Raven's Shadow (Raven #1)(13)

"My father said that a silent person is trying to hide something," she said as she dumped the trays in a stack. "Girl, get the broom and sweep the front room. See that you get the corners so that we don't attract mice."

Tier saw Seraph stiffen, but she grabbed the broom and dustpan.

"Alinath, she is a guest in our house," Tier bit out as the door closed behind Seraph. "You don't use that tone to the hired boy. She has done nothing to earn your disrespect. Leave her be."

"She is a Traveler," snapped Alinath, but there was an undercurrent of desperation in her voice. "She bewitches you because she is young and pretty. You laugh with her and you'll barely exchange a word with any of us."

How could he explain to her his frustration with the life that so obviously suited her without hurting her feelings? The bakery was smothering him.

When he said nothing, Alinath said, "You're a man. Bandor is the same - neither of you see what she is. You think she's a poor familyless, defenseless woman in need of protection because that's what she wants you to see."

A flush of temper lit Alinath's eyes as she began to pace. "I see a woman who looks at my brother as a way to wealth and ease that she'll never have when she finds one of those ragtag bands of Travelers. She doesn't want to go to her people - even you must see that. I tell you that if you just give her the chance, she'll snatch you into a marriage-bed."

Tier opened his mouth and then closed it again. He tried to see Seraph as his sister described her, but the image didn't ring true.

"She's a child," he said.

"I was married when I was her age."

"She is a child and a Traveler," he said. "She'd no more look at me that way than she'd think of marrying a... a horse. She thinks of all of us as if we were a different species."

"Oh and you know so much about women," his sister ranted, though she was careful to keep her voice down so she couldn't be heard in the front room where Seraph was. "You need to find a good wife. You always liked Kirah. She's widowed now and would bring a fair widow's portion with her."

Tier put the dough in the greased bowl he'd set out for it, covered it with cheesecloth, and then scrubbed his hands in Seraph's tub of cooling water. He shook them dry and took off his father's apron and hung it on the hook. Enough, he thought.

"Don't wait dinner for me," he said and started to leave. He stopped before he opened the door to the front room. "I've been counting too heavily on manners and the memory of my little sister who saw me leave without telling anyone because she understood me enough to know that I had to leave. I see that you need a stronger reason to leave Seraph alone. Just you remember that, for all of her quietness she has a temper as hot as yours. She is a Traveler and a wizard, and if she takes a notion to teach you what that means, neither your tongue nor your fist will do you a bit of good."

He left before she could say anything, closing the door to the baking room firmly behind him.

Seraph glanced his way as he stalked past her, but he said nothing to her. She'd be all right; his warning would keep Alinath away from her for a while.

He couldn't face Seraph right now, not with his sister's accusations ringing in his ears. Not that he believed what Alinath had said about Seraph for a moment - but Alinath'd opened the way for possibilities that made him uncomfortable. He'd never thought much about the peace that Seraph's tart commentary and quiet presence brought him: he'd just been grateful for the relief from the demands of his family. He didn't want to examine what he felt any closer. So Tier nodded once at Seraph and also to Bandor before leaving the bakery.

Once outside, his steps faltered. He'd worn Skew out this morning, so it hardly seemed fair to take him out again. He could walk - but it wasn't exercise he needed, it was escape.

The Hero's Welcome was a tavern and an inn, a conglomeration of several older buildings, and the first building on the road through Redern. It was seldom empty, and when Tier entered it there were a number of men sitting near the kitchen entrance gossiping with each other while the tanner's father, Ciro, coaxed soft music from his viol.

It made Tier think of his grandfather and the grand concerts he and Ciro, who had been the tanner himself then, had put on. If Seraph ever heard the old man play, she'd know why Tier would never consider himself a bard in any sense of the word.

He seated himself beside these men he'd known since he was a child and greeted them by name, older men, all of them, contemporaries of his grandfather. The younger men would come in later, when they were finished with their work and chores.

One of the men had been a soldier in his youth, and Tier spent a little time exchanging stories. The innkeeper, noticing that there was a newcomer, offered Tier ale. He took it, but merely nursed it because the oblivion he sought wouldn't come from alcohol.

Ciro gradually shifted from playing broken bits and pieces into a recognizable song, and an old, toothless man began humming, his tone uncertain with age, but his pitch absolutely true. One after the other the old men began to sing. Tier joined in and let the healing music make the present fade away.

They sang song after song, sometimes pausing while one man tried to hum enough of something he'd heard long ago for Ciro to remember it, too - that man had a memory for music that Tier had only seen his grandfather equal.