COMMAND THE TIDES - Wren Handman Page 0,6
have spoken, the bear of a man spoke genially, and then, as if in deference to the serious situation, he added, “So long as a fever does not take, he will recover well. The infusion?” he asked, trailing off slightly.
Taya nodded and indicated the kettle, which was just beginning to boil, but she stepped forward just as he did, cutting him off as he moved to take it from the fireplace. She kept the knife in her hand, but down at her side, unthreatening.
“Now that the danger has passed, you will do me the courtesy of explaining the situation,” she told him firmly, her chin raised defiantly. Though there was no sign of it in her posture, a kernel of fear took root in her heart. If her fears were justified, and these men were not to be trusted, it would be now that she found it out. The two men hesitated and exchanged looks, and yet again it was the large man who spoke for the pair.
“I believe—perhaps that is something that you should ask…Darren,” he said, faltering slightly at the name. “It is his story, ma’am. He would not be pleased with us if we did the telling for him.”
An uncomfortable silence descended as she watched him, her eyes narrowed visibly as she debated whether or not that was satisfactory. After a pause slightly longer than was polite, she gave a curt nod.
“So you wish to give him the chance to decide whether he shall lie to me or tell the truth; fair enough. Do you need his permission to tell me your names, as well?” she asked in a tone that implied it had been highly rude of them not to have found the time for proper introductions in the midst of the turmoil of moments ago. And somehow, despite how ludicrous the idea was, the hardened looking man had the good grace to look ashamed.
“Please, ma’am, forgive us our rudeness. My name is David, and my companion is Ryan. We are shipmates of Darren’s.”
She touched palms with each of them, steeling her features against the rush of fear that threatened to overbalance her. It was a blatant lie, and she knew it, but she wondered if they knew how obvious it was. She had spent a good deal of her time around Darren, and she knew he had a quick wit and a sharp intelligence. Even he, however, spoke like the basest trash to be found on the docks—these men spoke as if they had just walked out the giant bronze doors of Kraza University. Or, more truly, this one man, since his companion had yet to speak. She could see no gain, however, in calling them on their bluff, and gave a quick prayer to Ashua that it would be the least of their sins tonight.
“Have you rooms reserved at one of the local inns?”
“No, ma’am. We were on our way to do so when—the incident occurred.” Again, it was David who spoke, couching his words so carefully. What kind of an idiot did he believe her, to think him a sailor?
“Well, the inns will be closed for the night by now. If you have nowhere else to stay I suppose you can spend the night here, at least until the inns open on the morrow. There are blankets upstairs, and plenty of floor in my workroom. I’ve cut some bread and cheese and vegetables, which you may help yourself to. Please don’t touch the rest. If you have need of anything else, I’ll be tending to Darren.” She slid the bottle of salve into her pocket and picked up a cup and the kettle, glancing over at the men with raised eyebrows in case they had a question. The two men moved into the kitchen and out of the doorway to let her pass, being as respectful as they had been all evening. It helped to alleviate her worries slightly. But she would still be sleeping with a knife beside her, just in case.
“One thing, ma’am,” David interrupted politely. “I do not mean to pry, but I was wondering if you would mind telling me how you and Darren know each other?” She glanced over at him and smiled, half through the doorway.
“I believe—perhaps that is something you should ask Darren. It is his story, after all,” she responded, miming his words back to him with all semblance of courtesy, and then she turned and left the room, not waiting to see what response