Katkin had reassured the girl, saying she would be back soon. Now, in the dining room of the inn, she angrily shook her head, trying to erase the picture from her mind. The ruddy-cheeked man beside her, dressed in the rough clothes of a farmer, kept trying to start a friendly conversation, so Katkin, in an effort to forget her unhappy errand, questioned him about the port of Scarfinda.
“Do many ships come and go?” she asked.
“Ay, they do, Marm,” he said, and his broad accent indicated he had come in from the country, probably for trade.
Katkin gave him a winning smile. “With so many ships they must have to keep records of all the ships and cargoes and suchlike. Where would I find them?”
He looked over at her, a little suspiciously. “Funny thing to be interested in, if you ask me.”
Kat
