Page 27

“Shall I take away your ale?”

I intend to keep the conversation light, to force the blasted man to continue to smile. But instead my answer is deadly serious.

“I will unlearn what Whitley has taught me. And will not look to a man for answers on how I should behave.”

Amused, he continues to smile. My heart races at the sight.

“A good plan, my lady.”

Aiken raises his mug.

“To life.”

I’ve heard the toast before but cannot think of where. I raise my mug to his own. But just before I echo his words, it comes to me.

Aye, I’ve heard those words before. And they are not words that an Elderman should be uttering.

Tis the toast of the Garra.

13

Aiken

The lady is indeed drunk, or approaching it. And clearly not accustomed to such a state. And perhaps I’ve had one too many ales as well, for the look on her face tells me I’ve made a rare mistake.

“How do you know those words?” she asks, confirming my suspicion.

Putting the mug down and ignoring the meal that is now being placed in front of us, I consider my words carefully.

“I’m surprised you recognize them,” I venture, and am immediately struck down.

“Nay, you will not waylay me. How do you know the words? More importantly, why do you, an Elderman, use them?”

The truth would make it much easier to convince Hilla of my plan.

Though the truth, I’m afraid, would frighten her. Thus far, I’ve told Hilla only part of what I’d learned today. What I neglected to tell her is that the borders are much too dangerous for us to wander near. It seems our pursuers were not the least bit discouraged when we disappeared into this town, in this inn where none who are not recognized can enter, and have indeed redoubled their efforts. We cannot go to Edingham now. Too many men for me to engage with are now camped just a day’s ride from us.

We will ride further, into Meria, instead. But Hilla will not take kindly to the fact.

Treading carefully, I tell her a partial truth.

“Once, in a tavern very much like this one, I met a Garra. A direct descendant of Athea.”

“It cannot be. The original Garra’s descendants have long died out.”

“Nay,” I correct her, “they have not. When she was blamed for the breakup of the Isle, held responsible for the kingdoms being split into two, it became necessary for her and her kin to go into hiding. Admitting to being a descendant of Athea was dangerous.”

“I know all of this,” she says. “My mother had an interest in the Garra.”

Hence, her awareness of the words I used typically associated with them. Many of the Garra’s teachings have made their way into the Isle’s culture, but others, like the Kona, a doll that represents Garra beliefs, or that particular Garra toast, have not.

“So you met a healer once and she told you of that phrase?”

To life. For the Garra, love is at the heart of all their beliefs. The consummation of that love, something to be celebrated. And so, another truth . . .

“I confessed my past to this particular healer, knowing there would be no judgment. We forged a connection because of it.”

Hilla appears thoughtful.