She stared at him. “More or less.”
Her stare was impenetrable. He shook his head. “When do
you think you might know? ”
“Soon.”
“And what if you decide I’m lying? What if you decide I’m
someone else? ”
She came forward until she was directly across the table
from him, until the blue of her eyes was so brilliant that it
seemed to swallow all the light.
“Let’s hope you don’t have to find out the answer to that
question,” she said. She held his gaze challengingly. “The
Whistiedown stays open until midnight. When it closes, we’ll
talk about what happens next.”
As she turned away, he could have sworn she almost smiled.
IX
^QEporgan spent the rest of the day in the kitchen with an
f I 1 old woman who came in to do the cooking but de-
LJLJI voted most of her time to sipping ale from a metal
flask and stealing food from the pots. The old woman barely
gave him a glance and then only long enough to mutter some-
thing undecipherable about strange men, so he was left pretty
much to himself. He took a bath in an old tub in one of the
back rooms (because he wanted to and not because Matty Roh
had suggested it, he told himself), carrying steaming water in
buckets heated over the fire until he had enough to submerse
himself. He languished in the tub for some time, letting more
than just the dirt and grit soak away, staying long after the wa-
ter had cooled.
After the Whistiedown had opened for business he left the
kitchen and went out into the main room to have a look
around. He stood at the serving counter and watched the citi-
zens of Varfleet come and go. The crowd was a well-dressed
one, men and women both, and it was immediately clear that
the Whistiedown was not a workingman’s tavern. Several
of the tables were occupied by Federation officers, some with
their wives ‘or consorts. Talk and laughter was restrained, and
no one was particularly boisterous. Once or twice soldiers from
Federation patrols paused long enough for a quick glance in-
side, but then passed on. A strapping fellow with curly dark
hair drew ale from the casks, and a serving girl carried frays of
the foaming brew to the tables.
Many Roh worked, too, although it was not immediately ap-
parent to Morgan what her job was. At times she swept the
89
90 The Talismans of Shannara
floor, at times she cleared tables, and occasionally she simply
went about straightening things up. He watched her for some
time before he was able to figure out that what she was really
doing was listening in on the conversations of the tavern pa-
trons. She was always busy and never seemed to stand about
or to be in any one place for more than a moment, a very un-
obtrusive presence. Morgan couldn’t tell if anyone knew she
was a girl or not, but in any case they paid almost no attention
to her.
After a time she came up to the counter carrying a tray full
of empty glasses and stood next to him. As she reached back
for a fresh cleaning rag she said, “You’re too obvious standing
here. Go back into the kitchen.” And then she turned back to
the crowd.
Irritated, he nevertheless did as he was told.
At midnight the Whistledown closed. Morgan helped clean
up, and then the old cook and the counterman said good-night
and went out the back door. Matty Roh blew out the lamps in
the front room, checked the locks on the doors, and came back
into the kitchen. Morgan was waiting at the little table for her,
and she came over and sat down across from him.
“So what did you leam tonight?” he asked, half joking.
“Anything useful?”
She gave him a cool stare. “I’ve decided to trust you,” she
announced.
His smile faded. “Thanks.”
“Because if you’re not who you say you are, then you are
the worst Federation spy I’ve ever seen.”
He folded his arms defensively. “Forget the thanks. I take it
back.”
“There is a rumor,” she said, “that the Federation have cap-