Morgan frowned. How was it a man could be so handsome when he was unconscious, yet not so handsome when he was awake?
Perhaps she had hit him harder than she'd intended. He spent a good deal of his time wincing, as if his head truly pained him. If that was the case, perhaps he could be forgiven his bad manners.
Then again, truth be told she wouldn't have offered to help Paien with supper either. He was a much better cook than she and she repaid him for his efforts by always taking the first watch so he could savor the last bites of his meal in peace. Morgan let Paien cobble together a passable supper and avoided looking at Adhémar. It was likely the sanest thing to do. Bere was close and perhaps she would make very good time on the morrow. Perhaps Adhémar would go his way at dawn and no longer be of concern to her.
She suspected that would be a very good turn of events.
Two days later Morgan followed Paien through the congested streets of the port of Bere, not enjoying the crowds in the least.
Too many people jostling her, too many smells distracting her, too much noise making it difficult for her to concentrate.
She looked behind her briefly to see how Adhémar was managing.
He still seemed to be following them, and she wasn't all that pleased about it. His face was beautiful, but every time he opened his mouth, she wanted to clunk him over the head again with her sword.
She and Paien had passed their brief journey to Bere in companionable silence, reliving past escapades, and reveling in past triumphs?of which there were many. Adhémar had offered more than his share of impossible tales of battle, simply saturated with delusions of grandeur. He seemed to think he'd had men at his command, then remembered in the midst of a glorious tale that he'd had none but himself.
Perhaps that bump on his head had done more damage than he cared to admit.
Running into Paien's back startled her from her thoughts. She opened her mouth to curse him, then peered around him.
There, before her, bobbing quite innocently in the water, was a ship.
She stared at it, openmouthed. She hadn't realized they were so close to the water.
"What a beauty," Paien said admiringly.
Morgan decided it might be best to refrain from comment.
"Morgan!" came a call from nearby. "Paien!"
"Ah, look who's come," Paien said. "Friendly faces, indeed."
Morgan pursed her lips. It was becoming a reunion of sorts; before her now stood the other mercenary companions she'd left behind. Apparently their business had been concluded successfully, for the seemed to be quite happy to be in Bere instead of camped out in a muddy field.
Glines of Balfour came to halt in front of her, bowed low, then straightened and smiled. He was a tall, fair-haired man who wore thirty winters on his shoulders and many pouches on his belt filled with gold he'd won from souls with lesser skill at dice than he. Glines was the youngest son of a minor lord who reportedly had a bastard elf lurking somewhere amongst his progenitors. Whether that was true or not, she couldn't have said. What she did know was that Glines vanquished his foes with elegance and a bit of distaste, as if he would have preferred to be discussing politics at dinner.
Next to him stood a red-haired dwarf, short in stature and sharp in feature, who fought with less elegance than Glines but quite a bit more enjoyment. Camid of Carr had traveled the Nine Kingdoms extensively, hiring out to the highest bidder and forever seeking to improve his resume of escapades in order to impress potential employers.
"Who are these?" Adhémar asked.
Morgan introduced them all briskly. She would have said more, but Glines was staring at Adhémar as if he'd just seen a ghost. She could have sworn he started to bow, but Adhémar reached out and clutched him by the shoulder. Perhaps Glines had been preparing to swoon at the sight of Adhémar's admittedly very fine boots. She couldn't credit him with being impressed by Adhémar's face.
"Glines," she warned, "Adhémar has little left in his purse. Find some other mark for your afternoon's entertainment."
Adhémar glared at her. "How would you?aha! I wondered where my gold had gone." He drew himself up. "No matter. I will win more anyway. I am quite skilled in cards. Indeed, it might be said that there is not a better player in all of Neroche?"
Morgan didn't bother to comment. Far be it from her to bruise his ego along with his head. If he wanted to endow himself with qualities that were likely not his own, he was free to do so. That didn't mean she had to listen, though.
"Boast elsewhere," she said shortly. "Indeed, I'm certain you have other business to see to?out of earshot, hopefully. Don't you?"
Adhémar pursed his lips. "I didn't find what I was looking for on the island. I will begin again in Istaur. "
"Is that where you're off to, gel?" Camid asked her.
"That is what we heard," Glines agreed, still looking at Adhémar with wide eyes. "When word was sent for us to meet you here."
"Word was sent?" she echoed. "By whom?"
