The clop of hooves stirs my nerves.
Zali swivels on her stump, staring out into the forest as my gaze flicks to our swords leaning against our packs on the other side of the fire. Too far away to reach without causing a scene.
“No need to startle,” a deep, raspy voice calls through the darkness. “Just a friendly traveling merchant looking for a place to spend the night on this lonely forest trail.”
The clops grow louder, and I see a bobbing light, its intensity growing until a white horse comes into view through the window between two stones. A man leaps off the side of the well-packed saddle dressed in a red merchant’s robe, the thick trim around his hood storm-cloud gray.
Shulák.
My heart jumps a beat, my hand threading down the side of my boot.
To my small, concealable dagger.
“They’re not all the same, Baze. You know that,” Zali whisper-hisses. “Let me do the talking. Do you understand? You’remute.”
The man untacks his horse, lifting his saddlebags off its back before he tethers it to the tree beside Ale.
My hand tightens around my dagger, a savage fury popping through my veins.
“Do. You. Understand?”
My gaze whips to Zali, and I flash her a smile that’s all teeth. “Clear as crystal.”
Frowning, her eyes drop to my hand still pinching the hilt to my dagger.
I relax my hold, straighten my spine, and flick my hood up as I fold my arms and narrow my stare on the bubbling pot of stew.
The brutish man eases between two stones, walking with a stiffness that suggests he hasn’t climbed off his mount all day, his robe swishing around him as he moves closer to the flames. His face is a little strained around the eyes, jaw covered in a thick, black beard. He flips his hood, and I wince at the sight of his bald head—at the mark on his forehead.
He laughs low, face beaming as he takes in our boiling meal. “That, my friends, smells delightful.” He spreads his arms wide, looking between us both. “Do you mind sharing this whelve with a lonely merchant on a crisp night?”
Do you mind fucking bowing for the Eastern High Mistress?
Maybe he doesn’t recognize her. Even so, I twist further around, look him up and down, then lift a brow at Zali. She seems to purposely avoid my stare.
“Of course,” she chirps, offering him a small smile, furs still wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
The man looks at me and I give him a wink.
“He’s mute,” Zali offers, swifter than she strikes a blade.
“Ahh.” He nods knowingly. “Hardly surprising with this world we live in. See some horrors on the road these days.” He looks to Zali again, gesturing to the spot between me and her. “May I?”
At her nod, the man sits, warming his hands near the flames.
“Mind me asking where you’re headed?” she asks, reaching to stir the stew.
“I’m just traveling from village to village, spreading the words of the stones and selling my wares.” He rubs his hands together, then reaches into the folds of his cloak, revealing a leather pouch he digs through. “Saje?” he asks, brows raised as he stuffs a pipe full of the dried buds I haven’t tasted in years. Part of a bygone era I stumbled through blindly on a cloud of lapsed judgment before replacing one vice with another.
“I have this spare pipe you can have for half price in exchange for sharing your stew? I haven’t had meat in over a week,” he says, tamping more of the saje into his pipe. “Not the best hunter, you see.”
He extends it in my direction, and I waver, half tempted to accept before Zali butts in.
“He doesn’t smoke,” she says, hooking my stare with a narrowed one of her own, and I raise a single brow. “Gives him the shits. I’m the one who has to travel with him.”
I bite down on a few choice words I’dloveto throw at her.
“Fair enough,” the merchant chuckles, rolling his eyes at me.
