Covenant's End Read Free Page A

central building. “Excuse me, mademoiselle ?”
    The man who'd addressed her was teetering on the precipice of old age, ready to fall at any moment, and clad in the sort of heavy, colorful fabrics that said “I'm a merchant who wants you to believe I can afford better than I actually can.”
    Shins's hand didn't drift to her rapier, but she suddenly became much more aware of precisely where it was. “Yes?”
    â€œI'm just…if you've come this far traveling alone, does that mean the roads have grown safer again?”
    She wasn't sure what “safer” meant, what she was supposed to compare to, but, “No, I don't think so.”
    â€œStill rife with highwaymen, then?”
    Now she did allow her fingers to close on the hilt of her weapon. “Fewer now than before.”
    â€œAh.” The merchant's patronizing smile said, as clearly as any message from Olgun, that he didn't believe a word of it. “Well, thank you for your time.”
    A nod, and Shins pushed through the door, where the scent of cooked foods—as well as substantial amounts of travelers’ sweat—dove into her nostrils like they were seeking shelter.
    â€œHow do you like that?” she asked, voice pitched so softly that nobody else could possibly overhear. “A girl could start to feel a bit mistrusted.”
    Olgun snorted, or made whatever the abstract empathic equivalent of a snort might be.
    Square room. Square tables. Even squareish chairs. All creaking with years of use, all having absorbed so many odors in their time that they were probably made up of smells as much as wood.
    It looked almost nothing like the common room of the Flippant Witch, but Shins still felt a pang of homesickness deep in her gut.
    Soon.
    It wasn't a tavern, precisely. The large common room was connected, via a wide doorway, to something of a general store. Drinks and food were made available here, yes, but as an adjunct to the shop rather than its own separate business.
    About half the chairs were occupied, and about half the occupiers paused their drinking, chewing, or conversation—sometimes two or all three at once—to briefly examine the newcomer. Again her youth and sex drew a few second looks, but most of the patrons turned back to their own affairs readily enough.
    Shins moved to the small counter beside the interior door, presuming that the young girl behind it served as barkeep. “Hi.”
    A saucer-wide stare and a breathy “Uh, welcome” responded.
    Then and there, Widdershins firmly decided that the girl did not remind her of Robin. Mostly because Shins had no intention of allowing her to. Sliding two fingers into one of the many pouches at her belt, she produced a couple of the coins she'd, ah, liberated as compensation for the bandits’ attempts to harm her.
    â€œA mug of your best whatever this will pay for.” Two thin smacks of metal against wood, and then Shins dug out a second pair. “And a plate of the best whatever this will pay for.” Clinks rather than smacks , as she laid those two atop the others.
    Blink. “Oh. Um…” Blink, blink. “Okay. Coming right up.” Blink.
    Widdershins wandered away from the counter, scooted a chair out from an empty table with one foot, spun it by the back, and dropped perfectly into it as the seat whirled past her. Studiously and smugly ignoring the bemused glances that brought her, she tilted the chair back, balanced on a single leg, and crossed her ankles on the table's edge.
    â€œWhat? Oh, I am not showing off!” she protested. “I just…want to make it clear to everyone here that I can take care of myself. Can't be too careful, yes?
    â€œNo, it is not the same as showing off! The idea isn't to impress people, it's to…differently…impress people. For different…Oh, shut up.”
    For the next several minutes, Shins occupied herself by spinning her rapier and scabbard,