Free The Warrior's Path by Catherine M. Wilson

lied to you at least once,” the Lady reminded me.
    “I know.”
    The Lady weighed my words, then shook her head. “You’re too young for this. I will talk to her. You can sit with us if you like, and if you notice something in her face or in her words — ”
    “No!” I said. “I won’t be used against her anymore. If I’m her only friend, then I must be her friend and not use what I know of her against her.”
    The Lady frowned, and I thought she would remind me to whom I owed my loyalty, but she said nothing. Her silence encouraged me to speak my mind.
    “Everyone insists on telling me how young I am, as if that makes me no more aware of what’s going on than the dog lying under the table. I can’t help being young, but I have eyes and ears, and I can understand, if anyone would bother to tell me things, more than you give me credit for.”
    I paused for a moment to catch my breath and to control my anger.
    “There’s another reason why I must be the one to speak with her,” I said. “Maara won’t explain herself to you. If she were lying, she would have an explanation for everything, to convince you she’s telling you the truth. She would try to persuade you, and that would give her away.”
    “If what she says is true, why would she not try to persuade me of it?”
    “Because she will do no more than simply tell the truth.”
    “So she will tell you the truth because you will believe her?”
    “She will tell me the truth because she’s truthful.”
 
    The Lady went downstairs with me. Outside the armory, Vintel stood guard. I made them both wait while I brought some cold meat and bread and a pitcher of ale.
    When Vintel opened the armory door, I saw that Maara had no lamp. She had been lying on the floor in the dark, and when the light fell on her face, she sat up and shielded her eyes.
    “I need a lamp,” I told Vintel.
    “What if she sets the house on fire?”
    “Then we’ll both burn with it,” I replied.
    “Bring a lamp,” the Lady told Vintel.
    Vintel brought a lamp and handed it to me. By the time I set it down in a niche inside the armory, Maara’s eyes had grown accustomed to the light. She started to get up, but the flat of Vintel’s sword on her shoulder stopped her.
    “May I bring water to bathe her?” I asked the Lady.
    She nodded.
    “And some clean clothes for her?”
    “Get whatever you need,” the Lady said.
    She waited patiently until I returned with a pot of soap, some clean cloths, a bucket of warm water, and a change of clothing for Maara. I went inside the armory and set everything down.
    “Tomorrow morning,” the Lady said, “I will call the council together, and we’ll hear what Maara has to say. In the meantime, I expect no more trouble.” She turned to Vintel. “I don’t think we need a guard posted, as long as there is someone to let Tamras out when she’s ready.”
    “No,” I said. “I’ll stay with her.”
    “As you like,” the Lady said.
    She nodded to Vintel, who shut and barred the door.
 
    Maara reached for the cold meat. I pushed her hand away.
    “Not until I bathe you,” I said. “You smell like you fell into a bog.”
    “I’m hungry,” she said, but she sat still.
    I don’t know why I was so abrupt with her. As glad as I was to see her, I had been very frightened, and I was in a hurry to put the world back the way it used to be, so that it would make sense to me again. I untied the yoke of her shirt and pulled it off over her head. She winced, and I saw a dark bruise covering the ribs on her left side.
    “I’m sorry,” I said.
    She shook her head, as if it didn’t matter, but after that I was more careful with her. I got her boots and trousers off and washed her as well as I could. She did little to help me. Her body hurt, and she was exhausted, but I felt something else in her that frightened me. I felt that she had abandoned herself, that she no longer cared what happened to her. I worried she might not recover her spirits