Page 21 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
A shaggy cow, with long white horns, lowed at them, and the woman watched it until it disappeared from view. After some time, she sank back against the bundles and appeared to doze. Arick contemplated doing the same, but his thoughts wouldn’t rest.
“Were there any reports of castaways out your way?” he asked.
The driver was silent so long he doubted his intention to answer at all. “On the hills, no. I dinnae think there’d be much chance of the storm blowing them that far.”
Arick laughed, but stayed quiet after that.
“Were you heading for the city, then?” The driver asked after some time.
Arick turned around to see the first structures coming into town.
The driver waved with his pipe. “It’s to the right I’m heading, at the wee crossroads.”
“That’s fine, thank you,” Arick replied. “The inn isn’t far.”
“Ach, if it’s to the Coorie Inn you’re going, then I can take you that far.”
“That would be immeasurably kind. Thank you, sir.”
A few minutes later, the cart slowed in front of the inn. Even at midday, the windows glowed bright with flickering lanterns, exuding a sense of warmth and hospitality. The building’s timeworn walls seemed to hold countless stories within their embrace.
Arick jumped down and lifted the woman in his arms. He set her on a bench near the oak door and returned to the cart.
“I’m sorry that I have no coin with me today, but if you find yourself at the castle, tell them Arick sent you, and they’ll see you’re adequately compensated.”
The driver gave him a hard look. “You’re the young laird, then.”
Arick squirmed. His brother was to have been the one to inherit their father’s title, and Arick was still adjusting to the fact that one day it would be his. “You’ve done me a great service, so I see no need for formality between us. You have my gratitude.”
The driver nodded, then removed the pipe from his mouth to point at the woman. “She’s an odd one, isn’t she?”
Arick shrugged, for he couldn’t deny it. He thanked the man again and walked back over to the woman. She looked small, sitting under the second story overhang, though there was a wild elegance to her. Her pale skin and red curls stood out against the dark wooden shingles of the building. Another cart trundled by, followed by a pair of riders on tall horses. From the nearby dock came shouts as sailors and stevedores worked on a ship.
He pulled his gaze away. He could ask there later whether anyone had been pulled from the water, but he needed to take care of the woman first.
“Shall we go in?”
The tension in her shoulders fell away as she spotted him, and a slight smile played on her lips. He wondered why everything seemed so new and overwhelming to her, and he made a note to check with the harbormaster about whether any foreign ships had been due to arrive last night.
He lifted her and walked around the side of the inn. Although it wouldn’t be busy this time of day, it wasn’t appropriate for him to haul her through the public room, clad as she was in nothing but a piece of sail.
“Elsbeth!” He called at the back door. “Give a lad a hand, would you?”
“Enough of your hollerin’, I’m coming,” a harried voice snipped in reply.
The door pushed open to reveal an apron-ensconced woman. A tartan scarf covered most of her silver-streaked hair, but flour dusted scarf and braids alike. Her rich brown eyes opened wide when she spotted him.
“Arick, lad, what happened to you?” She bustled him and his burden into the kitchen and motioned to a bench where he could set the woman down. “Is she alright?”
“I think so. She’s not been able to tell me what’s wrong, but her feet hurt when she tries to walk.”
“What do you mean, she can’t tell you?”
He helped the woman settle on the bench and gave her a reassuring smile. “I think she speaks a different language.”
Elsbeth frowned. “How did you find her?”
“On the beach. We were shipwrecked in the storm last night.” He pressed his lips together, still angry that the storm had ruined what should have been a beautiful night. “Have you heard anything?”
