Chapter 84

Roy and Letho drew close to the wagons and found six people at their head: two young women and four men.

An elf woman with black-red hair wore a pale yellow silk blouse; her wrists were white as snow, her figure delicate and slim, her skin fine and pale, her features lovely and her ears pointed—undoubtedly the stunning beauty the robbed farmer had raved about, “Aveline.”

The other woman had a bronzed, healthy tan. Her build and bearing were not the usual shy, fragile sort; long thighs, a snug white leather jerkin that showed a well-filled chest, and a bold flash of exposed waist with faint abdominal lines—athletic and feline in shape. Her nose was strong, her features carried a hint of masculine vigor and ferocity. Most striking was a Mohawk-like crop of black hair, and mysterious tattoos by the cheekbones that left a lasting impression.

The four men were dressed oddly too, garments loud with color and cut in novel styles, unlike the plain villagers. Among them was a stout, bearded middle-aged man and a lean, reed-thin fellow with pale skin and an androgynous look.

They watched each other. The elf woman frowned at the intruders’ unabashed stares but did not take offense. The bronzed woman met him with keen interest and a wolfish, predatory light in her eyes.

“Ye two don’t look like locals of Shaerrawedd,” one of the six said as he stepped forward—a broad-shouldered man with a beard, about five foot six, face set in an amicable smile but eyes furtive with caution.

“You must be the Sea Scorpion’s Enigma troupe?” The boy returned a mild smile; his pupils glinted like stars, the Charisma Grant from Grace of the Wind apparent even in his gaze. “I’m a traveler from Lower Posada in the kingdom of Aedirn, on the far side of Mahakam. This is my uncle Letho; he hurt his leg on the road and is slow on foot. We heard villagers talking about you and thought to try our luck ... might you be willing to give us a lift?”