Chapter 111

HE'D THOUGHT he was pretty good at knife throwing--he'd spent many a night in various solitary camps entertaining himself with his rusty little dirk, after all--but it only took Wil a few throws to realize he was quite overmatched here. The knife Dallin had given him was perfectly balanced, not at all what Wil was used to. The people of the Weardas, extraordinarily generous with their welcome even after Wil had nearly crisped a few of them this morning, were equally generous with their advice.

The lack of suspicion was surprising. After all, Wil was obviously not of Cynewisan, and he was well aware of this place's history with Riocht. And this morning he'd been able to feel every chary thought that had gone through their heads. Now Wil felt none of it--only consideration and welcome.