TWENTY-ONE
Molina rose and peered out the window. Ever since the morning Lubos left, she'd been watching for him. While she worked with Zimmerman, she'd managed to put him out of her mind for an hour or two at a time, but now she had the thread spinning wheel and spindle arrangement before her, she was terrified to try it. What if it worked? What if it didn't? This was sleeker, more polished than the simple device she'd imagined, but then she hadn't expected to have the services of a royal carpenter who made ornate carved chairs for his living.
She squinted at a horseman on the bridge, but he didn't look like Lubos. She'd ridden beside Lubos enough to recognise him on sight. Yet the carts coming through the gate were more numerous than usual, so they had to be the tithe. Where was Lubos
