"Traveling." He briefly considered telling Perd the truth, but he didn't know this man, didn't know any of them. "A pilgrimage."
"Any god in particular?"
"I'm under a vow not to talk about it."
"But you can claim you're a pilgrim?"
Landeth nodded.
"And if I guess right, can you let me know?"
Landeth grinned. "No."
"And I was looking for a game of Questions." He frowned good-naturedly.
The burly woman brought him a loaf of dark bread with the center scooped out to make a bowl. "Here you go, sire."
"Sir," he said. "I'm not your sire."
"You're not old enough for one thing," said Perd. She looked scandalized, then punched Perd in the shoulder.
"Sorry, sir." She bent down to pick up an alegoose that had fallen from her apron when she punched Perd, and began to polish it with her apron. "Your secret's safe here, sir."
"Of course," Landeth said, without knowing what she meant.
"Perd!" called one of the other men. "Your turn. What's your story?"
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