Page 9 of Winter's Echo
With a small cry of triumph, I pulled out the iron key and settled in to wait. As darkness fell over the inn, I hurried over to the attic window.
It wasn’t too far out of reach, and if I stretched my entire length, I just managed to get the key in the lock of the skylight.
I needed to move a piece of furniture quietly. Stealthily, I pushed a chair over, and then, with great difficulty but strongdetermination, I unlocked the skylight enough to wiggle through onto the roof.
I owed Sayla more than a few copper pieces the next time I saw her.
With effort, I leaned back through the window, made a few futile attempts to grab my pack, and when I finally snagged it, I had to wrestle it through the small opening.
Lying on my back on the inn’s roof, I tried to calm my heavy breathing. I was very aware that not everyone downstairs would already be asleep.
Darkness in Crystallese could be intimidating. The kingdom was the northernmost on the continent, and its people lived in a constant gray gloom or the darkness of night. The warmer months were still a long way off, and we were firmly in the grip of the coldest part of the year.
Crystallese, the land of endless winter. In this part of the continent, snow was always present, whether it was on the ground or falling.
Using a skill I learned long ago, I half slid, half crawled along the roof of the inn. It sloped gently toward an extension Sayla had insisted on building a few years earlier. It expanded her kitchen, and now the inn didn’t smell so bad of rotten vegetables.
It also made a very nice descent onto the packed snow beneath it, and with the skill of a cat, I landed on my feet.
I shouldered my pack, pulled the hood of my traveling cloak over my head, letting it hang lower than normal, and pulled the neck warmer from around my neck up and over my mouth to guard against the cold, then headed straight for the village wall.
With the soldiers settled in the inn, the Town Watch had resorted to its usual lazy ways, and the entry points had the bare minimum in terms of presence.
I dared not try the gate. Instead, I scaled the wall nimbly and soon was on the other side. After a short burst of speed, I was in the dense woodland.
I didn’t look back as I slipped through the thick, barren trees of the forest. The tall trunks of black rose high above me, and in my dark cloak, I blended into my surroundings, putting as much distance as possible between Eirhollow and me.
Take them north? For one gold and one silver? No. Not a task for me.
I hadn’t asked why Darysian soldiers wanted to travel north, and I didn’t care. I only cared thatIwasn’t traveling with them.
No good would come of that. No good at all. I was a trailfinder, not an adventurer.
I walked through the forest late into the night. Clouds obscured the moon, and the snow fell softly around me, a steady companion in this frozen land.
To most, it was bleak and empty.
To me, it was freedom.
I did not take that freedom lightly, and I did not lie down and accept it when it was threatened.
When I stumbled too many times in the dark, I looked for shelter among the trees. Some of them grew so close together that they formed a kind of barrier, and finding a tree with a low enough branch, I was able to climb out of the snow. With care and years of practice, I curled into the trunk of the tree and closed my eyes for the night.
Morning would come too early, and I still had many leagues to cover before the distance between those soldiers and me was enough.
Enough to feel safe.
Chapter 3
I was usedto sleeping in short cycles.
When you were a trailfinder, leading a caravan of wagons, or one single trader and his wares, you learned quickly to become the first one to wake and the last one to take their rest.
Traders and merchants were salesmen. Or, as my older brother Karlus called them, thieves.
I hadn’t seen my oldest brother in many months. As the youngest of three children, I was taught to fight by my brothers, who showed me how to use a dagger and a short sword. Nothing fancy, just enough to know the difference between hurting someone and killing someone. One was a warning; the other was when all warnings had been ignored.
I’d been a trailfinder for four years now, and I’d only struck to kill once. I’d not hung around to find out if my mark had struck true.
