"Does it, indeed?"
"It does," she said. "I did not ask for this and I have no idea what it means for me, but you are fortunate not to bear the burden. Stick to farming," she advised, "and be grateful you have so little magic."
"I daresay I should be," he said, handing the knife back to her.
She wrapped the blade back up and put it back it in the bottom of her pack. She paused and looked at the ring sitting on the table. "I wonder whose this is."
"It seems to match the knife," Miach said.
"Aye, you're right," she said, dropping it into her pack. She packed up the rest of her gear, then set her pack beside her.
"Morgan?" Miach said suddenly.
She looked at him. "Aye?"
"Why did Lord Nicholas give you that blade?"
She started to speak, then hesitated. It was one thing to show him a knife and wonder if his apparently vast stores of lore might tell her where it had come from; it was another thing entirely to tell him of her plans. Then again, who better to tell than a farmer from the north? He might be able to aid her in finding the castle.
"I will trust you," she said slowly.
He nodded solemnly. "Thank you."
"You will keep my secrets," she stated.
"I will carry them to my grave."
She believed him. There was, she decided, much to like about him. She'd never had much use for farmers before, but that was perhaps that she had only known Melksham farmers and they were generally of a more bickering nature, limiting their conversations to who was due what amount of water and how that water was being filched by their neighbors.
She suspected Miach did not allow his water to be stolen, but that he never had to draw a sword to see to that.
Astonishing.
Morgan took a deep breath. Her announcement seemed to merit it. "I am on a quest," she said.
"I see," he said. "What sort of quest?"
"I am to carry that blade to the king of Neroche."
Miach choked.
Morgan frowned and looked about for drink. There was only a little left in the bottle from the night before, but she gave it to him without hesitation. He seemed to need it far more than she did.
"You have a weak constitution," she said disapprovingly.
"I don't," he gasped. "I just wasn't expecting to hear that."
"Why not?" she asked sharply. "Do you think me unequal to the task?"
"Morgan, I don't think you unequal to anything," he said frankly. "It's just I've never met anyone with that sort of quest before. It isn't something you hear every day."
"I was equally as surprised," she admitted.
He frowned thoughtfully. "I still don't understand why Lord Nicholas had this blade."
"I asked him the same thing, but he told me he had been its keeper for several years and now the time had come for it to go to the king of Neroche. He charged me with the doing of the deed."
"And you said him aye?"
