"That's the one, the White Horse Inn," said Jamie. "Hadron always liked it. And keep to your plan! Believe me, during the fair the hostellers in Illara see single women as a losing proposition. He'll give you the worst hole in the place if he thinks you're alone. I’ll get the lads and the horses settled at the fairground and arrange a cot for myself out there."

"Are you sure you won't stay here with me?"

He grinned. "And miss out on all the inside dealing at the grounds? Not even for you."

"Good luck to you then, because it's been forever since I've bathed and I'd kill for hot water. I'll meet you here for supper."

I watched Jamie and the lads ride off with the horses, who despite constant attention looked as much the worse for wear as I suspected I did. It was evil of me to leave the men with all that work, but we all knew the horses would be the better for my being gone. I was thrilled at being in Illara at last, and the last thing the poor creatures needed in this strange place was the smell of my excitement.

I turned towards the inn. Losing proposition, eh? Just in case, I had changed my filthy leggings for the only skirt I had brought. After l found Shadow a place in the stables I went around front. Now for it.

I took a deep breath for courage and went in. Coming in from brilliant sunshine in the late afternoon was like walking into a cave.

I don't like caves.

"Yes, milady? Come in, come in, what might I be doin' for your ladyship?"

Well, he sounded a little greasy, but not so bad as I had feared. I had never been "milady'd" before.

By now my eyes were becoming used to the gloom. The innkeeper was some way shorter than I, but made up for it sideways. (Surely there is somewhere a place where innkeepers are made; they seem all cut from the same cloth.)

"I need a room for the night and an evening meal for two," I said quietly.

"Certainly, milady." His smile made me long for clean water. "Though I fear I'm near full up for the fair. I've only the one room left and it's the finest I have. I couldn't take less than a silver piece for it."

A silver was worth twelve coppers, or the hire of a man for six days. It was robbery.

I fought the impulse to accept it simply because I could afford it this once. "A silver for the week? That's fair," I said innocently.

The man laughed. Ugh. "Oh, no, milady. A silver for the night."

"A silver for two nights, with breakfast and supper for two thrown in," I said. "Or if that doesn't suit, I am certain there are other inns in the town."

It was twice what he could expect to get for any room he might have and he knew it. "Very well, milady. As 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 Kai. And in nearly every window there was a light, like a skyful of stars come to rest. I smiled, filled with a quiet delight. I had dreamed of this for so long, dreamed of what it would be like to be in a city. I had never imagined there would be so many lights.

The first stars gleamed at me as I stretched out in my chair; long legs, long body, broad back and strong arms. Jamie had always told me that I looked well enough, but the glass told me clearly I was not beautiful. Still, if I truly was like Maran—so alive, that was what you saw, the others were as candles to the sun—yes, I could live with that. I was proud of my hair at least. Loosed now from its braid it lay draped about me to dry. It was the colour of late autumn wheat, thick and full, and when it was clean it fell to my waist like a waterfall of dark gold. And I had my mother's northern eyes, grey like the northern skies. .

It was growing cold, I knew I should go inside, but the colours of the clear night were so lovely. I had not known such peace for a long time. I sat back and let myself be filled with moonrise over Illara. It was my first night in a city, and I was making a memory. By noon tomorrow I would have my third-share of the profits and be free to stay here or go where I chose.