Aliya had to admit it, it was certainly easier travelling with Jithro, despite his many personal unpleasantries. The going was slower than ever, for he insisted upon stopping thrice daily for food, and six hours every night for rest, but he also talked with good-natured ease to any passing travellers and managed to wheedle a free cart ride up to Barrowhurst just for smiling and asking nicely. He could be charming when he wished, but she did not trust him for all that.
Aliya found, to her astonishment, that she had fallen asleep in the joggling cart, there amongst the beets and turnips headed for market. She only woke when Bramble’s piercing screeching roused her.
“’S an odd name,” the farmhand upon the buckboard was saying to Jithro, the reins lying loose in his hands as the old beast p
