Kirin's mind was still reeling as they reached the town of Caernarvon[1]. The two guards at the gate seemed bored while they watched the slow current of farmers pulling their carts in, but they became alert as they spotted the strangers.
The younger one stared at Elinor in wonder. His mouth fell open, revealing a missing front tooth. Kirin just hoped he wouldn't miss more soon.
The older one just blinked at her, glanced at Kirin, then focused on Valerien. He took in the horse, clothes, and posture in one experienced look and inclined his head.
"What brings you to Caernarvon, lord?" he asked warily.
"We are just visiting the market," Valerien replied.
The man looked pointedly at their weapons, then gestured at Kirin.
"Your servant can wait outside with your swords until you and your… uh… lady finish your purchases."
Valerien's smile turned feral, and Elinor looked insulted. Kirin stepped in quickly.
"The lord and lady are guests of the High Warlock. I am escorting them to Ynys Mon[2] on his invitation. We just need some supplies, and then we'll be out of your hair," he improvised.
The older guard frowned at him. "Are you one of his witches?"
The younger one finally took his eyes off Elinor and said, "He's that Seeker who beat Prince Mordred in the archery competition on Beltane[3]."
The older one looked sceptical. "Used magic to trick our prince, did you, pretty boy?"
Kirin's temper flared, but before he could speak, a deep voice rumbled from above.
"I taught that boy archery, Finn. If you have any doubts about his skills, take it up with me."
A broad-shouldered man in worn leather stepped down from the ramparts. The guards jumped to attention and hastily made space.
Kirin exhaled in relief at the sight of the king's champion. "Owain!"
"I was starting to think you got lost in the woods," the warrior said with a grin.
He ruffled Kirin's hair fondly. Feeling embarrassed, the Seeker hastened to introduce his companions. Owain's dark eyes regarded them with undisguised interest.
"I am sure you understand that I cannot let armed strangers into the town. But if you allow, I will personally take care of your weapons. Kirin knows where my quarters are, and we can share a jug of ale when you have finished your business," he proposed.
"I will not hand my sword to anyone. I will wait outside," Elinor announced.
Owain inclined his head respectfully, but Kirin could see the lines around his eyes deepen in amusement as he spoke.
"Spoken like a true warrior. Then do me the honour and let me keep you company while you wait. My quarters may not be much, but they are still better than sitting in the dust and sun outside."
She looked him up and down, then asked, "What does it mean to be a king's champion?"
"The king's champion fights for him when someone challenges his authority," Owain answered readily.
She nodded thoughtfully and said, "I will come with you."
Kirin watched them walk away with the horses, then snickered as he led Valerien to the market.
"I've never seen Owain so smitten. They make for a splendid couple, don't you think?"
Valerien gave him a droll look. "You are hopeless, bard. Do you know that man well?"
"Yes. He is one of the High Warlock's sons. He brought me to Ynys Mon when I was little and had nowhere else to go."
"Is he a witch, too?"
"No. But he is the best warrior Gwynedd has and the best man I know."
"Is Gwynedd your king?"
"It's the name of this kingdom! Don't you even know where you are?"
Valerien waved that away as if that were unimportant and wrinkled his long nose in disgust.
"You can tell me more later, once we have left this unbearable stench behind."
Kirin thought it smelled like it always did in the summer. Despite the river breeze doing its best, the reek of sweat and unwashed wool mixed with the stench of dung from nervous sheep and horses.
"It's a market. What did you expect? Just wait until the milk starts to curdle and the fish begins to go soft," he told his companion.
"Not on your life," Valerien retorted.
He pulled a handful of coins from the pouch at his belt. Kirin blinked at the large, solid discs of gold.
"Do you need more?" Valerien inquired.
"Eh, no. I could buy the whole market with this."
"Then get the best horse you can find and hurry."
Kirin glanced from the gold in his hand to the tall figure pushing its way through the crowd and hesitated. He didn't know much about horses, but he was loath to admit it, so he just picked a docile bay mare that didn't look like she would bite.
The merchant's eyes widened at the sight of one of the coins. He bit into it suspiciously, scratched it, then smiled, declaring he would throw in a saddle and two bags of hay.
The mare followed obediently as Kirin searched the crowd. He spotted Valerien chatting to some women at clothing stalls. Baskets full of wild strawberries were dangling from his arms.
One of the girls said something with a shy smile, and Valerien threw his head back. The sound of unexpectedly charming laughter rose above the noise, drawing everyone's attention.
Kirin smiled despite himself. For once, the demon just looked like any handsome young man teasing blushing maidens. It was almost too easy to forget what he was.
Valerien glanced over his shoulder and beckoned him closer.
"I made a vow that I cannot get married until my friend here does. So you will have to find him a bride first," he told the women with a dramatic flourish.
The girls giggled and darted demure glances at Kirin, who felt his ears heat up under all the attention. He smiled at them but then caught the gaze of an older woman behind them.
He knew those cold eyes. It was Branwen, his old master's widow. His body tensed instinctively as she narrowed her eyes at him. Worse, it was clear she recognised him as well.
"Are you mocking us, young lord? How could we marry our daughters to such as him?" she asked Valerien in a cutting tone.
Kirin felt a flush of humiliation rise in his face. A drowning silence spread around him, and for a moment, he felt like a child again, completely at her mercy. He pushed the feeling aside with all the self-discipline of a decade of witch training.
Before he could think of anything to say, Valerien chimed in, "And what makes him unworthy of your fair daughter?"
"He was a slave before he was taken to those mad witches when he became one of them. His blood is doubly tainted," she spat out.
"So is mine, yet a moment ago you were eager to put your daughter in my marriage bed," Valerien replied with a strange smile.
The woman pressed her lips together angrily. None of her friends came to her defence. Her daughter blushed and gave Kirin an apologetic smile. He just stood rooted to the spot, wondering about that cryptic remark.
Valerien pushed the baskets into his unresisting hands and picked up a large pile of fabric one of the women had folded for him. He put it over the mare's saddle and handed her a gold coin before he turned to leave.
"But this is too much, lord!" she called out after him.
He glanced over his shoulder and winked at her. "Keep it. Maybe it will save you from being sold in marriage to a goblin."
"A goblin?" Kirin asked, finally catching himself.
"Like that one," Valerien said, gesturing at an elderly silversmith.
"You really are touched in the head. I don't care if you speak in riddles, but stop throwing gold coins around like that. Every cutthroat in this town will start following us," Kirin grumbled.
"Seems I got stuck with a nagging wife after all."
"I am not your wife!"
Even more people turned to stare at them, and the bard groaned.
"I can never show my face in Caernarvon again after today," he muttered.
Valerien just grinned and popped a strawberry into his mouth.
[1] Now splled as Caernarfon. A small town in Wales that used to be a Roman fort Sengotium.
[2] Called Anglesey today. Also known as the Isle of Druids in Pre-Roman Britain.
[3] Beltane is a Celtic Festival celebrated on 1st May to mark the beginning of the summer.