Free [Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence by Elizabeth Kerner

you say.”
He oiled in front of me, leading the way. “It’s lovely, truly it is, well
lit and airy and plenty of room for you both. And it has a balcony as overlooks
the river, you couldn’t ask for better.”
    I could not suppress my smile entirely. “I’m
sure it’ll be fine. Send up a bath as well, please, with enough hot water for
two.”
    “Yes, milady. And supper will be ready when
you come down for it. My cook’s a good hand with a stew, and the bread’s fresh
this morning, you’ll be well pleased. Now if you’ll follow me, it’s just up
this way.”
    He led me up a narrow stair and round a corner.
“There you are, big and light like I told you,” he said, opening the
door for me. “You’ll have come for the fair, I don’t doubt. Have you
travelled far?”

“Yes,” I said, looking round. The room
was indeed light and airy, the ceiling allowed me to stand upright, and the
bed, thank the Lady, looked long enough so that for once my feet wouldn’t hang
over the edge if I stretched out.
    “I suppose your man will be getting the
horses stabled?” said the innkeeper. It was mere pleasantry.
    Right.
    “I took my horse to your stables before I
came in. Your groom seems able enough.”
    The innkeeper frowned. “Then where—your
pardon, milady, but where is your husband?”
    “I don’t have one,” I replied. When he
started to protest I cut him off. “I never said I did. You saddled me with
him when I came in.” I was far too pleased with myself as I watched the
innkeeper’s jaw drop. “I have been travelling for two solid weeks, to
answer your question, and I will need enough hot water for two baths, one for
me and one for my clothing. I have arranged to meet a friend here for supper,
and now he can join me for breakfast as well. You are very kind.”
    He opened his mouth to object, so I kept
talking.” And no, I won’t move out of this room for some closet under the
eaves. I like it here and my silver is as good as anyone else’s. Now send up my
bathwater and a bottle of your best wine. I’ll be down later.”
    Before he could speak (or think) I had shoved him
out the door and latched it.
    I waited until I heard him go cursing down the
stair before I laughed. Two days before, when we stayed in a village inn, I had
been polite and found myself in a room I couldn’t stand up in because the
landlord discovered I travelled alone. This was a vast improvement. It was
clean and well warmed by the sun, and there was indeed a tiny balcony with enough
room for the little chair that sat by the bed. If I could make my peace with
the innkeeper I thought I might stay here while I decided what to do with my
new freedom.
    Just then my bath arrived, a big caulked wooden
tub with six large buckets of steaming water. I filled the tub with three of
them and followed them in, lowering my aching body into the hot water with a
deep sigh of relief. I lay back, legs hooked over the edge of the tub, letting
the heat soak through to my poor mistreated bones and breathing in the steam
like rarest perfume. That was the worst of travelling, I thought as I lay
back—you so rarely got a chance to bathe. Smelling like a horse is fine for a
while, but I hadn’t bathed in hot water for nearly a week. I was sick of horse.
    By the time I was clean and dry and the worst of
the muck washed out of my clothing, the sun had set. I dressed in the spare
linen shirt and clean leggings that I had been hoarding and realised with some
surprise that much of my feeling of pleasure and well-being came from the
simple fact of being clean again at last.
    I took up the bottle of wine and the rough cup
that had arrived with my bath and settled into the tiny chair I had moved onto
the balcony. Spread there before me lay Illara at the edge of night. The light
of the new-risen moon covered the city like a potter’s blue-white glaze, broken
only by the shimmer of silver where moonlight caught the river Arlen as it
flowed on its way to join the