Page 28 of Fortress of Snow

“This be the only key.”

John glanced around before finally saying, “I reckon we’ll take it.”

Mazy sighed in relief. She dared not give her opinion—John had made it clear that he would make the decision—but she was glad they had found a place so she could get some rest. There had been so much noise in the inn where they’d stayed the night before that she’d barely slept.

She and John carried their meager possessions up the stairs to their rooms, where there were two straw mattresses on the floor.

“We’re not sleeping on those.” John kicked the mattresses into the corner of the room. “Dirty things. We’ll go out and find some clean straw tomorrow.”

They laid their blankets on the floor. Thankfully it was a warm night. They did not even build a fire in the fireplace before falling asleep.

The next morning John told her, “I’m going to the Tower of London to check in with my commander. You can go to the market and buy some food.” He handed her a few coins. “Don’t talk to anyone. London has too many bad characters.”

“And you will return soon?”

“I don’t know how long this will take. But I’ll be back before nightfall.”

Mazy nodded.

Shortly after her brother left, she put on one of her older dresses, which shouldn’t attract attention, and set out to find the market.

At the bottom of the stairs she found herself in the back ofthe alehouse. Despite the early hour, she could already hear men’s voices around the partition in the main room. Opening the door to the outside, she slipped out into the narrow alley. Turning to the left, then left again, she was in the street at the front of the Swan.

The sun was shining, but dimly, through a thin layer of clouds. Still, it was good to be in the great town of London. She was awed by the number of people moving about, along with horses and donkeys and carts of all description. The street was dirt but it was hard-packed.

She saw the daughter of the owner of the alehouse, whom she’d been introduced to the night before, standing in the doorway of the Swan.

“Good morning,” Mazy said to her. “Can you tell me where I should go to find bread and cheese?”

“There’s a small market that way.” The young maiden—Mazy couldn’t remember her name—pointed down the street. “But it’s easy to get lost if you don’t know the way. I’ll show you. Come.”

The maiden hurried down the street in her bare feet, carefully dodging a pile of horse manure as she went. “What is your name?” the maiden asked.

“Mazelina, but I am called Mazy.”

“Mazy. I like that. My name is Roesia Sadler, but you can call me Ro.”

“Thank you, Ro, for helping me. This is my first time in London.”

“First time, eh? Is it just you and your brother? Is he a knight?”

“Yes, just us two, and yes, he is a knight.”

“Who was your father?”

“The Baron Wexcombe. He died. My older brother is the baron now. But he disowned me.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have told her that. She had only just met this girl.

“When did your father die?”

“Two months ago.” The sadness caused a sharp intake of breath. “I’ve been living with my brother John since then.”

“Two months. I’m sorry. If my father died I’d be all alone. My mother died when I was a baby, my father never remarried, and I don’t have any brothers or sisters, nor even any aunts or uncles.”

Mazy nodded. “My mother is dead too.” They smiled at each other, and Mazy’s heart swelled. Perhaps Ro would be her first London friend.

They arrived at the market and Ro showed her the best vendors for bread, cheese, dried fruit, and nuts.

“You should buy some of these pasties. They are the best.”