Shadows and Light

her.
    Jenny took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Her smile was a little self-conscious as she said, “If some of my new neighbors would be willing to lend a hand to clean up a couple of rooms, the boys and I can settle in while Mihail and Sweet Selkie go back to fetch some of the others.” She bit her lip, and her face paled a little.
    Mihail reached out, rested a hand on her arm. “I’ll bring them to safe harbor, Jenny. Those who haven’t already left to visit kin, I’ll bring them to safe harbor.”
    “Done then,” Cordell said, climbing out of the cart. “If you brought anything with you, let’s get it unloaded so your brother can be on his way.” She smiled mischievously at Mihail. “And since my other branch of the Mother is air, I can promise you fair winds and calm seas for the start of your journey.”
    While Mihail and several men headed for the ship and several women began the brisk business of deciding with Jenny what she and the boys would need, Ashk eased her horse out of the crowd. Morag followed.
    “The shadows,” Ashk said abruptly. “Do you still see them on his face?”
    “No.” She’s tired, Morag thought. This was harder for her than she allowed anyone to see. “You weren’t sure they’d be accepted.”
    “I wasn’t sure,” Ashk agreed. “Or that he could accept what he found here. And while I suspected there had been at least one witch in his family somewhere along the line, I hadn’t suspected he had quite that strong a tie to the House of Gaian. But I thought, when it came to the villagers here deciding about him, his eyes would be in his favor, and I was right about that.”

    “His eyes?”
    “He has woodland eyes, Morag. So do those boys. So does Jenny. A witch’s eyes. Anyone who has those eyes has a bit of the House of Gaian running through their veins.”
    Like you , Morag thought, looking at Ashk.
    “Come along,” Ashk said, brushing her heels against her horse’s sides. “There’s a tavern nearby. The family lives above it, but they keep a couple of rooms set aside for guests—and they serve a decent meal. We can stay there tonight and get a fresh start in the morning. Besides, once Jenny and the boys are settled, Cordell will want to speak with me.”
    “Cordell.” Morag stiffened when she finally made the connection. “She’s Neall’s grandmother.”
    “Yes. She’ll want news of him and Ari.”
    “I thought she didn’t care.”
    “I thought so, too, for a long time. But hearing her talk to Jenny ... I wonder if she hadn’t been right all along. Nora had loved Bretonwood, and Cordell needed the sea. She could have taken her daughter to the Old Place here, but it wouldn’t have been the same. Not for Nora. Bretonwood was where her heart lived.”
    Morag hesitated, then said, “I wonder if Ari regrets leaving Brightwood.”
    Ashk shook her head. “She came to a place that needed her, welcomed her.”
    “Like Jenny.”
    “Like Jenny.”
    When they reached the tavern, the young man who came out to lead the horses to the stables around back barely glanced at either of them—but he beamed and cooed to the horses.
    “Well,” Ashk said as she slung her saddlebags over one shoulder and strode to the tavern door. “That puts me in my place.”
    Morag just laughed softly.
    They kept the conversation light that evening, even spent a little time listening to the village minstrel who often played in the tavern. And if they were wondering what was happening at the barons’ council or whether Mihail would get back in time to get the rest of his family safely out of the east, neither voiced the thoughts, giving each other the gift of silence.

Chapter Sixteen
    Ubel stepped away from the other five Inquisitors and the young forester they’d captured. Not much more than a boy, really. All it had taken was a little of the Inquisitor’s Gift of persuasion to coax the lad deep into the woods on Baron Padrick’s estate. He would have liked to take their captive farther away, but he’d been impatient to wring information out of the boy.
    Just as well. The boy had broken so quickly under the first level of softening, he’d spilled out disjointed answers to every question they’d asked.
    The result was frustrating, and he was still trying to sort through the boy’s words to fit them into something that made sense.
    The baron had not yet returned home from the barons’ council. That was good. The baron’s wife was also not at home, nor were the