Azure bonds - Kate Novak [70]
Alias rode on without stopping, too tired to take in the sights. She had been here before, and the only sight that interested her now was a bed in The Old Skull, Shadowdale's inn.
Still, it was a relief to find the city standing and not a burned out shell. She hadn't been back for seven years, ever since the Swanmays had disbanded, but she had many fond memories of the town.
As they'd crossed the river, she'd spotted two new temples. Otherwise, nothing had changed since the time when the Swanmays had rescued Alias from servitude in Westgate and smuggled her north.
Alias had been the youngest of the seven women who made up the Swanmays, and a thumb-fingered fighter. If not for the shielding of the other members of the company, she would have been skewered in her first battle. But she'd grown into a seasoned swordswoman within three seasons, while the company earned its living guarding caravans through the Elven Wood.
The group had broken up over a foolish argument concerning a worthless man, and each member had gone her separate way. Alias found that she still cared enough about them all to wonder what had become of them.
Naturally, Alias had been closest to Kith, since they'd been closest in age. Kith had been a very beautiful young girl-so lovely she'd made Alias feel awkward and plain. Kith had been like a sister to her though. They'd even pricked their thumbs and become blood-sisters. Alias used to plait Kith's long, silky, chestnut hair and Kith had taught Alias to read and write. Kith had received her magical training in Shadowdale, from the river witch Sylune.
Maybe I'll visit Sylune before we leave here, Alias thought. If she can tell me her former pupil's whereabouts, I might look Kith up after I put this sigil mess behind me. It feels wonderful to remember something so fully. I can remember it as clearly as though I'm reading it from a book. I only left the Black Hawks a year ago, but their faces and names are fuzzy. Somehow, though, returning to Shadowdale has brought back ail my memories of the Swanmays.
"An excellent reason to visit here, even if it weren't on the way to Yulash," Alias muttered.
"I beg your pardon?" Akabar asked, pulling his horse up alongside Lady Killer. Olive, on High Roll, and Dragonbait, leading Lightning, clomped far behind.
"Nothing," Alias replied. Just for a while she wanted to keep to herself the joy of these clear memories. Akabar could not possibly understand, and Alias didn't want the memories belittled by someone else's indifference.
The Old Skull had not changed a bit. The stalwart building of timber and stone still rose three stories high, its upper levels lined with windows.
The smell of smoke mixed with damp clay and fresh-baked bread attracted Alias's attention to the building next to the inn. She remembered it was the shop of Meira Lulhannon, a potter and baker. Funny, Alias thought. I don't remember noticing the smell before. Not that it's unpleasant, but still, you'd think it would stick in my mind.
The Old Skull's innkeep was Jhaele Silvermane, a pleasant, motherly woman who had joined the Swanmays for more than one evening of strong tales and stronger drink. Alias remembered that when she'd last visited the inn, Jhaele's son had grown sons, so Jhaele had to be at least in her late fifties by now. Her hair was grayer and the lines around her eyes deeper, but otherwise she looked just as Alias remembered.
If Jhaele recognized Alias she gave no sign. Alias, for her part, did not feel up to rehashing the good old days until she'd had ten hours of sleep and had cleaned herself up. So, from beneath her sopping hood, she asked if the Green Room, the Onyx, and Warm Fires were available. In The Old Skull, each room was decorated differently and given individual names, a custom that had, unfortunately, died out in more civilized and overpopulated regions like Corrnyr.
Jhaele informed her that all three rooms were vacant and ready for guests. She gave Alias a curious look as she led the party to