“Worstowe,” Therin said. “Twelve farming families, an inn, a millinery shop, and a general goods shop. That’s it.”

“It reminds me of Endmoore, except a little smaller.”

“Yeah? I find most small villages are exactly the same. All of them full of nosy gossips because they have nothing else going on for them.” They entered the village square and Therin dismounted at the inn. He helped Alira down and she groaned with stiffness. They hobbled their horses and he leaned closer to her, muttering softly.

“I have to change first. I’m on official business and need to look the part.” He dug into his lace cuffed silk shirt and drew out his medallion, letting it rest on his chest. He motioned for her to do the same.

“You need to put your daggers away.” She looked down to her belt and then back to him. She nodded and tucked the blades into her bag and immediately missed their weight at her hips.

When they entered the inn, the taproom was empty aside from the round proprietor, ruddy cheeked and bald, who grinned broadly at Therin, his bushy moustache twitching as he beamed.

“Brother Therin!” he boomed and came around the bar to grasp Therin’s arm and pound him on the back.

“Halder,” Therin said, and Alira noted his sudden calm, the way he dimmed himself. He withdrew inward, somehow, letting pious quietude exude from his posture. He touched the medallion and bowed slightly. “We require a room for the night.”

“Of course, of course.” Halder glanced over Therin’s shoulder and raised his eyebrows in polite wonder.

“I’m on a mission. I’m escorting Sister Alira north and I wanted to stop and see my mother’s family.”

“Of course,” repeated Halder and he grinned again. “Take the top room, it has two beds.” He gestured to the stairs at the other end of the room. “I’ll have dinner brought up for you later this evening if you’d like.”

“Thank you, Halder. We need to wash and pray. Would you bring the Sister and I some water and soap?”

“I have some heating right now. I’ll send Josh up with it in a few minutes.”

Therin clapped Halder on the shoulder again, bowed slightly and led Alira up the stairs to a landing. They turned and went up one more flight of stairs to a door which opened to a gabled attic with two doors. One had a plaque on it that read “Storage” and the other led into their room.

“I’ll rearrange the beds so I’m closer to the door and you’re in the corner,” Therin promised. “I’ll also see if Halder has a dressing screen.” He tossed his bag on the closer bed and began unbuttoning his green and gold vest. Alira quickly strode to the other side of the room and turned her back to him.

A knock sounded on their door and Therin answered it, accepting the small basin of hot water, soap and two rough grey towels. He set it on the dressing table and gestured for Alira to use it first.

As she lathered the lavender soap and washed first her hands, then her neck and face, she wondered what it would be like if she were really there as a member of a religious order. Would she find sharing a room with the monk proper? Would she have sworn celibacy? Had he, for that matter?

She cringed away from the thought and shuddered. As she turned to go back to her side of the room, she caught his naked torso out of the corner of her eye and quickly looked away.

So very unattractive, is he? Henry teased.

Yes. she spat back and slammed down the barrier between them.

“What should I be wearing as a Sister? I’m afraid all I have are my old, dirty things and then the few things I took from Noran’s room.” As she talked she heard his bag rustle and a long brown robe landed on her bed. She picked it up and examined the roughspun cloth.

“We’ll both go in robes but I’ll have my mail shirt on over mine. Do you have one?”

“A what?”

“Mail shirt, or any other armour?”

“No,” she said as she took off her pack and slipped the robe over her head. It smelled like Therin’s sweat and fell to the floor, spilling over her feet. “This isn’t very clean,” she muttered.

“Afraid of a little sweat?” he goaded her as his footsteps came closer. She turned and he held out his mail shirt toward her. He was in a long sleeved pale cream undershirt that was nearly sheer. It fell to his hips and moved as he did. His white silk shirt lay on the floor, his vest on the bed. “Wear it. I’ll wear my leather jerkin under my robes.”

She took the shirt and was surprised by how heavy it was. It tinkled softly in her hands and slithered like it was made of liquid silver.

“Are you sure?” she asked as he tossed a few things onto the bed behind her.

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“Yes.” He helped her put the shirt on and as the weight dropped onto her shoulders she felt her posture change to accommodate the extra weight. It fell past her knees and the arms of it went nearly to her wrists.

“Here,” Therin said, stifling a laugh. He held his hands out to lift the edge of the shirt and stopped. “Do you mind?” She shook her head, holding her arms out from her sides.

He slid his hands quickly up the mail shirt and slipped a thin cord around her waist. He tied it and pulled on the skirt of the robe so that it wasn’t so long. He let the mail shirt fall and reached behind her to the bed and pulled out a thin leather belt with a tiny knife sheath attached to it. He quickly put it around her waist and took a step back to look at her.

“Female militant orders are rare but the church has one in Lightholde. They can’t become paladins but they are healers. Priestesses that help on the battlefield caring for the wounded.” He tapped his own medallion. “Keep it on display. I’ll re-apply the blessing and it will help reinforce your holy image.”

“I feel uncomfortable pretending to be a priestess,” she muttered, feeling like a child trying on an adult’s clothing. She thought Noran’s clothes were too big but Therin’s were just silly on her. She took out the coin on the long chain and let it hang down her front.

“And I look ridiculous.” she added but Therin was silent, his hands on his hips as he looked her up and down. He tilted his head, his lips pursed.

“I gotta fix your hair.”

“What?”

“A priestess wouldn’t wear it like that. You’d have it in a single braid wound around your head like a crown, with two smaller braids on the front. Here, I’ll show you.” He took a handful of hairpins out of his pocket and put them in his mouth, holding them with his lips as he worked.

He reached for one of her long braids and began undoing the plait. She undid the other and he spun her around and scraped it off her neck, his fingers sending chills down her spine as he brushed her skin. Deftly, Therin pulled two thin locks of hair from the front and braided the rest. He wound the hair around her head, pinning it in place and humming as he did. He turned her to face him again and braided the two locks in the front, lifting the ends and pinning them just behind her ears, leaving a long loop along either side of her head. They danced around her shoulders as she turned her head.

“Where did you get the hair pins?” She asked as he brushed a wisp of hair off her forehead.

“Mrs. Jones. I told her you were a priestess and would need them for ceremonial dress.” He took out a small hair comb from his back pocket and reached up and slipped it into the back of her crown of hair.

“And the comb?” She asked.

“It’s Sally’s,” he said shortly.

“And how did you get it?” she asked and watched for the blush to creep into his face.

“She gave it to me,” he said and cleared his throat. “In exchange for a kiss.” He added but no blush followed. She gaped at him in shock and blinked. He grinned and rolled his eyes at her.

“I gave her money for it, Alira.” When the young woman relaxed her shoulders a little he grinned again. “I’m a priest,” he whispered loudly as he adjusted her hair some more. “Or did you forget?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

He dropped his hands to her shoulders and eyed her with a critical look.

“Hood up,” he said finally and nodded after she had done so. “It won’t look too suspicious. You’d usually have a thin gold circlet across your forehead but if asked, you haven’t earned it yet.” He let his eyes fall down her face to her eyes, shaded by the lip of the hood.

“Thank you,” she said, uncomfortable under his gaze. He smiled at her, warm and open.

“My pleasure, Sister Alira.” He released her and strode to his own bed to dress. She sat on the edge of her mattress and watched him with interest.

As when they’d entered the inn, his demeanour was steadily changing. His movements were slower, less hurried. His voice was dropping in tone, losing its expressive chipperness. He began whispering his mantras as he donned the apparel of his order.

First, he took off his medallion and tucked it into his pack and then shrugged into his leather jerkin, which he had already removed from his bag. Then he pulled on his robe and this one was of much finer quality than the one he had lent her. The yoke of the black garment was embroidered in curling golden swirls, down the back, ending in a point at about his waist. The edge of the hood, not yet drawn up, was similarly decorated. He put a long gold cord about his waist, tying it in the front. As he turned to adjust himself, Alira saw that it had two long tassels that fell down the skirts of the robes. The bottom of the robes had a thin border of interlocking gold squares.

From the bed he lifted two leather bracers, slid them on over the sleeves of the robe and laced them, one at a time. He lifted his hood and straightened it with soft pulling motions. Slowly, with ceremonial deliberation, he picked up a long glittering chain off the bed and slipped it over his enshrouded head, letting whatever pendant it held rest on his chest. He sketched a prayer above himself and Alira felt her skin prickle. He turned to face her and the four pointed star around his neck swung pendulously on his chest.

He bowed to her and awkwardly, not knowing why, she bowed back. He chuckled softly and strode her to, his feet moving in quick, graceful movements. She saw no trace of the Therin he was just an hour ago.

“May I bless you, Alira?” he asked, lifting a hand. She paused before nodding.

The Light Guides,” he whispered as he pressed two fingers to her forehead. A bright, searing heat shot through her skin and down her body. Henry screamed and then let out a growl deep inside her mind.

Idiot! Holy magic doesn’t mix well with witches!

She had flinched from the heat and Therin lowered his hand slowly, his hooded eyes wide.

“No, it doesn’t,” he whispered in response to Henry’s silent words inside her mind. Before she could react, Therin pressed his fingers to her forehead again and whispered. The heat shot down her and inside her mind, Henry uncurled and bared his invisible teeth.

Hello, Brother Therin. I’ve been watching you.

Therin took his hand away, clutching it to his chest.

“Who is that?” he demanded.

“Do we have time to talk about this now or do you want to wait until we get back from talking to your uncle?” Alira resigned, knowing she would have no choice but to tell Therin most of the truth now.

He rubbed his hand and eyed her for a moment. The fervour behind his eyes faded and he seemed to shake himself.

“Yes, of course. Later.” He spun on a heel and glanced over his shoulder at her frowning. “But I think it’s time you talked.”