The crowing of a rooster broke the gray afternoon, making him jump. He wondered suddenly if he had completely miscalculated. Tilled earth, chickens, sheep, goats, pigs… this island could support a substantial settlement. “Hurry up,” Saylah snapped.

At the door of the cottage, she got in front of him. Once inside, she swooped up a lustily bawling baby and hugged the child to her, still keeping her knife at the ready. “Sit down,” she ordered him.

He sat, looking curiously around the room. The furnishings spoke of folk with more time than skill. The table, the chairs, the bed in the comer looked like the work of their own hands. Everything was sturdy if not elegant. It was, in its own way, a cozy room. A small fire burned on the hearth and he found himself grateful for the warmth after the chill day. The baby quieted in his mother’s arm. The woman began the universal rocking sway of women holding children.

“You have a nice home,” he said inanely.

Her eyes widened in confusion. “It’s good enough,” she said grudgingly.

“And better than many another place we’ve both been, I’m sure.”

“That’s true,” she conceded.

He put on his best Bingtown manners. Small talk while they waited for the lady of the house. He tried to sit as if he had confidence in her hospitality. “It’s a good place to raise a boy. Plenty of room to run free, lots to explore. Healthy as he looks, it won’t be long before he’s ranging the whole island.”

“Probably,” she conceded, looking down for an instant at the baby’s face.

“He’s, what, about a year old?” Brashen hazarded a wild guess.

It brought a smile to her face. “Scarcely.” Saylah gave the baby an affectionate bump. “But I think he is big for his age.”

A sound outside the door brought her back to alertness, but Brashen dared to hope he had disarmed some of her distrust. He tried to maintain a relaxed posture as Ankle thrust her head into the room. She glared at him and pointed. “Raider. Liar,” she asserted furiously.

“Ankle, go outside,” Saylah ordered her. The younger woman stepped back, and Brashen heard an odd muttering from outside the door. When an older woman entered, a glance told him that she was the one he sought. Kennit had his mother’s eyes. She tipped her head inquiringly at him. She carried a basket on one arm; wide-capped brown mushrooms glistened inside it.

She made an inquiring noise at Saylah, who stabbed toward Brashen with her knife. “He showed up, coming from the cove, with six men. He says he has a message for you from Kennit. But he asked for you as Lucky’s widow, the Ludluck woman.”

The older woman turned an incredulous gaze on Brashen. She raised her brows in an exaggerated gesture of surprise, and muttered something. Her lack of a tongue was not going to make any of this easier. He glanced at Saylah, wondering how best to proceed. Paragon had told him to be honest, but did that mean in front of witnesses?

He took a breath. “Paragon brought me here,” he said quietly.

He should have been prepared for her shock. Kennit’s mother staggered where she stood, then gripped the edge of the table. Saylah uttered an exclamation and stepped forward to steady the old woman.

“We need your help. Paragon wants you to come with us, to see Kennit.”

“You can’t take her off the island! Not alone!” Saylah cried angrily.

“She can bring whoever she wants to bring,” Brashen said recklessly. “We mean no harm to her. I keep telling you that. I am here to take her to Kennit.”

Kennit’s mother lifted her face and stared at Brashen. Her mild blue eyes pierced him with their acuity. She knew that no one who mentioned Paragon came from Kennit. She knew that whether or not he intended harm to her, he would be taking her into danger. Her eyes were the ancient eyes of a martyr, but they met his steadily in a long look. She nodded.

“She says she will go with you,” Saylah needlessly informed him.

Kennit’s mother made another sign to the woman. The tattooed woman looked stunned. “Him? You can’t take him with you.”

Kennit’s mother drew herself up straight and stamped her foot for emphasis. She made the odd sign again, a turning motion of her hand. Saylah looked hard at Brashen. “Are you sure she is to bring whoever she wants? That was part of the message?”

Brashen nodded, wondering what he was getting into. It was too dangerous to contradict himself now. He met the older woman’s eyes. “Paragon said to trust you,” he told her.

Kennit’s mother closed her eyes for an instant. When she opened them, they swam with tears. She shook her head fiercely, then turned away from him to Saylah. She gabbled away at her, punctuating her noises with hand signs. The other woman frowned as she translated. “There are a few things she has to gather. She says you should go back to the cove, and we will come there.”