“What is it?”
“Your grandfather,” the girl whispered. “He looks poorly.”
The man is completely incapacitated, was almost out of her mouth before she realized the girl wasn’t a child fresh from her mother’s hearthfire. She obviously had the wit and age to judge things for herself.
“What do you mean, poorly?”
The girl shook her head sharply. “I don’t know and I daren’t speculate. I tend him, you see, and—” She looked around herself again. “Something’s amiss. More than the usual something.” She shifted uneasily. “There is danger in the house.”
Meera was grateful for years of not reacting to even the worst piece of gossip. It was all that saved her from panicking at present. She nodded, because that made her feel in control.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll see to it.”
The girl looked at he
