The Banished of Muirwood by Jeff Wheeler

hunter said, winning Maia’s respect even more.
    Collier waved over a servant, who arrived moments later with a large platter filled, puzzlingly enough, with raw meat and loaves of bread. Once the servant had left the platter on the table, Collier continued. “I am known as the king’s collier because when I was a boy, I shoveled his stables. I learned everything I could about horses and keeping them, in order to be useful. I am entrusted on many errands throughout the realm, which suits my personality, for I truly loathe being in one place for very long. Life in the saddle suits my personality.”
    “And with the Mark riding hither and yon with his army all the time,” Jon Tayt said, “he sends Collier to deliver messages and prepare others for his arrival as he goes this way and that. He knows the roads of the kingdom almost as well as I do. The mountain passes . . . passably well. Did you like the play on words?” He chuckled to himself. “He can unshoe or shoe a hoof as well as any blacksmith . . . but not as well as me.”
    “Of course, there is only one proper way to shoe a horse!” He rolled his eyes and belted out a laugh.
    “One more thing you should know about him,” Jon Tayt said. “He is also called Collier because he is a wretched, and they take on the name of their profession. The old king of Dahomey had quite a brood of children. Most of them born on the right side of the sheets. Save one. Which abbey were you abandoned at?”
    That news startled Maia, and she saw the crack in Collier’s mask of frivolity. A darkness seemed to shadow the man’s face. He was staring at her again, his bright blue eyes slightly narrowed, but after a moment of silence, he smiled self-deprecatingly and shrugged. “Lisyeux Abbey. We cannot any of us choose our station in life,” he said. “We only choose what we make of it. I have a good life. I do what I most enjoy. And for the most part, I am unmolested as I ride dangerous roads because thieves and villains think twice when they see me coming. They know I do not fight fair.” His expression turned more thoughtful. He lightly jabbed a finger at her. “I will not hesitate to stab out an eye or cut off a hand when it suits me. Enough about my name and who I am. Who are you, my lady? What Hundred do you hail from?”
    Maia was not sure what she wanted to say, but she was certain she could not reveal her true identity to him. She was rocked by the strange contradictions in his life and his demeanor. He was handsome, to be sure, but his agreeableness was clearly not born of rank or station.
    “I will also add,” Jon Tayt said, interrupting again, “that Collier is a notorious flirt, so do not answer any of his questions. He is a rogue himself, despite his talk of bandits and thieves. Leave the talking to me.”
    “When can we not leave the talking to you?”
    “You have done very well for yourself, Collier. Push the tray nearer and I may be more quiet.”
    “Wait for the broth and cheese, Tayt.”
    “I am happy eating raw meat right now. But here they come with it.” Several of the serving girls arrived, carrying pots and iron stands and small oil lamps. The lamps were positioned beneath the pots in the iron stands so their flames would heat the bottoms. Maia had never seen such a setup before and she watched curiously as the cheese and broth began to seethe again.
    Tayt skewered several pieces of meat with thin forks and then dipped them into the pot. He asked the serving girl for a tray of vegetables and pulled out the skewers a moment later. The meat had been cooked in the broth, and Jon Tayt offered a steaming portion of it to her. He himself used the skewers to eat, pulling a strand of meat off with his teeth.
    “This little place has the best broth and cheese,” Tayt said to Maia. “The recipe is Pry-rian. I taught it to them.”
    “Naturally, you taught it to them,” Collier said with an exasperated look.
    “The quality of an inn is not