Brigid's leash

The Wellant Road followed the orchard that lined nearly its entire southern edge. It intersected but once, at Northbridge – the name given both to the old stone crossing and the inn at its northern end.

Merchants lined either side, maneuvering carts and horses between baskets of apples, cheap jewelry, and yesterday's bread.

On the southern wall sat a slight, straw-haired girl in a brown wool dress, bare heels swinging above the water.

A pair of ivories danced across her palms.

Took you long enough, she thought, as a knight came from the east on a tired grey horse. 

Conversation thinned as he passed. A woman pulled her son aside, someone spat behind him. Most simply scowled, then looked away.

The girl counted the pips.

People would likely receive you better if they didn't know. Perhaps you shouldn't wear it for all the world to see.

The insignia was marked plainly across his pauldron.

Then again, you surely know the penalty for concealing it. Six of one, I suppose.

One of the ivories scampered across her knuckles.

The knight crossed the bridge without noticing her. 

Of course, that was rather the point.

She knew where he was going. She knew what waited there and how much the man in Bellhaven had hated hiring one of his kind to deal with it.

What she did not know were the choices he would make between here and there.

She waited.

The inn door closed behind him.

As soon as he entered, the Oathbreaker dropped a silver piece onto the bar.

At a table in its furthest corner, the girl lifted a tankard of cider and watched.

Too much.

He knew it. The innkeeper knew it.

Still, it got him his supper.

The serving girl set his ale down hard enough to wet the table.

He didn't react. He was used to it.

Comparatively, she was almost considerate.

He was halfway through it when someone three tables over mentioned the Valissnír.

His head snapped around.

Thought that might get your attention.

He listened, asked a question, received no answer. He asked another.

Eventually, someone spoke.

Persistence. Good for you.

He glanced toward the dark windows.

"Room for the night?"

The girl was immediately annoyed.

Really? You're going to make us wait?

...

She was on the bridge again before sunrise.

Finally, he emerged leading his grey. The stable boy followed, scowling until a coin landed in his palm.

Well?

The Oathbreaker mounted.

West, his responsibility.

North, something other than.

He lingered at the crossing.

Which road?

The horse turned west.

Hmm.

Then the reins drew tight.

North.

The girl's grin widened.

Just as we'd hoped.

She hopped from the parapet and opened her hands.

The ivories fell, but made no sound.

Two red foxes landed upon the cobbles.

One shook itself. The other yawned, then looked north.

The girl skipped after the rider, and with a flick of her fingers, she beckoned.

The foxes followed.