“Several ways.” She felt cruel to remind him that sorceri were so much less vulnerable than farmers to the weather; but his question had been direct, and she could not lie. “I will not ask for a meal today, old friend. I will have slippery enough walking even if I leave at once.”
She wrapped her long hair scarf-like round her throat and pulled up her hood. Out of consideration for the farmer, she would not begin to push the falling moisture away from her body until she was on the other side of his walls.
“You’ll have a hungry way, then, along with a slippery one. At least let me give you a cut of cheese.”
Yes, he knew how she loved the firm, golden cheese that farmers’ folk made in some way unknown to sorceri. She waited while he returned inside.
When he came back, he hesitated, the sl
