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Kell's arm until she found her balance.

  "From riding astride?" Kell remembered that women only rode horseback on sidesaddles in the Province.

  "I don't think so," Shanya replied, considering. She rubbed her leg. "No, I believe it's more likely from all the walking and running. I've been traveling two days now, you know."

  "No, I didn't know," Kell said, although she'd guessed such a frail-seeming young girl couldn't have been running for long. "Will you be able to stand on your own? I need to see to my horse."

  Shanya nodded and released Kell's arm, standing unassisted while Kell put Cinnamon into a stall.

  Kell fell into the familiar routine of caring for her horse, hindered little by the pain in her shoulder. Off with bridle, saddle, and light horse ar
mor; hang gear carefully on appropriate racks; groom horse. . . She was in the process of rubbing Cinnamon down, humming softly to herself, when Shanya spoke up and brought her back to reality.

  "You seem to get along well with your horse."

  Kell nodded, then realized the girl probably couldn't see the motion, as she stood on the other side of the tall Great Horse. "Yes, she and I have been together for a long, long time. We know each other well."

  "I've never known a horse at all," Shanya said wistfully. "My family had them, of course, but young ladies are never encouraged to fraternize with livestock."

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Kell said, ducking under the mare's neck. Shanya stood at the mouth of the narrow tie-stall, every inch a lady despite her bedraggled appearance. "Horses are wonderful creatures. So are a lot of other animals." Kell patted the mare's neck and hung the now damp rubrag on a hook made for that purpose. The mare ignored her, focusing instead on munching her way through the generous armload of hay in her manger. "Well, that's taken care of. Let's go inside and get you cleaned up too."

  She started to hoist the saddlebags containing her personal gear over her injured shoulder, then thought better of it. Why strain herself unnecessarily? "Shanya? Would you mind?"

  Shanya looked puzzled. Kell held the pack out to her. She gazed at it for a long moment, then comprehension dawned. "Oh! You want me to carry it! But—"

  She stopped, swallowed hard, then took the saddlebags.

  Kell led the way to the inn's main entrance, slowing her normally vigorous pace out of deference for her companion. Inside the door, she looked for a familiar face. Seeing none, she gathered a deep breath into her lungs and let loose with her best imitation of an angry bellow. "Innkeep!"

  Shanya flinched away from the yell. Two people, concentrating on their dinner, barely noticed. Then a noise of banging and swearing emerged from the kitchen, followed by a tall, red-faced woman wiping soapy hands on a battered apron.

  "Kell!" The innkeeper's face lit with a huge smile and she crossed the room to greet the Ranger with a tight embrace and a solid kiss on the lips. "Kell! You've been away so long!"

  After another kiss as solid as the first, she pulled away from the grinning Kell to peer at Shanya with bright, curious eyes. "And what's this you’ve brought, eh? Or should I say, who's this."

  "Maisie, could you be any wetter? You've soaked my surcoat!"

  "Oh, pish! I know as well as you do what the weather's been like these last few days, wetter'n wet and upsetting all the farmers with drowning out the harvest. I hear tell there's some of 'em out there with priests, even, praying over the grains, those as don't have that handy blowtorch thing the magickers came up with. Now tell me about this lovely lass."

  "The Ranger Kell rescued me," Shanya spoke up for herself. "I was. . . escaping from Shandar Province. I was caught and nearly returned to that dreadful place when suddenly a Ranger appeared, spouting Law in the faces of the retrieval posse."

  "That'd be our Kell," Maisie said, wrapping an arm around Kell's shoulders and squeezing.

  "Yes, well, we're in need of a bit of attention now, Innkeep," Kell said, shifting her sore shoulder. "A room, a bit of soap and some undisturbed time in the shower house? And if you've got it, some willowbark, both tea and powder. I'm out."

  "Here now, who's hurt?" Maisie released Kell and inspected Shanya more closely. "Not you, missy, not that I can see. Kell?"

  "Shoulder," Kell said, rotating it gingerly. It hurt. "Nothing much, just a bit of a jab. Those bastard Provincials and their scrawny little pigstickers—er, sorry, Shanya."

  Shanya looked more concerned than offended. "Why didn't you say you'd been hurt?"

  "It's not much, like I said. My mail's intended to stop broadhead arrows, not those ridiculous little pointy things."

  "Right, then, off you go," Maisie said. "Kell, take your usual room, and when you're back down I'll have soap for you. Shower house will be free until about an hour from now, so no real hurry."

  "Wonderful. Thanks, Maisie. Will there be food afterwards? Poor Shanya hasn't eaten in two days."

  "Food!" Maisie threw up her hands in consternation. "Yes, but only if I get back in the kitchen right now. I'd nearly forgotten supper."

  "Well, then, don't just stand here," Kell grinned, shoving her old friend towards the kitchen. "Get busy!"

  Kell set off for the stairs, Shanya following quietly behind with the saddlebags. The "usual room" was the second on the left, a smallish rectangular room taken up almost entirely by a bed with a deep feather mattress. A window above the headboard overlooked the stableyard. A predominately red rag rug lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. And best of all, from Kell's point of view, an armor and weapons rack occupied the corner behind the door.

  "Put the bag on the bed, please," Kell said, ignoring Shanya's flicker of annoyance. Out here in the real world, the girl was going to have to get used to being addressed informally and told what to do, that was all there was to it.

  Shanya dropped the saddlebags with ill-concealed relief. Kell rummaged through them, removing her loose sleeping shift and trousers, both made of undyed flaxen fibers. Then she found her towel, a luxurious linen affair she carried with her everywhere, and her brush.

  She tucked her possessions under her arm and looked at Shanya. "Ready?"

  "I believe so."

  "Come on, then."

  The shower house occupied a place of honor in the courtyard, closest to the back door of the inn and farthest from the manure and refuse piles. The outside shared the red brick construction of the inn, with slate tiles lining the inner walls and a floor of wooden slats worn smooth by thousands of bare feet over the annums.

  Shanya gazed at the showerhouse, with its weird arrangement of pipes and stoves and drains, with bewildered eyes.

  "I—forgive me, but what is this place? I've never seen anything like it."

  Kell blinked. "Really? Surely Shandar hasn't eradicated all of the Ancients' knowledge, have they?"

  "I know nothing of the Ancients, nor of this showerhouse," Shanya said, with dignity.

  "I'm sorry, I don't mean to speak ill of you or your culture, I'm just astonished. Did you at least have indoor plumbing?"

  "Yes, that we had. But this," Shanya gestured at the overhead pipes, "is completely unknown to me."

  "Ah, I see. Well. Easier shown than explained, in this case. The workings of the showerhouse are rather difficult to understand if you're not an engineer. I know it took me forever to figure it all out, and I only know how it works now because I had to help fix a broken one once. But enough talk, get undressed and we can clean up."

  Kell set to peeling herself out of the multiple layers of her working uniform. Blue woollen surcoat first, damp and redolent with the smells of horse, sheepswool, and harsh dye; followed, carefully, by ringmail shirt. She hung the mail on a wall hook and inspected the right arm critically. Yes, indeed, there was a tear in the leather, smack in the middle of one of the rings. Damn those rapiers, anyway, with their slender points. The damaged mail was followed by padded hood, gambeson, arm guard, linen shirt. . . she paused in the act of unlacing her boots. There were no other articles of clothing on the wall hooks beside her own. She straightened, scratching her back where she'd had an itch all day. "Shanya? Is something wrong?"

  "Not really," Shanya said, red-faced and frustrated. Kell smothered a laugh when she saw how the girl had contorted herself in an effort to undo her buttons. "I'm just not used to doing this without assistance."

  "Very well, then," Kell said, smiling, "I shall assist you."

  Still wearing her breast band, boots, pants, and underpants, she started to move Shanya's hair out of the way, then paused. "A moment," she said, reaching for her brush. "I'll detangle you first, so you don't catch a chill sitting around in your skin before the hot water warms things up. And let's sit on a bench. It'll be more comfortable for both of us that way."

  Despite the tangles and ground in dirt, Kell could see the remains of an intricate braided design. She started at the ends, treating the hair like a badly tangled horse tail. "How'd you ever manage—oh, wait, you didn't do this yourself. You Provincials and your 'dents." Short for indentured, the ruling class frowned on the term, but the 'dents themselves preferred it over "slave," a more accurate descriptor of their condition.

  "Our indentured folk were always treated well," Shanya said, spine stiffening, her tone cool.

  "Oh, I'm sure they were, and I'm sure they were all happy as little lambkins to be working for you day in, day out. I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, understand. It's just that most of the world outside Shandar Province doesn't think too highly