When they emerged from the room with saddlebags over their shoulders, it was clear that Mirram had expected some kind of argument. Koe gave her his warmest, brightest smile and hefted the sitar with one hand. She said nothing, and did not try to stop them, or to encourage them gone. She only shooed the stableboy with one hand. Urging him to go and guide their horses out of the stable most likely. How quickly the horses appeared would be a good indicator of whether or not she'd had the horses ready to go to await their arrival. Koe would not blame her for taking such a step, but if she did, he would at least know that she meant what was said.
There would be that, at least.
Cold mountain air did greet him as he exited the fine premises. Her deck was creaking beneath his boots as he moved past the bench, upon which sat no one, and crossed to the stairs. A turn to his left revealed the boy was already leading their horses out of the stable. Koe's fingers traced the pattern of green embroidery on his coat with a thinly-concealed smile. Mirram had their horses ready at dawn, he'd wager, and they would both need a rubdown for all the time the saddle spent clinging to their backs. Koe's coat felt overlong for the weather - it reached down to his knees, or nearly so - but the gloves he wore were absolutely necessary, as much to keep his hands moist as to keep out the cold.
Those gloved hands were rubbed together.
"Well," Koe asked her. "Where do you think they keep provisions for the road?"
"You," Mirram's accusatory voice said from behind him, as good as a stabbing finger for naming him thief and wastrel. "Cannot shop here. Leave in the morning - that was your bargain."