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The blond held out a hand across the table to Ellery. “We haven’t been properly introduced, but I’m Jamys Bligh. Ruan’s younger brother. Morgan’s older.”
His grip was firm, the palm callused. Despite the trappings of wealth, the Blighs worked hard for their money. “Conor’s filled me in on the Keun Marow’s attack. You two are lucky to be alive.”
Conor slammed his fist on the table. “Is anyone listening? Have you noticed the instability of the wards before?”
Morgan finished chewing her bacon. “No. I rode the boundaries yesterday, and the wards were strong.”
Jamys picked at his breakfast, concentration furrowing his brow. “There’s no explanation for the fluidity in the stones’ power. I’ve never felt such a surge and ebb in the mage energy as I did this morning. At times it was overwhelming. At others a mere fraction of the strength needed.”
“Asher?” Ruan asked.
“Perhaps,” Conor said, but his eyes sought Ellery out, settled on her with a long curious look.
Her pulse skittered, and a throbbing started deep in her body. God, was she so weak that he had only to look at her to send her temperature rising? He was a killer. He’d killed her father. Killed the men with him. She repeated it to herself over and over. But last night’s battle with Asher kept superimposing itself over her anger. He’d saved her. Didn’t that count for something?
“I’ve encountered its like before. On the road,” Conor said.
“Then again last night.”
“Asher’s followed you here? To Daggerfell?” Ruan sounded ready for a fight.
The others began to speak. The voices piling on top of one another like dominoes. Layer upon layer of questions and answers until Ellery lost the thread of conversation. Found she didn’t care. Conor’s stare pinned her like a butterfly under glass. She wanted to squirm. Wanted to look away. Wanted to run from the room.
“No,” Conor whispered. Or was it only in her head? “No. I think I’ve brought this problem with me through the front door.”
Ellery leaned over the top board of the loose box, watching the old groom poultice the bay, his hands deftly swathing the horse’s ankle in wrap.
“Comfrey’s what does it,” Jock said, tying off the end and sitting back to admire his handiwork. He lifted a patch over his left eye, wiped his face with a swipe of his sleeve before dropping the patch back into place. “Draws the heat from the bruise, that’s what.”
The horse swung its neck around, nudged Ellery’s hands, snuffling its interest. Searching for treats. She rubbed its nose, blew into its nostrils to show she meant no harm. “I saw locals in Spain use manure. They’d bind the leg with a cloth of sheep or cow dung. Swore it never failed to work.”
“Saw that myself a time or two. A foolish bunch of nonsense.” Jock snorted his contempt, but eyed her with interest.
“What in the world were ye doin’ in that devil of a place?”
“My father served.”
“Did he now?” was his only comment. Ellery relaxed when he didn’t seek any more information than that. Instead, he stood, patting the horse on its rump. Rummaged in his pocket for a crooked, brown carrot. “I served in the 95th ’til a musket ball blinded me on the left. Not much of a rifleman without two good eyes.” He offered her an almost toothless grin.
“Did you grow up here?” she asked.
“With a name like Jock Fraser? Not likely. I’m from up north. Aberdeen. Haven’t been back since I was a lad. Arrived here in ’09 after Coruna. Capt’n Bligh brought me back here with him.”
“Ruan Bligh?”
“Master Ruan? No, you’d not catch him on a battlefield. His heart’s with the sea. ’Twas Master Conor invited me to stay.”
Ellery’s hands clenched the partition. The horse shifted and backed away nervously. “Conor was at Coruna?” She should have known. He’d told her he served.
An odd nervous feeling quivered through her, thinking she had been so close to him once. She squashed it. She didn’t want to feel anything for Conor Bligh.
“Aye. Ragged as a beggar like the lot of us. Strolled into the barn where the injured had been billeted. An hour later, he’d done his best for more than half a dozen of the worst there. Me among ’em.” Jock shook his head. “Damned if I’d ever seen the
like.” He took out a handkerchief, wiped his hands and stuffed it back into his apron. “That’ll do the old thing,” he said of the horse. “I’ll check on him in a few hours.” He left the box, giving the bay a rub on his muzzle as he passed.
“But what happened then?” Ellery asked.
Jock shrugged. “He left right after. Never said a word. But I knew he’d done somethin’ special. My old aunty had told me of eldritch healers who could save with a touch. I found the captain later. Outside a gin shop. He looked bad as I felt. I stuck with him ’til he recovered. Never left his side after that.”
