Somehow, Kelder was not particularly surprised when the innkeeper greeted Irith by name. She didn’t intrude on the meal, however; once she had delivered their breakfast she returned to the kitchen and left the travelers in peace.
The only drawback to the meal came at the end, when Kelder, who had offered to pay the bill, discovered that he owed about twice what he had expected. He had made the offer partly because to do so was the traditional male role when courting, and partly because he had seen no sign that Irith had any money. Now, though, he almost regretted it.
“That’s a lot,” he said.
Irith shrugged. “Only a fool sells the best for less,” she quoted. “Besides, prices are always higher along the highway.”
Kelder grimaced, but he paid.
Thus fortified, the two of them continued on their way, strolling onward through the town of Amramion and out into open farm country again. Traffic was heavier now; they encountered an occasional wagon, and entire parties of travelers. One red-dressed woman had a dulcimer slung on her back, and Kelder brightened at this sight — a minstrel, surely, the first he had ever seen.
It was about noon when they passed another isolated guard tower. Irith identified this one as marking the border between Amramion and Yondra, and this time the guard let them pass without comment.
“They’re Amramionic,” Irith explained when Kelder asked why the guard had ignored them. “They monitor the traffic into Amramion, but not out. If it were a Yondran guard he’d have asked us questions, but Yondra doesn’t post guards at the borders.”
They walked on.
Irith seemed tireless, and after a time Kelder found himself trudging wearily along while she scampered ahead, looking at flowers and butterflies. Stones and dust didn’t trouble her at all, even though she was barefoot, and he marveled at that. His feet ached, and his own half-boots, new a sixnight before, were visibly worn, yet she was scampering about like a squirrel, her feet in nothing but her own skin.
Kelder wondered again just who she was — and what she was. Her story about being a wizard’s apprentice made sense enough on the surface, but no matter how he figured it, the times were all wrong. She was only fifteen; how could she possibly have done and seen everything she claimed?
There was a mystery here, and if Kelder was going to fulfill his destiny and marry Irith, he would have to unravel it.
How could a girl younger than himself have traveled so widely? Why was she roaming about by herself, with no family or friends, yet apparently known everywhere she went? How did she keep from tiring? Was that more magic, perhaps?
She was a marvel in many ways, certainly — her wings and her beauty were merely the most obvious. When he brought back to Shulara as his bride, when his family and his friends saw her, that would surely put an end to any teasing about his desire to see more of the World and his belief in Zindre’s predictions. If there were creatures like Irith to be found, then obviously the World was worth seeing.
He was tempted to simply ask her, right now, to turn back and go to Shulara with him and marry him, but he didn’t dare.
For one thing, she would almost certainly say no; while she was friendly enough, he didn’t think she was so carefree, or so fond of him, that she would abandon her own plans — whatever they might be — to accompany him. And surely, she would have more sense than to marry a stranger she had just met. She had no reason to do so save to please him, and she had no reason to care that much about pleasing him.
Better to wait and let their relationship grow naturally.
And he didn’t really want to go back home yet, anyway — not while there were more wonders to be found and the rest of his destiny to find. Great cities, vast plains, strange beasts, more magic — they were all out there, still waiting for him.
And now he had a guide to show him the way. He would never have found the Weary Wanderer and its almost miraculous food without Irith, and she might show him other marvels, as well. He wasn’t sure whether those biscuits qualified as a wonder, but they certainly came close.
So for now he resolved to carry on, to try and impress Irith in any way he could, and to learn whatever he could about the World.
Another hour or so brought them to Yondra Keep, a small, old, vine-grown and weather-battered castle atop a hill, with a quiet little village clustered about its walls. Irith looked up at it, and a faintly worried expression crossed her face.
“Kelder,” she said suddenly, “maybe we should stop here for the night.”
“But it’s scarcely mid-afternoon,” he said, puzzled. “Why stop so early?”
“Well, it’s a good four or five leagues yet to Angarossa Castle, that’s why,” she explained. “We couldn’t possibly get there before dark, or at least you couldn’t, and I don’t want to fly on ahead without you, that wouldn’t be any fun. And Angarossa isn’t... well, there are other places I’d rather be after dark than on the road in Angarossa, let’s just put it that way.”
“Oh,” Kelder said. “Ah... why? Are there dragons or something?”
“Dragons?” Irith asked, startled, turning to stare at him. “On the Great Highway?” she smiled, then giggled. “Oh, Kelder, you’re so silly! No, of course there aren’t any dragons.” Her smile vanished, and she said, quite seriously, “But there are bandits.”
“Oh,” Kelder said again. While the prospect of meeting bandits might have seemed exciting once, right now, footsore as he was, it didn’t have any appeal at all. He looked up at Yondra Keep and its surrounding village. “All right, let’s stop here.”
“Good!” Irith said, clapping her hands gleefully. “I know just the place!”
Chapter Four
The inn was not on the Great Highway itself, but tucked back in a corner of the village, behind a row of houses that was itself behind a row of shops. It was a very small inn, with only four rooms upstairs and one of those occupied by the innkeeper himself, and a dining room that held only a single large table, with seating for a dozen or so.
The food and accommodations were excellent, though. Kelder shuddered to think what the bill would be.
And of course, as he had half-expected, everyone knew Irith by name — not just the innkeeper, but the steward and the scullery boy and the other guests, as well. Irith introduced Kelder to them all. He bowed and nodded politely, quite sure he wouldn’t remember all the names and faces.
The other guests, half a dozen in all, were traveling merchants, which was, when one thought about it, hardly surprising. Kelder sat and listened to them swap stories about remarkable deals they had made; the merchants found this endlessly amusing, but Irith politely excused herself and spent the remainder of the afternoon playing with the kittens in the kitchen, instead.
Kelder thought that Irith had probably made the better choice; half the time he didn’t even know what the merchants were talking about, with their mark-ups and discounts and percentages.
At least everyone along the Great Highway seemed to speak Trader’s Tongue. Kelder had heard other languages spoken, but only in the background; travelers and strangers always seemed to be addressed first in Trader’s Tongue.
Which, of course, was why it was called Trader’s Tongue, and why it was such an easy language to learn — this was what it was for.
It was after dinner that night — a good but unremarkable dinner — that Kelder discovered one great advantage of staying in so small an inn. With only three rooms, he and Irith had to share.