"It wasn't a threat."
His look said they both knew better. "I'm staying because you're correct that I could be recognized, and that won't help anyone." He closed the door. "I want to circulate some more, but I'll wait until after they leave. If Alvar's mercenaries don't get as many volunteers as they'd like, I'd not put it past them to impress young men into service." He crossed the tiny room and sat cross-legged on the sleeping pallet. "We'll be at the city tomorrow, and we need to discuss what we'll do once we're there. I know you wish to get word to Tyrus's mother and we'll figure out how to do that, but at first, you'll have to stay outside the city with Guin."
"So you won't leave her with your siblings?"
"I don't trust her not to simply flit off when the mood strikes. She's easily distracted."
"They aren't babies," she said carefully. "Aidra is six summers, is she not? And Jorn is ten? It's not as if Guin would turn her back and they'd wander--"
"No," he said sharply, getting to his feet. "All it takes is a moment, and I'll not entrust their lives to her care."
He walked to the door and opened it enough to peer through. Ashyn watched him, his shoulders tight, his gaze fixed outside.
She rose and walked over. "Guin would--"
"Shhh," he said. "Something's happening."
She caught the sound of raised voices. Ronan walked out, letting the door close behind him.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Ashyn pulled on her cloak and tightened the hood, making sure her hair was tucked in. Then she stepped out to find Ronan on the balcony walkway, his hands braced on the railing as he looked down at the collection of wagons below.
Beyond the wagons was an open area where people could take their food, sit, and talk. Now, the benches had been cleared aside. No one stood in the square, but people ringed it, as if something was coming and no one wished to miss the spectacle.
"A performer, most likely," Ashyn said. "An acrobat or a bard. I'd suspect they've been paid by Alvar's men to provide a distraction as the recruits make their getaway. Clever."
When someone finally entered the empty square, though, it wasn't a performer, but a warrior. Dressed in the colors of the imperial army.
Ronan swore under his breath. "Alvar's men picked the wrong settlement after all. There's going to be trouble, Ash. Get back in--"
He stopped. Then he cursed again. A second warrior had joined the first.
"That's the man who tried to recruit me," he said.
"The warrior?"
He nodded grimly. "Not one of Alvar's men, apparently. Back inside, Ash. Now. I don't know what's going on--"
Ashyn rose on tiptoes for a better view as the warriors herded a group of young men and women into the square. They were bound with hemp rope, like convicts. As the warriors propelled them--at blade point--one of the young men fell to his knees. Ashyn recognized him as the Northern merchant who'd hurried past them moments ago.
"This is a mistake!" the young man cried. "I never--"
One of the warriors raised his sword to the man's throat, but the first warrior--the apparent leader--waved the blade down. He unfastened the man from the rope, grabbed him by the hair, and dragged him to the center of the square. Protest rippled through those watching. An old man stepped forward, but one of the warriors stopped him with a wave of his sword.
The warrior in charge kicked the young man's feet out, forcing him to kneel while still holding him by the hair, suspended, his knees not quite reaching the ground. When the young man tried to rise, the warrior kicked him back down again.
"You were approached by a man recruiting for the traitor Alvar Kitsune. Do you deny that?"
Ronan's curse hissed in Ashyn's ear as he shifted uneasily beside her.
"I do not deny I was approached," the young man said.
"Then do you deny that an offer of recruitment was made?"
"No, but--"
"Do you deny that you accepted the offer?"