Shadows and Light

something Nuala would deal with.
    And she guessed that if the Bard hadn’t been so obviously exhausted, there would have been more than one woman reduced to tears in the kitchen.
    Breanna glanced at the house. Their guests were in rooms at the front of the house where the noises of everyday activity would be less likely to disturb their rest.
    The Bard. He’d stiffened when she’d called him that. He must have forgotten he’d said it. Why would he react that way, as if she’d found out something about him he hadn’t wanted known?
    She could think of one reason—and she didn’t like where that thought led.
    “Clay?” she called.
    “Breanna.” He stepped out of an empty stall and nodded to her. “I put all the gear and the packs in the stall here.”
    “That’s good. I don’t think their instruments will come to harm there.”
    “Wanted to talk to you about their horses.”
    Oh, dear. “They’re sound, aren’t they?”
    Clay laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, they’re fine horses. Fine horses. With silent hooves.”
    She puzzled over that for a minute before she realized what he was saying. Where would two entertainers get horses like that unless ...
    “Oblige me, if you will. Go down to the brook. See if there are any water sprites near the bridge who might have seen our guests. Perhaps they could tell us something.”
    “Thought that’s what you’d say.” Clay went over to another stall and opened the door for the gelding that was already bridled.
    “Oh. Mention that he’d said they were the Bard and the Muse.”
    Nodding to indicate he’d heard her, he was mounted and gone before Breanna could get her thoughts to settle.
    She was still standing in the same spot when he returned.
    “Found one,” he said. “She seemed to be waiting for someone to come from the house before she went off to tend to her own business.”
    Breanna found it hard to swallow. “What did she say?”
    “ ‘He gave her true words if not his true face.’” Clay looked at her grimly. “What are you going to do about them?”
    “I’ll talk to Gran. It... it may be best not to mention this to anyone else. At least, not right now.”
    “You be careful, Breanna.”
    “I will.”
    When she found Nuala and Elinore, she babbled something, she wasn’t even sure what. But it was enough for Elinore to leave the room on the pretense of needing to use the water closet.
    Not sure how much time she’d have, Breanna blurted out her conversation with Aiden and then the message from the water sprite. Nuala just listened in silence.
    “What do we do?” Breanna asked.
    “Nothing,” Nuala said. She raised a hand to stifle Breanna’s protest. “We do nothing. We offered them hospitality, and hospitality is what we will give. We’ll make no mention that we know—or at least suspect—who they are.”
    “They didn’t come honestly.”
    “The Fae seldom do,” Nuala replied dryly. “But it’s evident to anyone who looks that those two have had a hard time lately—and anything they can tell us about what is happening in the eastern villages is more than we know now. So we will say nothing. Perhaps the reason they hide what they are is not so deceitful as it seems.”
    “Perhaps,” Breanna agreed reluctantly. Then she smiled, but there was no humor in it. “The Bard did warn us to be wary of strangers.” And wary we will be.
    Lyrra woke first, not sure what had pulled her from sleep.
    Somewhere outside, a dog barked again. A happy sound. Just conversation, nothing more.
    She smiled. The sausage thief sounded quite pleased with himself about something.
    Carefully moving away from Aiden, she got out of bed. He grunted, rolled on to his side, and continued sleeping. The fact that the dog didn’t wake him told her much. At any other place where they’d stayed recently, even an inn, a barking dog would have awakened him instantly. There was something here he trusted enough to take the kind of deep rest he needed.
    Tears stung her eyes as she gathered up the simple gown that had been left for her and slipped into the adjoining room to dress. The house was much finer, but the feel of the place reminded her of Ari’s cottage.
    She hoped that Ari and Neall had found a good place, a safe place.
    Pushing away thoughts of Ari that would lead to other, more painful, thoughts of the things she and Aiden had seen, Lyrra found her way downstairs. She hesitated at the kitchen door, reluctant to face the