Damn. She’d apparently made good time, and the town she’d planned to stay the night in looked like it might have been the one she had passed a few hours back. It was more run-down and poor than she’d expected, and there had been no marker with the town’s name. The next town was the village nearest Estun, but it was several more hours. She could ride into the darkness and arrive dubiously in the dead of night, or she could turn back. Or she could simply camp here.

They could sleep out in the open, but the rain made a fire difficult, as everything had been soaked through for hours. She had some tricks up her sleeve, but this journey could have many more days… She didn’t want to pull them out just yet.

She shook her head and folded the map back up in disgust. She didn’t want to go back to the sad little town, but it was better to be more rested. She would need every ounce of energy she could muster; an inn would let her keep more.

She closed the pack up tightly and folded the tarps. Time to head back.

Darkness had fallen as she neared the town, and she stopped on the road before it, considering. Should she transform to keep any unwelcome attentions away? She didn’t look rich, but she didn’t look poor, either, and while she had no delusions of beauty, she wasn’t repulsive. Maybe she should be.

Quieting her thoughts, she calmed herself, centering, concentrating. She reached out through every little hair and fingernail and inch of her skin, feeling her body pulse with life, with blood coursing energy through her veins. She pictured a woman, older but not frail, with weathered skin, a gigantic misshapen nose that had been broken a few times, heavy eyebrows, thin, judgmental lips…

She could see the change first, then feel it swell within her. Useful as air mages were, let’s see them do this. When she opened her eyes again, unfamiliar eyebrows weighed her expression down. Her hands were appropriately wrinkly and callused. She couldn’t see her face, but she ran a hand over her it to check her work. Two eyes, a nose, and a mouth—nothing missing. Unfamiliar. Close enough for her.

She rode into town and found the inn, the only building with a light still burning. She tied up Kres outside—not because he needed it but because people would expect it—and she strode inside.

As the door shut behind her, all eyes in the inn’s main room turned toward her. Not exactly the mind-your-own-business type of place? Great.

She turned her fresh, ugly face toward the innkeeper near the door and scowled at him. “A room,” she demanded. “How much?” She had a lovely, gravelly voice to match, too, she discovered.

“Thirty silver,” he said, eyeing her suspiciously. The room was awkwardly quiet, as if half the drunken townsfolk were listening, and only a few were actually having conversations of their own.

“Twenty,” she shot back, cold as ice. “You’d rather your rooms stay empty?”

“Twenty-seven. You’d rather sleep in the rain?”

She turned on a heel and headed for the door, bluffing.

“Fine, fine, twenty-six silver!”

She stopped as if considering.

“Twenty-four,” she replied. He glared at her, but gave a sharp nod. She produced the necessary coin, a fair price. She only haggled because she knew he’d have believed her a fool if she hadn’t. He took the coin, led her to her room, lit a candle with his own, and handed her the key.

“The girl will be up to light the fire shortly, so leave the door open till then.”

“Do you have a stable for my horse?” she asked.

“If you stable it yourself.” She nodded. “Around the back.” And he was gone. She headed back down the stairs to find Kres and get him a warm, dry place of his own to sleep.

She led him around the back of the inn, softening the sound of their steps to near silence, and listened hard for any kind of foul play. She could feel no one in the vicinity, not even a stable boy. Must be a small town if they didn’t even guard their horses.

And for someone in need of a horse, this was an excellent opportunity.

She opened the broad door heading into the stable, and the smell of dirty horses and manure hit her like a punch in the mouth. She groaned. “This won’t be the most luxurious night, but it’s better than the rain,” she told him.

He huffed. We’ll see about that, he retorted. She laughed to herself. Hearing the thoughts of all creatures was one of the conveniences of her type of magic, although she tended to avoid it. She did not want to hear the thoughts of most people most of the time, and to dip in while a person was unaware tempted madness at the roiling layers of thought. But she was close with Kres. She knew when he might have something to say and when he wanted her to listen by the flick of his ears and the way he swung his head at her.

She led him inside to a stall on the far side of the stable. The smell was less strong here, and the stall was fresh and unused, so at least it was clean. She took some grain from her pack for him, found some stable brushes, and got to grooming.

Exhausted as she felt, soaked from the rain, she loved grooming him. She loved caring for horses, but she could always feel Kres’s satisfaction and pleasure more clearly. She took off his saddle; she would take that to the room to lock it up. She took off the saddle blankets, shook them out, and laid them over the stall wall to dry, at least a little. Then she cleaned each hoof and began her brushing. Kres’s ears twitched, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, enjoying her attention.

Eventually, she left him to eat his grains while she explored the stable. There were five horses, saddles next to three of them. The other two must be the innkeeper’s. She sent a tendril of her magic toward them, sensing their temperament and intelligence.

A gray one caught her eye. She was a wildish mare and lacking in grooming. Miara took the brushes and headed toward her.

The mare stomped and snorted in excitement, and Miara went to work on this new horse as well. The lovely mount desperately needed it, and as Miara worked, she listened to the horse as closely as she could. The girl was happy to have some attention, pleasant, willing.

What’s your name? she whispered to her.

Cora, the horse whispered back, timid.

Would you like to come with me, Cora? Would you like to go on an adventure?

The mare shifted back and forth and stomped a foot, and Miara grinned.

After four days, Aven felt quite sure that if the Takarans knew anything about his magic, they were remarkably coordinated at hiding it. That, or they didn’t know.