Well, she should ring for the bath-woman to take away the tub and go to her own quarters in the stables; there was plenty of hay to keep her warm, and blankets, and she could even command hot bricks and more blankets if she wished. She pulled on her breeches and rang for the bath-woman, and went, knocking softly at Caryl’s door. He was in bed and already half asleep, but he sat up in bed to hug her as if she were his own sister, wishing her a good night, and slid down, asleep already in the big bed. It was a big bed, big enough for three or four, she was tempted to lie down and sleep beside the child, they had slept curled up together often enough on the road. But she realized that he would be embarrassed if he found her there in the morning – he was just old enough to be aware that she was a woman. It would not matter so much, she thought, yawning and reluctant to go out to the stable, if she lay down to sleep a little – no doubt Orain would not return home before morning, and if he did he would be so drunk that he would not notice her there, nor care whether she was a boy or a dog; he would never know she was a woman, if he had travelled with her all this time and not known, and he had none of the inconvenient laran which had betrayed her to Caryl and perhaps to Dom Carlo.
She would sleep here a little, at least – she could wake and be away to the stable if she heard Orain coming up the stairs. The bed looked so good, after all this time on the road. The bath-woman, when she took the tub away, had warmed the sheets with a pan of hot coals, and they smelled fresh and inviting. Romilly hesitated no more, but lay down in her tunic and drawers, pulling up the covers and drowsing. At the edge of her mind, wary, she thought, I must not entirely go to sleep, I should go out to the stable, Orain may be coming back before I expect him … and then she was asleep.
The door creaked, and Orain, stepping quietly, was in the room, throwing off his clothes and yawning, sitting on the edge of the bed. Romilly sat up, shocked and startled that she had slept so long. He grinned at her.
“Ah, stay where you are, boy,” he said drowsily, “Bed’s big enough for two.” He had been drinking, she could tell, but he was not drunk. He reached out and ran his hand lightly across her hair. “So soft, you must ha’ had a nice bath too.”
“I will go now-”
He shook his head. “The outside door o’ the inn’s locked; ye couldna’ get out.” His voice was again overlaid with the soft low-country accent. “Stay here, lad – I’m half asleep a’ready.” He drew off his boots and outer garments; Romilly, rolling to the far edge of the bed, tucked her head down under the blanket and fell asleep.
She never knew what waked her, but she thought it was a cry: Orain tossed, turned over, cried out, and sat bolt upright. “Ah – Carolin, they will have ye’-” he cried, staring into the empty room, his voice so full of terror that Romilly knew he dreamed. She tugged at his arm and said, “Wake up! It’s only a nightmare!”
“Ah-” he drew a long breath and sanity came into his face again. “I saw my brother, my friend, in the hands of Rakhal, Zandru send him scorpion whips-” His face was still troubled, but he lay back down, and Romilly, curling her feet up, sought to go back to sleep. After a time, however, she was aware that Orain’s arm was around her, that he was gently drawing her to him.
She pulled away, frightened. He said in his gentlest voice, “Ah, lad, don’t you know how I feel? You’re so like Carolin, when we were boys together – red hair – and so timid and shy, but so brave when there’s need.”