Trevard didn't completely understand all the words the man in the lion shirt said, but he knew what the tone meant, and he reflexively cringed, dropping his broom's handle and bringing up both his stout forearms to protect his head. The broom clattered to the floor. Cedric saw what was happening and stepped around the bar. His gentle hand fell on Trevard's shoulder. "Easy now, then. Trev here didn't mean any harm. He works hard and he's a good lad. If he spilled any of your ale, I'll be more than happy to refill it." He patted Trevard's arm and bent to pick up the broom, tucking its haft into his hand. "Why don't you go sweep around the back corner, there's a good lad."
Trevard could see in Cedric's eyes and stance that he was not at ease. He hadn't been since the lion-shirt men had come to the town, but it had gotten worse when a group of the lion-shirt men had come to the inn and hit him with their fists and the flats of their swords. Cedric limped now. No one was at ease these days. Lion-shirt men usually didn't come to Cedric's inn. Usually only the rose shirt men, who were mostly nice to him, who spoke to him kindly and laughed with Cedric and clapped him on the back. These ones were tense and mean. Something was going to happen, something bad. Everyone was worried and scared, and they were trying to hide being worried and scared by being mean. Trevard knew all about people like that. Usually Cedric protected him from them. No one had ever been as nice to him as Cedric. He gave him good bread and stew and let him sleep in a warm, dry cubby next to the root cellar, in exchange for sweeping the inn's wooden floor.
He tucked his head down and shuffled to the back, dark corner, busying himself by sweeping up the dirt and grime of the many tramping clomping metal and leather boots, trying to make himself invisible. The back corner of the inn was a good place to be invisible. It caught most of the warmth of the hearth, but the L-shaped corner wall and the posts that held up the roof blocked much of the light. There were barrels and buckets piled high against the back wall. Trevard felt safe here and often came here when the noise and crowds became too much for him.
The lady was also here. She was trying to be invisible too. She had been here for almost a moon's full turn. Cedric let her sleep in the root cellar on a pile of hay, so they were almost bunk mates. But she didn't sleep much. When they passed each other in the inn, she didn't speak, but made room for him if he was carrying something heavy; she never bothered or yelled at him. Sometimes she sat in the back of the inn in the dark, eating bread or stew very slowly. Sometimes at night she climbed out a window, climbed all the way up to the roof of the inn and crouched there, watching. She was very quiet, but Trevard loved the inn more than almost anything, and knew the sound of each creaky floorboard and roof beam. Lots of the other people seemed scared of her, but Trevard wasn't scared of her. She reminded him of Scrappie, the blacksmith's cat. They both were very alone and very quiet and mostly watched the room with greenish unblinking eyes. Neither bothered anyone, except maybe mice, because Scrappie was a good hunter. Maybe the lady was a good hunter too.
But this time, she spoke to him. Her voice was very low and soft and toneless, like the fall wind in the eaves. "Did those men hurt you?"
He shook his head emphatically. He tried to match her volume; he knew she didn't want the lion-shirt men to hear. "No, lady. They are acting really mean right now. But I think they're just scared."
"Aye." She nodded. "Aye, they are. Do you know why they're scared?"
He furrowed his brow, thinking. "Um, I think I heard Cedric say yesterday... Ummm..." His voice pitched up. "Damnable Boeruine whoresons, evidently a whole patrol went missing last night, and now they're all tenser than a hide on the stretching rack, and as like to split in two."
The lady's eyes widened. "My goodness. That sounded just like him. That's quite a talent." Her face didn't show much of anything, but he could tell she was pleased. "Are you hungry? I have some of Cedric's fine onion-bread, but I haven't much of an appetite."
He eagerly took the golden hunk of bread from her plate and gobbled it; he'd been working since dawn with barely a pause. He watched her carefully as he did. Trevard was very good at figuring out from people's faces and voices if they were mad, or mean, or about to play a trick on him, or if they were nice. He couldn't tell with this lady. He couldn't read her any more than the flat strips of parchment that the nobles covered in strange black marks. But for some reason, he wasn't afraid of her.
"Are you scared, lady? Or sad? Or mad? Or lonely? I can't see. With people I can mostly see, but I can't see, with you."
She smiled, very slightly, and paused for a long while before answering, as though it wasn't a question she had ever thought to be asked. "All four, I think."
"Oh." He chewed the onion bread with great relish. "Why?" he asked with his mouth still full, even though Cedric often told him not to.
The lady didn't seem to mind. Again, she stopped to consider her answer. "I'm scared because bad things are going to happen soon. Very bad things, where a lot of people might be hurt. Some of the bad things happened because of me, because of things I did, or things I didn't do. Some of the people who might be hurt are people who I try to protect. I can't protect all of them, so I'm scared for them.
"I am sad because, for a time, life was easy, and good. Then life got hard, and sad. And it keeps getting harder, and sadder. Some days it is so hard and sad I don't know how to keep going. But I can't quit, because too many people need me now. I will never quit, because of them, no matter how hard and sad it gets. I am sad because I have lost a lot of people I love. Some died because of bad people. Some died because I made mistakes, and I see their faces every day. Some went away from me, because there were things more important to them than me." A hard, cold edge, like the windowpanes in winter, crept into her voice. "And some are lost, and I'm not sure if I will ever see them again. I might, but I don't dare to hope.
"I am mad because I see things in the world that should not be. I am mad that the world is full of people who are greedy, and foolish, and weak, and that the little people like you and I who just try to get by cannot do so because of them. I am mad because I want to make things right, and I don't know how, and sometimes I don't even know what right is.
"And finally I am lonely because I have two friends who I love very much who have gone away for now. I spent my whole life by myself and I thought I liked it, but now I am lonely whenever my two friends are not with me. One is very large and very loud and likes to fight and drink. The other is very small and very quiet and likes to read. I love them and I don't think I could keep going without them."
Trevard smiled so big, couldn't stop smiling. He was pleased she had shared with him. People didn't share such treasures of their secret inner hearts with anyone often, but almost never with him. And he knew instinctively that the lady shared her heart with very few people. Almost without thinking, he moved to her and wrapped his arms around her. She was startled, but after a moment, she returned the embrace. She felt like bones and muscles and armour and many hidden knives.
She moved away and looked at him very seriously. "Very bad things are going to happen in a day or two or three. When you hear loud noises and men shouting, if you hear swords, and especially if you see... an unusual amount of fire, or lightning, promise me you will go to the root cellar and close the door, okay? Take Cedric with you too. He's a good man. Do you promise?"
Trevard nodded solemnly. "I promise. What do you mean, 'an unusual amount of fire, or lightning'?" He mimicked her voice, flat, soft, toneless.
"I mean my two friends are coming back to Portage soon. And we're going to try and make a few things right."
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