through it later or the folk of the village could. Her immediate plan was to return home, share the windfall and put a torch to the sorcerer's house of misery on the hill.
Once she had gathered all the treasures that she could manage, they left the Wisht at a trot. Dapplegrim didn’t suggest leaping into a flying run and Caewen was glad of it.
"How did you know?" said Dapplegrim, after a time.
"A few things. The heavily armed Wisht and their numbers. The lack of concern in the feasting hall—they weren’t worried about an attack. The position of the ruins, overlooking both the Wisht fortress and the approaching roads. But mostly it was how much I wanted to put on the crown. There was a voice, and it was screaming and singing and lulling all at once inside my head. Nothing that promises so many good things for free could possibly be honest." After a while she added, "You know, Dapplegrim, I’ve spent my most recent years hiding in a cellar, seldom looking at the blue skies, seldom feeling wind or sun and never thinking I’d ever see anything but the village and the hills and forests and that awful house on the hill."
"So now what?"
"We go home, let Mother and Father and my little brother know I’m alright, then tell them that Mannagarm will never return, and give everyone some of the gold and silver."
"Some?"
"Some. Most, perhaps. Maybe all of it, they’ll need it more than we will. Have you ever been to Bernoth Town? I’ve heard it’s beautiful, and busy and mad. A harpist who visited last winter said that there are fourteen towers overlooking a lazy river and there are willows all along the bank and a floating market ten times larger than our whole village."
"I see," said Dapplegrim. "Well, I have been stabled for a long time myself and it would be nice to get out and see the world again."
"Yes," said Caewen, "It will."
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