Star of the Morning by Lynn Kurland Page B

of tongue didn’t always go together. Morgan frowned. “You were mistaken—”
    â€œAnd you’re a girl!” the man exclaimed. “I’ve never been bested by a girl—and I’m not admitting to being bested now, of course. I was taken by surprise and in a most unchivalrous manner.”
    Morgan looked at Paien, who seemed to be struggling not to laugh. He reached down and handed the man his pack.
    â€œWe’ve all had our share of surprises with Morgan here,” he said easily. “I’m Paien of Allerdale. Who are you?”
    â€œAdhémar,” the man said with a scowl.
    Morgan rolled her eyes. Adhémar? Yet another fool bearing the current king’s name? Why couldn’t men name their sons after mountains or famous makers of swords? If she’d had a son, she would have named him Buck.
    But thinking about Adhémar the king reminded her of what she carried in her pack.
    Her pack that she had left by a tree far too far away for her comfort.
    â€œI’ll be back,” she said to Paien as she strode past him.
    â€œCome, Adhémar,” Paien said, “and let us see to a fire. I heard nothing following me, but we’ve made enough noise here recently to be attacked by all manner of unpleasant things. You know, I’m for Bere. What of you?”
    Morgan left them to their speech. If something had happened to that blade . . .
    It was with a very unwholesome sense of relief that she found her pack just exactly where she had set it down, twenty paces into the forest. She picked it up, then hesitated. It seemed untouched, but who was to say? She closed her eyes briefly, opened the drawcords, then thrust her hand down inside. She felt around until she found a long, slim wallet of leather. She didn’t have to pull it from her pack, or unwrap it, to know it contained the blade.
    She could feel the whisper of magic, even through the leather.
    She jerked her hand out, yanked the drawcords, then slung the strap over her shoulder. She wiped her hand against her leg, but her hand continued to tingle just the same.
    She had not had a very good day so far. A poor night’s sleep, a long and tedious walk, a handsome man, and magic. Could it get any worse than that?
    She hoped not.
    In time, she turned and walked back through the woods until she found Paien in a little clearing, feeding a cheery fire by himself. She dropped her pack on the ground and sat down. “Where’s Adhémar?”
    â€œHe went to collect what gear you left him with.” Paien looked at her knowingly. “Turned your head, did he?”
    â€œHe most certainly did not,” she said.
    â€œYou left the lad with most of his gear.”
    â€œAn altruistic impulse.”
    Paien only laughed. “I daresay.” He chuckled again as he tended his fire. “He’s of a finer quality than we grow here in Melksham. Perhaps it is that you have a discerning eye.”
    â€œI was impressed at first,” she admitted. “But I feel more myself now. Besides, I have no time for that sort of thing.”
    â€œDon’t you?” Paien looked at her with interest. “What are you about?”
    She hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Paien, for she did. Though he was old enough to be her sire, he fought with the strength and agility of one much younger. He was a giant of a man with hands as big as serving platters and a heart equally as large. Aye, she could say she trusted him. For her, there was no higher praise.
    But she hadn’t decided exactly what she would tell anyone who asked about her journey. Nicholas had not sworn her to secrecy, but then again, he hadn’t needed to. She wasn’t one to say more than she needed to about anything she was doing. But perhaps she could trust Paien with her destination at least.
    She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when Adhémar walked into the circle of firelight.
    â€œIs supper