Page 94 of Paladin's Faith

Shane did his best to look like a killer. He wasn’t sure if it worked, or if he just looked constipated. Davith rolled his eyes.

“At any rate,” said Marguerite, “there was a detour. A clearly marked detour, no less.”

“Those were arrows painted on boulders.”

“Yes. Clearly painted. And here we are. In the highlands.” Marguerite made a sweeping gesture, taking in the expanse of rolling hills, the lush grass, and the absolute lack of other humans.

It pained Shane to agree with Davith in any way, but… “Unfortunately I’m not certain where we are in relation to the rest of the highlands. And the trail seems to have stopped.”

Marguerite took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and strode out across the green hillside. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “We’ll find someone and ask for directions.”

It took an additional hour before they found someone. The light was starting to fade and Shane was beginning to look for anything that might work as shelter. It hadn’t rained again, thankfully, but lacking even dried sheep dung to burn, it was going to be a long night.

Davith’s insistence of asking directions of every sheep they passed wasn’t helping.

“Are you certain we need him?” Shane asked, while the other man interrogated a ewe about which side of the hill to go around.

“Theoretically, he’ll point out Sail operatives to us if he sees them,” Marguerite said, with an expression that indicated that she wasn’t certain if that was enough. “It’s his skin too, and he knows that. Davith is a jackass, but he’s not going to risk his neck out of spite.”

“I could make it look like an accident,” said Wren hopefully.

Shane just looked at her.

“An…axe-related…accident?”

“I can hear you, you know,” said Davith, returning from the unimpressed ewe. “And once you’re done plotting to kill me, you might like to know that there’s smoke coming from over thataway.”

He pointed. Shane couldn’t see it, but Wren and Marguerite evidently could. “Oh thank the Rat,” said Marguerite. “Civilization at last.”

Civilization, in this case, turned out to be a solitary shepherd’s hut, built of the same stone as everything else, but with a heavy thatched roof. Light leaked around the edges of the shutters and under the door. As they approached through the deepening twilight, Shane first saw a pen holding a flock of sheep, then heard a dog begin to bark from inside the hut.

“Dog,” said Wren. She nodded toward the pen. “Flock protector, not the loud one.”

Shane nodded, even though the sheep were now a white blur and he had no hope of picking a dog out of the flock, unless it happened to be, say, bright pink.

“Do you think they’d be willing to put us up for the night?” asked Marguerite. “Normally I’d ask if they had space in the barn, but…” She waved her hands, encompassing the lack of anything barn-like in the vicinity.

Shane had doubts that any of the locals would be willing to put up a small band of strangers, two of whom looked extremely warlike. “It doesn’t hurt to ask,” he said, and rapped on the door.

The dog inside lost its mind. Shane was just wondering if he should knock again when the top half of the door swung partway open, revealing an old man draped in sheepskins, holding a rushlight in a metal holder.

“Eh?” the man said. Bushy eyebrows drew together over small, bright eyes. “What’s your business, strangers?”

“I apologize for disturbing you,” said Shane, in the most soothing voice he could muster. “We’ve been lost for much of the day.”

He half-expected Marguerite to step in at this point, but she didn’t. When he glanced over at her, she nodded encouragingly to him. Right. This is what I get for using the voice. Well, it wasn’t like it was the first time.

The old man lifted the rushlight, peering across the group, then back to Shane. “Lost, eh?” he said.

Shane bowed slightly. “I understand, sir, if you don’t wish to let us in. I realize how we look. But if we could impose upon you to purchase some fuel…or perhaps a hot cup of tea…”

“I would commit mortal sins for hot tea,” said Wren, which, while clearly heartfelt, probably did not put the shepherd at ease.

“Quiet!” the old man snapped. Shane immediately closed his lips on what he was going to say. “No, not you. The dog. Quiet, you!”

The dog did not stop barking, but at least began to space the barks out somewhat. The shepherd turned back. “Came over the mountain, did you?”

“Ah…” Shane glanced back at the other three, not sure how much to reveal.