The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. But who would pay the ransom? There was no one left in his family. Ain’t enough as I’ve got militiamen quartered on me this se’ennight, lazing about all day, eating me out of house and home and drinking my liquor into the bargain. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume.
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