Learning Curve
Alistair was impressed. For all her snobbery and narrow-mindedness, she accepted instruction and correction with grace. By the third day, she had learned to switch fairly quickly between her longbow and her dagger. She'd even gotten some "dangerous slash-y" moves down, as she called them. In any case, he no longer felt the need to watch her constantly in case she got overwhelmed. They'd all been protective of her during the close fighting, taking turns guarding her while she switched weapons and watching her back as she learned to use the dagger. If she'd noticed their efforts, she had neither thanked them nor complained. She did complain about the food, though. And her armor. And the weather. And the – dear Maker, what did she expect? Silk sheets and champagne? He laughed grimly to himself. Yes, well, she probably did. This was a rude awakening, no doubt, for the teyrn's spoiled daughter.
When they finally reached the tower, they met the witch. He watched Elaine from the corner of his eye and saw her gaping at the scantily-clad woman. When the witch addressed her directly, however, Elaine abruptly replaced her expression with a mask of formal politeness. The transformation was extraordinary. She turned to the witch and with an air of absolute calm found out exactly who took the documents, where they were, and arranged for the witch to take them there as well. Amazing. Perhaps he could learn a few things from her.