Marika watched the man escorting her, unable to decide why he inspired her trust so readily. He had kindly eyes, and he moved with such restraint that nothing he did was alarming. There was a tranquility about his manner that coaxed her to relax in his presence.
His low voice was soothing, though, indeed, she could not understand what he said. She had grown accustomed to that, and found herself listening to the rise and fall of his words.
’Twas like music, the way this man spoke. Perhaps that was what entranced her, for Marika dearly loved music and had heard precious little of it of late.
She followed him around the building that was clearly Ibernia’s home, marveling at the gentle green beauty of the hills on all sides.
“Well, now, you would be hungry after all the journeying you have
