Chapter 6: A Very Small River

Seravelle chose the boat because nobody could mistake it for a sensible route.

It lay upside down beside a fishing hut.

Caedrin looked at the narrow river, then at the empty hull.

"There is a bridge," he said.

She followed his glance toward the solid stone crossing downstream.

Three women were walking over it with shopping baskets.

"Othriel will expect the bridge," she replied.

"Othriel is retrieving a horse from a bakery."

Seravelle set her rolled banner on the grass.

She gripped the boat's rim and tried to lift it.

Water sloshed somewhere beneath the inverted hull.

Caedrin bent beside her, his hands clear of hers.

"May I help?" he asked.

She nodded, and together they turned the little boat upright.

A large hole occupied the space where she would have sat.

Someone had planted mint in the damp earth beneath it.

Seravelle looked at the flourishing leaves, then at her knight.

"We would smell pleasant when they found us," she said.

He crouched to settle the boat back over its little garden.

"The fish would appreciate the effort," he told her.

She picked up her banner before the wind could take it.

The river looked narrow enough to cross without a boat.

Round stones made a tempting line toward the opposite bank.

Caedrin watched her take one cautious step onto the first.

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