It's a quiet night for once, with everybody gone up to the keep or else laying low to wait and see if the raiders will strike. The Rian sent a messenger with a horse to carry me off to safety but I just laughed. If I can't fend off a pack of rumors with my good blackthorn stick, then what am I good for?

And that's exactly what I think they are, these raiders. Just a pack of rumors spreading like a bad cough, from mouth to mouth, a rumor probably started by some idling warriors who've had the most boring summer of their lives this year.

Word travels fast in Inver Colpa. I heard about the man who was supposed to be part of a surprise attack, laying half dead on the road. Maybe the renegades did pass through and they just threw him off, since he'd be of no further use to them. Then they moved on and are probably far, far from here by now.

I poke at the fire, having nothing else to do. My house is empty for the first time since I can ever remember, and that's quite a span. The kettle has burnt itself black on the bottom for lack of any ladling. It's rather unsettling, this silence, with no voices or music or even the clink of cups and bowls.

When the door creaks open, I have a smile ready. Company at last! And who might it be but MacRoths all clad in matching brats, how very very odd. Three of them and a woman, an herbalist by her green cloak. Where have they come from, I wonder. The men are broad in the shoulder and narrow in the waist, fine figures in their prime, a dark one with a battle axe and a moody look about him and a handsome young archer with a sneaky woodsman's tread. The other man is older, bearded and bent. A crookback!

Didn't somebody say the outlaw chief was a crookback?

I greet them as I would any who come in, taking up my stick in a way that looks like I have to lean on it for ease.

"Evenin' good people and welcome! Ach, the damp weather plays hard on an old woman's bones. What'll be your comfort tonight? We've the best mead this side of the Otherlands. Or ale, if it pleases you best. And some stewed up lamb, a bit overdone but with fresh greens."

Without seeming to stare, I study each of them with great care. It is the practiced art of a good innkeeper and always serves me well.