The sun islow by the time we reach the town. I stretch as I climb from the wagon and then call to Danver. I let him down, and he runs to the back of the stables.
I stare at the inn in front of me, shifting from one foot to the other, thinking.
“You don’t have money, do you?” Ergmin asks.
I bite my lip and shake my head.
The farmer tosses me a coin. “Don’t get yourself into too much trouble.”
“Thank you,” I call to him as he drives his wagon away.
The copper should be enough for a room and perhaps a meal if I’m lucky. A stream runs just outside the town, and I can drink from it even if I can’t afford food. At least I won’t die of thirst.
I push through the door. Several seated men take in my appearance, staring at my outfit with appreciation. I ignore them, curse Dimitri again for stealing my gown, and march to the woman behind the bar.
She eyes me and shakes her head. “I don’t want any trouble.”
I slap the coin on the counter. “I’m not from a traveling troupe, and I won’t be trouble.”
She snorts and scoops the coin up. “You won’t be turning my inn into a house of ill repute.”
I gasp, taken aback. “How dare—”
“That goes for the lot of you over there!” the woman snarls at the seated men.
They laugh and jeer, and she waves a rag at them, cursing them all before her eyes travel back to me. “If you’re not offering, girl, you should change your clothes.”
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t have anything else to wear.”
The woman clucks her tongue. “You have a story?”
I glance around the inn. “I got myself in a bit of a sticky situation, and now I’m trying to sort it out.”
“Hmmm,” she says. “My name is Inger.”
“Winnie,” I reply, using the nickname again. “Do you know of any festivals to the west of here?”
Inger narrows her eyes as she sets a bowl of stew in front of me. I’m so hungry, I dive in without any thought to manners.
“I thought you weren’t a performer,” Inger mocks. “Why are you looking for festivals?”
I gulp down half the bowl and then make myself slow down before I’m sick. “I’m looking for a troupe. They have something of mine.”
Inger thinks about my question. “There were many men who traveled through here on their way to the marriage tournament in Lauramore, but I would think it should be ending soon.”
Of course—Princess Pippa’s tournament.
“Do you know anyone traveling that way?” I ask.
Inger eyes the men. “None that I would send you with. It takes at least a week to travel to Lauramore anyway. It will be over before you get there.”
I chew my lip, thinking. Tournaments usually have a festival at the end. Perhaps Dimitri plans to attend that?
“What about Glendon?” I scrape the sides of my bowl with the spoon. “Is there anyone you know who will be traveling there?”
If I can make it to Glendon, surely I can find someone to take me the rest of the way to Lauramore.
Inger shakes her head. “You’re going to need to take a carriage. You have money?”
