while most of the other men in the room wore their hair back in leather clasps. The man's golden brown eyes followed the serving maids around the room good-naturedly, if not without a touch of mischief.
Not paying the group any mind, Àed seated himself at a table near the back of the room with a few other travelers. There were no entirely free tables, and many patrons sat with others who were obviously not their companions. At one table, two farm hands sat with women in velvets, and at another a man with a billowing white shirt and a swatch of cloth knotted around the top of his head sat with three quiet men in black.
Finn followed Àed's lead and sat beside him, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone in the room. She leaned in close to the old man's shoulder and whispered, “Why are there so many people here this morning?”
Àed cast a furtive glance around the bustling room. “Likely all the talk of Pooks and other Faie,” he replied. “Folk start seeing those things in the countryside, and they're all bound to migrate
to the nearest burgh. In addition, Garenoch resides along a trade road. Many travelers pass through.”
Finn nodded. She supposed it was good that there were so many outsiders in the burgh. Travelers would not be a rare sight, and they would likely not be bothered much along their way. She lost herself in thought, picturing where they might end up next. Because of this, she did not notice as the red haired man rose from his table and came to sit on the opposite side of Àed, until it was too late to flee.
The old man turned to the younger one with an expectant sigh, and a less than friendly look on his aged face.
The red haired man did not seem put off in the least. In fact, his face was lit up with excitement. “Forgive me the intrusion,” he began, speaking mainly to Àed, though he did spare a nod in Finn's direction. “My name is Anders Cattenach. I'm a historian of sorts, and I just realized how I know your face.”
“I ain't nobody to take notice of,” Àed grumbled, waving him off.
“Oh but you are,” the man persisted, his honey-brown eyes staring intently. “You're Àed Deasmhumhain. Àed the Mountebank.”
Àed kept his eyes on the table. “I've no idea what yer talkin about.”
Not daunted in the least, the red-haired man went on. “Where have you been all of these years? Most have believed you dead.”
“I am no mountebank!” Àed growled, drawing attention from their fellow diners. He turned away from Anders, dismissing him.
“I meant no offense,” Anders said hurriedly, though he was speaking to Àed's back. “I only wanted to speak with you, to have a unique viewpoint into the more recent histories. I'm sure you have a great deal of knowledge to share.”
Àed grunted again, then slowly turned back to glare at Anders. “And what do ye be offerin in return, lad?” he asked almost menacingly.
Anders grew excited once more. “If you would travel with us, at least for a short way, we would provide you with horses, food, rooms. Anything you need along the way. We have a swordsman traveling with us, so we can offer you a measure of protection as well.”
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