It was past dusk when she returned. Leading Warain to his stall, she rubbed him down with fresh straw, filled his feedbox with grain, and covered his grey back with a thick woollen blanket.
Returning to her rooms, she found Vint waiting for her. ‘Did you clear your head, Karis?’ he asked, offering her a goblet of mulled wine. She drained it in a single swallow.
There was a log fire blazing in the hearth. Karis moved to it and removed her wet, cold clothing. Vint crossed the room and began to massage her shoulders and neck. ‘You are very cold,’ he said, his voice husky.
‘Then warm me,’ she told him.
Later, as they lay naked beneath satin sheets and heavy blankets, Karis waited until Vint’s breathing deepened, then slid silently from the bed and returned to the fire. It had died down and she placed two fresh logs upon it.
In order to use the crossbows to maximum effect, the Daroth charge would have to be slowed. Three volleys would cause carnage in their ranks, but that would involve holding up the Daroth for almost a minute within a twenty-pace range. Karis drank two goblets of wine, and still felt no drowsiness. She thought of waking Vint for another session of love-making, but decided against it. He was a caring and thoughtful lover, taking his time
and making the moments last. At this moment Karis did not need such drawn-out intensity. Instead, she donned fresh leggings and a white woollen shirt, buckskin boots and her hooded jerkin, and walked from the palace into the night.
The streets were deserted and a bitter wind was blowing down from the north. Karis pulled her hood over her long dark hair, and turned down a side alley towards the Barracks tavern. Golden lantern light glowed from the windows and a rush of welcome heat enveloped her as she pushed open the door. There were two log fires burning, one at each end of the long room within, and the tavern was packed with soldiers. Karis scanned the room, spotting the red-bearded giant Forin sitting in a corner with a young whore perched upon his knee.
Karis eased her way through the crowd and removed her jerkin, draping it over the back of the chair opposite the giant. ‘We need to talk,’ she said.
‘Will it take long?’ he asked. ‘I have plans for the evening.’ He grinned up at the young whore, who forced a laugh and stared at Karis with open hostility.
‘I want you to tell me everything you can remember of your father’s stories concerning the Daroth. Everything!’
‘Can this not wait until the morning?’
‘No, it cannot,’ said Karis. The young whore, sensing her payment receding, leaned forward, her face showing her anger. But before the girl could speak Karis drew her dagger and slammed it point first into the table. ‘One wrong word from you and I shall cut your tongue out,’ she said, her voice icy. The whore’s painted mouth dropped open, fear replacing her anger. ‘Now go away and find another client,’ said Karis. ‘There are plenty to choose from.’
The girl slid from Form’s lap and moved away into the
crowd. Forin drained his tankard. ‘You have lost me a night’s pleasure,’ he said.
‘And saved you a dose of the pox, in all probability.’
Forin was about to reply when she saw him glance over her shoulder, his green eyes narrowing. Instantly alert to danger, Karis pushed back her chair and spun round. The young whore was approaching with two men. ‘That’s her! Pulled a knife on me, she did!’
‘That was a mistake, bitch,’ said the first of the two, a broad-shouldered young man with pockmarked features.
‘Not as bad as the mistake you are about to make,’ Karis told him, noting that the second man held a short iron club.
‘Is that right?’ he countered, lunging forward, his fist flashing towards Karis’s face. She side-stepped suddenly and, thrown off-balance, the man stumbled forward – to be met with a head butt that smashed his nose to pulp. He dropped like a stone. The second man grabbed Karis by the arm, hauling her towards him, but she spun and rammed her elbow into his chin. He staggered to his right, dropping the club. Karis took a step back, then leapt high, her booted foot cannoning against his face to catapult him back into the crowd. He fell heavily and did not rise.