Peter Brett - The Desert Spear

"It's good to have you back," Jizell said, pulling back only after all the air had been squeezed from Leesha's slender frame.

"It's good to be back," Leesha said, returning Jizell's smile.

"And young Master Rojer!" Jizell boomed, sweeping poor Rojer into a similarly crushing embrace. "It seems I owe you thrice! Once for escorting Leesha home, and twice more for bringing her back!"

"It was nothing," Rojer said. "I owe you both more than I can repay."

"You can help work that off by playing your fiddle for the patients tonight," Jizell said.

"We don't want to put you out if there's no room," Leesha said. "We can stay at an inn."

"The Core you can," Jizell said. "You'll all stay with us, and that's final. We have a great deal of catching up to do, and all the girls will want to see you."

"Thank you," Leesha said.

"Now, who are your companions?" Jizell asked, turning to the others. "No, let me guess," she said when Leesha opened her mouth. "Let's see if the descriptions in your letters do them justice." She looked Gared up and down, craning her head back to meet his eyes. "You must be Gared Cutter," she guessed.

Gared bowed. "Yes'm," he said.

"Built like a bear, but with good manners," Jizell said, slapping one of Gared's burly biceps. "We 'll get along fine."

She turned to Wonda, not flinching in the least at the angry red scars on the young woman's face. "Wonda, I take it?" she asked.

"Yes, mistress," Wonda said, bowing.

"It seems the Hollow is full of polite giants," Jizell said. She was by no means short by Angierian standards, but Wonda still towered over her. "Welcome."

"Thank you, mistress," Wonda said.

Jizell turned last to the Painted Man, still hidden in his hooded robe. "Well, I guess you need no introduction," she said. "Let's see, then."

The Painted Man's loose sleeves fell to his elbows as he reached up to draw back his hood. Jizell's eyes widened slightly at the sight of his tattoos, but she took his hands and squeezed them warmly as she looked into his eyes.

"Thank you for saving Leesha's life," she said. Before he could react, she hugged him tightly. The Painted Man looked at Leesha in surprise, awkwardly returning the embrace.

"Now, if the rest of you can tend the horses, I'd like a few minutes to speak to Leesha alone," she said. The others nodded, and Jizell escorted Leesha into the hospit.

Jizell's hospit had been home to Leesha for several years, and still held a warm familiarity, but somehow it seemed smaller than it had just a year earlier.

"Your room is the same as you remember it," Jizell said, as if reading her thoughts. "Kadie and some of the older girls grumble about it, but as far as I'm concerned, that's your room until you say otherwise. You can bed there, and we can put the others in spare cots in the patient wards." She broke into a smile. "Unless you'd like one of the men to share your room." She gave Leesha a wink.

Leesha laughed. Jizell hadn't changed at all, still trying to find Leesha a match. "That's quite all right."

"Seems a waste," Jizell said. "You told me Gared was handsome, but you shorted him even so, and half the Jongleurs and Tenders in the city whisper that your Painted Man may be the Deliverer himself. Not to mention Rojer, a fine catch by any girl's standards, and we all know he shines on you."

"Rojer and I are just friends, Jizell," Leesha said, "and the same goes for the others."

Jizell shrugged and let the matter drop. "Just good to have you home."

Leesha put a hand on her arm. "It's only for a short time. Deliverer's Hollow is my home now. The village has swollen into a small city, and they need all the Herb Gatherers they can get. I can't stay away long; not ever again."

Jizell sighed. "Bad enough I lost Vika to the Hollow, but now you, too. If the place is going to keep stealing my apprentices, I might as well sell the hospit and set up shop there."

"We could use the extra Gatherers," Leesha said, "but the town's got threefold more refugees than we can feed. It's no place for you and the girls right now."

"Or the place we 're needed most," Jizell said.

Leesha shook her head. "I expect you'll have refugees aplenty in Angiers, before long."

"OPEN UP, IN THE name of the duke!" a voice barked shortly after dawn. The shouted command was accompanied by a loud pounding on the hospit door, still barred for the night.

Everyone at the breakfast table froze, looking at the door. The apprentices had long since eaten and were bustling about serving breakfast to the patients, leaving Jizell and the others alone in the kitchen.

It seemed to Rojer that long minutes passed in stillness, but in truth it could not have been more than seconds before Mistress Jizell looked up at them all.

"Well," she said, wiping her mouth and rising to her feet, "I'd best see to that. The rest of you keep your seats and clean your plates. Whatever the duke wants, it's best you not handle it on an empty stomach." She straightened her dress and strode out to the door.

She had not been gone more than a second before Rojer sprang from his seat, putting his back to the wall next to the doorway to listen in.

"Where is he?!" a man's deep voice barked when Jizell opened the door. Rojer crouched low and tilted his head to peek around the door frame, revealing little more than his eye and a strand of red hair. A tall, powerfully built man in bright lacquered armor loomed over Mistress Jizell. He had a fine gilded spear strapped across his back, and his breastplate was emblazoned with a wooden soldier. Rojer recognized his strong-jawed face immediately.

Rojer turned quickly to the others. "Duke Rhinebeck's brother, Prince Thamos!" he hissed, putting his eye back around the frame.

"We have many patients, Your Highness," Jizell said, sounding more bemused than threatened, "you'll have to be more specific."

"Don't toy with me, woman!" the prince barked, putting a finger in Jizell's face. "You know well-"

"Highness, please!" a high male voice cut the prince off. "There's no need for this!"

A man appeared, spreading his arms between them to passively ease the prince's arm and pointing finger away from Jizell's face. He was in many ways the exact opposite of the prince, small and uncomely, with a bald crown and a pinched face. His lank black hair was long, falling into his high collar, and his thin beard drew to a point at his chin. His wire-framed glasses sat halfway down his long nose, making his eyes seem like two tiny black dots.

"Lord Janson, the duke's first minister," Rojer advised the others.

Thamos glanced at the minister, who flinched back as if afraid the prince might strike him. The prince glanced at Jizell, then back to the small man, but his stance eased, and after a moment, he nodded. "All right, Janson, it's your stage."

"My apologies for the…urgency, Mistress Jizell," the first minister said, bowing, "but we wanted to arrive before your…ah, guest had a chance to move on." He hugged a leather paper case to his chest with one hand and pushed his glasses back up his nose with the other.

"Guest?" Jizell asked. Prince Thamos growled.

"Flinn Cutter," Janson said. Jizell looked at him blankly.

"The…ah, Painted Man," Janson said. Jizell's look became more guarded.

"He is in no trouble, I assure you," Janson added quickly. "His Grace the duke simply wishes me to ask a few questions before he decides whether to grant an audience."

There was a thump, and Rojer turned from the door to see the Painted Man rise from the table. He nodded to Rojer.

"It's all right, mistress," Rojer said, stepping through the doorway.

Janson looked over at him, and his nose twitched. "Rojer Inn," he said more than asked.