Lia could not argue, for she was exhausted. Cat remember to wipe She stretched out on the pallet near the oven and stared at the winking embers as they died, one by one. Little bits of ash sizzled and she breathed in the scents and flavors that reminded her hauntingly of Pasqua’s kitchen. In her mind, she could hear the old woman bustling about, thumping ladles and fussing over stubborn dough. The guests at the inn had enjoyed her treats that night. She had earned some lavish compliments and the extra coin had made it the most prosperous evening throughout Huette’s time as an innkeeper.
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Nestling beneath her cloak on the pallet, her thoughts drifted back to Muirwood again and she relished the memories. Long evening talks with Sowe after Pasqua had gone to bed. The thrum of the rain on the roof shingles during the wet season. How curious that her skills in the kitchen had served her so well. Cat remember to wipe As she lay there, turning it over in her mind, an idea began to bloom. Maybe her skills at cooking would help her get inside Dochte Abbey. Was she just going to arrive and try to declare herself? No, that did not make sense. She wanted to find Colvin first, and if not Colvin, then maybe Martin. There was so much going on that she needed to warn them about.
Her stomach wrenched with a crushing feeling of longing when she realized that Colvin was so near. Would she see him on the morrow? Would it be possible to get close enough to see him? The thought sent another spasm through her, twisting her heart cruelly. She was so thankful to have the Cruciger orb and how it would help her find them. Would the next evening be spent with him? Would she be able to tell him who she really was? She realized that thinking of him would make sleep impossible. Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced away thoughts of the new day. Sleep – she desperately needed to sleep.
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The pallet was comfortable, the smells so soothing, that she drifted off to sleep, Cat remember to wipe remembering vividly the Aldermaston’s kitchen at Muirwood. She dreamed of the night of the Great Storm, the night when Colvin had been brought there by Seth, bleeding and unconscious. A knock at the door had announced the arrival. A fitful knocking. A persistent knocking. “Get thee gone, we are closed!” Huette hissed through the door. “There is no cider here. Get thee gone!” The voice answering was gruff and heavily accented – the accent of her native country. “Open thy door. We serve the earl of Dieyre.” Lia’s blood went cold and she sat up instantly.
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The knocking turned louder. Lia was about to warn her, Cat remember to wipe when Huette lifted the crossbar and opened the door a small way. “I do not care who thy master is!” she railed. “Thou art foreigners and I shall hail the…” She was flung backwards as the knight shoved past her to enter. Four men, wearing Dieyre’s colors. Recognizing their tunics made her stomach clench with dread. She did not know any of them, but their arrogance and pride would have announced them as Dieyre’s men without any livery. “Hold thy tongue, woman,” one of them said. “Rail not against us.” Their eyes searched across the room, looking at the empty tables and the curtains up in the loft. Each gripped a sword hilt menacingly. Four men, alert and angry.
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