"I spent a few years helping a hedge witch gather herbs," Vahanian said off-handedly. "You learn things."
Carina looked at Vahanian, meeting his eyes as if she were trying to read his thoughts. "Who are you… really?"
Vahanian recognized the question. It was the same loaded query he had tossed her way alter the slavers' rout in the Ruune Videya. Something in her eyes made him take the question seriously. He ran a hand back through his long, dark hair.
"Why do you care?" he asked quietly, refusing to look away.
"Because the answer matters."
"It's a long story."
"I don't think I'm going anywhere." She closed her eyes and sank back against the couch. "I saw you once, when we were at Westmarch, down in the forge. You handled those blacksmith's tools like you were born to them. For a merc, you've been a lot of strange places. So I'll ask you again-who are you, really?"
Vahanian took a long breath and looked toward the fireplace, unsure how to answer. Finally, he drew up a chair and sat down. "My mother was a weaver and my father a blacksmith, up in the Borderlands, near enough to the Northern Sea that the ship captains and the traders gave us good business. I started working in his forge from the time I was old enough to carry the tools. We made a good living."
"But you didn't stay."
"When I was fifteen, raiders came. We made too good of a living, I guess. My father died trying to help hold the gates. I grabbed his sword and tried to protect the forge, but I was just a kid. First time I got stabbed," he said ruefully. "When I came around, it was over. The village was looted, half of it burned. My mother and brothers were dead. I tried to get help in the next village, but I didn't make it through the woods."
"What happened?'
"The hedge witch's daughter was out gathering herbs. She found me and dragged me home. Guess I gave them a scare," he chuckled sadly. "After I healed up, they apprenticed me to their village blacksmith. A few years later, I married the hedge witch's daughter."
Carina said nothing, but her gaze made him look away, back to the fire. "There was a late spring that year, and the sea captains didn't stop at our port. Money was tight. I started pulling old relics out of the cave tombs-gold and jewelry and rare wood- and selling what I could find to traders just to get by. Then one night, after Shanna and I had been married about six months, a mage showed up, and wanted me to find him a relic." "Arontala?"
