"Aye. I was there from my twelfth summer until I turned ten-and-nine."
"Was the scholar's life not for you?"
"What, scribbling, scratching, reading, and nothing else? Nay," she said, shaking her head, "it was too tedious a life for me. I love a good tale by the fireside as well as the next soul, but I would prefer my days to be full of activity and purpose."
"I can believe that. So, you left Lismòr at ten-and-nine. Did you begin your mercenary endeavors then, or… ?" He looked at her questioningly.
She looked at him, clear-eyed and unconcerned. "I chose 'or.' "
He waited.
She only stared back at him, perfectly comfortable in her silence and apparently waiting for him to squirm first.
He did, finally, and laughed in appreciation of her technique. It was something he used quite often as well, his favorite way to make nosy souls regret their prying questions. "Very well, I understand. You've no mind to divulge any of your secrets."
"I've divulged an appalling number of my secrets to you already," she grumbled, "and I'm not sure why. You remind me a little of Lord Nicholas."
A compliment. Miach decided that he would happily trade that for any more of her secrets. "Thank you."
"You're comfortable," she mused, tilting her head to look at him.
"Indeed," he said, feeling more pleased than he should have, no doubt.
"Much like a favorite pair of boots."
He blinked. "Boots?"
"Boots," she agreed placidly, then turned back to her daggers.
Miach couldn't credit her with teasing?he had never seen her anything but straightforward and painfully blunt?so he had to assume that she spoke the truth.
Boots were better than the dung on the bottom of them, perhaps.
"How did you meet your companions." he asked, casting about for another subject. "You seem to be quite loyal to each other."
"Aye, we are," she said.
"Have you traveled together long?"
"A pair of years," she said. "Fletcher is a more recent acquisition."
"And Adhémar?"
"He follows us like a bad smell," she said without hesitation. "I would rid myself of him, but he seems determined to follow along." She frowned thoughtfully. "Perhaps I shouldn't have said that, him being your kin and all."
"I am not blind to his faults."
"I don't know how you could be. "
Miach laughed and wondered to himself if she was this cheeky with Adhémar. He suspected she was and the thought of it amused him greatly.
"I will admit, though it pains me to do this," she said slowly, "that he is quite a showy, attractive sort of man." She paused and looked at him. "Don't you think?"
What he thought wasn't fit to say. He cleared his throat. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged helplessly. "I can hardly believe I'm saying this, but when I first saw him, I thought him terribly handsome. I could not bring myself to look away. He was a bit like a bright sword that you cannot resist. Like a handful of gems that blind you with their beauty."
Like a shovelful of dung you find suddenly tossed upon your boots, Miach thought sourly. Boots. He should have known it would end there.
