The innkeeper's eyes grew less avaricious, but retained a speculative gleam. "Thot's good thinking, lad. You will need several of your own horses if you wish to become a huntsman, though. Well, den. Would you like a spot to drink?" He spread his arm behind him, gesturing toward a stacked collection of barrels along the inn's back wall. "I've beer, wine and hard spirits for the man who can stomach them."
"What I need is a loaf of bread or two and a skin of wine." Haim replied. "Then back on the road."
"I got thot, too, sure enow." The innkeeper paused. "You know, if you were pleased to wait a moment or two and bring in thot stallion, I know a mon, my brodder, who might trade you some large ponies more suited to a hunting mon. Beiter is always on the lookout for a goot breeding stud. He has some goot dogs, too."
"I'll fetch in the horse, you go and get your hostler. Tell him I've no use for dogs, though. Too much trouble getting' them proper trained and too much of a pain in the arse on the road."
Aelfric waited in a copse of trees south of the little hamlet of Candleton, holding Tangalion's bridle and wishing he could spend the night in the little town's inn. He had to credit Haim for his good sense, however. Two men, one of them obviously of the gentry, traveling with a warhorse would make an easy mark for Elderest's trackers. They would stand out in any crowd, and the people of this village, who probably saw few strangers, would easily remember them. Idly he rubbed the horse down, although he did not remove the saddle or blanket to do so.
A shadowy figure approached from the town, and Aelfric loosened his sword it its scabbard. The sword, too, would be memorable, for few people traveled armed with more than a belt knife in the Dunwater River Valley. No one but a nobleman wore a longsword such as this one. Still, he would not be parted from it. If need be, he could use it to earn his bread north of the Redwater River. The Duke of Northcraven was always looking for sellswords in his border fighting with the wild Auligs, or so it was said. With relief, he saw that the figure was just Haim returning.
Aelfric had given thought that the big Aulig would simply take the silver and desert him, although certainly by association Haim was in as much trouble as he was. He felt gratitude for the way the big ferryman had stood by him at the river, but Haim had a way of treating him like a spoiled child that Aelfric found annoying. He was accustomed to much greater deference from those not of noble extraction, especially those of Aulig blood. Haim's way of speaking to him as an equal shocked him. A part of him was pleased by the frankness of his companion's speech, however. Whatever faults the Aulig had, his plainspoken honesty was refreshing.
"I need the horse." Haim said without preamble. "I think the innkeeper and the hostler have a couple of fair ponies we can get in trade. They're all set to dicker me out of my silver, but if'n they see that horse, they'll likely not dicker much."
"I daresay." Aelfric replied, complaining. "This horse is worth a dozen fine ponies. Tangalion comes of a line of warhorses sired by one of the Brenwater Etalias. They furnish war horses to the godknights."
"Aye, that I can tell. Not the part about the Brenwater horses, but I can see he's got high breeding. He's also about the only fine warhorse this side of the Dunwater within fifty leagues. You might just as well hire a barker to walk around us tellin' them as is hunting you where you are. If we didn't need the ponies I'd as soon leave him in a pasture somewheres just to be rid of him."
"If you want to just buy the ponies, instead of trading him in, we could do just what you suggest." Aelfric offered.
"Aye, that's a grand idea." Haim' tone was contemptuous. "Because nobles' gold coin is so much less conspicuous than a noble's horse." He looked over what Aelfric was doing. "You can stop that rubbing him down, too. Them as is going to be trading with us don't need to know what a fine beast he is, see? The worse we make him look, the less likely they will figure him for your father's. It's too bad we can't make him out for a draft horse, big as he is. Any fool can tell he's never drawn a cart, though." Haim grabbed a handful of dust and threw it against the horse's withers. Tangalion snorted and half-reared in protest.
"I never thought I'd be dirtying up an animal before trading him." Aelfric smiled ruefully as he soothed the disgruntled animal. "It's not what I'd call good bartering." He picked up a handful of dust and imitated Haim.
"Well, it's as much to hide his true color as to make him look ill-used. They'll be lookin' him over in darkness, for I've allowed as how I've got to get to D'rut by tomorrow evenin' and don't have time to stay over. I'll have a sharp eye on their horses, too. It won't do us no good getting swayback nags out of the deal."
Gailus Candle knocked furiously on the back door of his brother's house. "Beiter, get out here, dom ye!"
"Ach, whot is it, Gailus?" A voice came from the darkness in the rear of the small cottage. "I've just got the kinder to bed!"
"Get ye those two beasts we got at last fall's market. I've a young man I've half talked into a dicker. He's got a stud horse and he's leaving south before morning."
"Dom ye Gailus, you know I can't sell those horses yet. It ain't been a year and a day."
"This mon ain't going to turn you over, Gailus. He's on the run, plain as day. I don't doubt the Lord of Diminios himself is after him."
"You think his title to thot horse is any better than what we got on these two?"
"I'm tellin' you it don't matter. If his stallion is holf as good as I think, we'll put him to stud for the year and a day op in Dailey's Meadow. No warder is going to search for stolen horses op there. Haven't we kept dem two horses half a year hidden and no trobble?"
"All right, den." Beiter Candle replied testily, although his growing enthusiasm for the swindle was beginning to show in his tone. "So long as he's nay headed west. Dem horses show up in Orrville and there'll be someone in the Blackhill over it, sure."
It was to Aelfric and Haim's good fortune, therefore, that they found themselves riding the rest of the night through on two fresh horses, with half a dozen loaves of bread, a full skin of wine and two fine cheeses thrown in for good measure. Although they didn't know it, Gailus and Beiter Candle were the two least likely souls in the Dunwater River Valley to report them to the manhunters of Elderest.
Chapter 11: The Entreddi Encampment
Tuchek swam the Dunwater River, holding his horse's bridle. There were those who said the Dunwater couldn’t be crossed in this fashion, and certainly it was not easy. By the time he floundered ashore, the current had pulled him two furlongs downstream in the darkness. He shivered slightly at the bitter cold of the water and spent a good quarter hour stripping saddle and bridle from his horse and rubbing the exhausted animal down.
His pursuers, and of course there would be pursuers, would be forced to travel either north seven leagues to the Silver Run barges or south fifteen leagues to the Root’s Bridge ferry -Tuchek was unaware that the ferry was out and would be for several days. He knew that they would not dare to cross the Dunwater as he had.
It took him nearly an hour to build a fire, for his tinder and everything else he owned had been soaked through in the river crossing. Once he had the fire going in the hollow of an elm some distance inland from the West Dunwater River Road, he stripped and spread his clothing in the branches near it to dry. His bay gelding took some comfort from the warmth, and once the saddle blanket was dry, he used it to further warm the animal. It was like him that he thought of his mount first, and it was only after the animal was properly cared for and ground hitched that he leaned over the fire to warm his lean, oft-scarred body. He was thankful that it was still too early in the year for horseflies or bloodmites to bother him much.
Sometime after the moon set he was awakened by the sound of two horses riding north on the road to the east of his redoubt. He had built his small fire carefully, shielded by the bulk of the tree from the road. He knew the riders could not see him, although he greatly doubted they were pursuing him. Still, he dried his sword and kept it ready to hand. It never hurt to be too careful. Thirt
y-seven years of hard living had taught him that.
"I smell woodsmoke." Aelfric's voice came out of the night and disturbed Haim, who was dozing as he rode.
"Some cottage nearby, probably. There's little farms and cotholds all along this road. Just be glad they ain't got a dog."
"How long do you think we can ride like this?" Aelfric knew it sounded like a complaint, but he tried to keep any trace of petulance out of his voice.
"We'll stop when the sky starts getting brighter, make a dry camp off of the road. We'll find a likely spot and hide out during the day so's no one sees us."
"Do you think the search will have gone ahead this far north?"
"Aye. You can bet them men of Elderest sent word up the eastern shore. They'll likely reach the Silver Run crossing by tomorrow night, but word will have gone ahead to be on the lookout for us. That's why I got you them clothes back in Candleton."
"You could have gotten something a little cleaner." Aelfric wore a loose-fitting tunic and worn hose that had recently belonged to Gailus Candle, and he was having difficulty adjusting to wearing the sweat-smelling garments. They had buried his clothing under a log a mile north of the hamlet. His sword lay concealed within a long bundle of oddments strapped to the rear of his saddle, the hilt within easy reach.
"You know the bit about beggars and choosers. You want 'em clean, go take a dip in the river. That's what all us lowborn folks has to do in a pinch when we han't got our servants to do for us." Aelfric could hear the smirk in Haim's voice, even if he couldn’t see the man in the predawn darkness. The horses knew each other, however, and stayed close together. They rode carefully, Haim in the lead, for he knew the river road better than Aelfric did.
Two hours later, both Aelfric and Haim were exhausted. Neither had slept -you couldn't really count nodding in the saddle as sleep- and both had been riding or walking continuously for nearly a full day. When the light was finally bright enough to see a decent campsite, they found it already occupied. Half a dozen large, garishly painted wagons surrounded a wide fire pit, and two or three big, savage-looking dogs began to bark noisily at their approach.
"Cart peddlers!" Aelfric exclaimed in disgust. "Let's get on before they try to rob us."
Haim looked at his companion in surprise. "What do you got against the Entreddi? They're as honest as other folks, and a lot less likely to tell anyone they seen us. We put our horses with theirs and no one will be the wiser."
"Hah! We put our horses with theirs and they'll say they are theirs. Everyone knows the cart peddlers will steal you blind in a trade, and we’re hardly in a position to call the warders."
"In a trade, mebbe." Haim's voice was indignant. "But it don't matter what everyone knows. I know they're good people, even if they do travel from place to place. I say we ask 'em if we can camp here and pasture our horses with theirs. Say what you like, I know they ain't no horse thieves. Besides, it’s getting light and there'll be folks coming up the road soon. The sooner we're off it the better, and we ain't likely to find no better place."
Jecha heard the two men talking, and she heard every word. It was part of her gift to know when to be and where, so she had walked to the river in the near darkness knowing full well that the two riders would be on the road when she returned with the wash water. She spoke from behind them, watching with some satisfaction as their heads turned in sharp surprise.
For several hours into the night she had sat at the capper's table and rolled dice, shuffled and drawn pasteboards and spilled the waters, but to no avail. The children's bone-rolling had been the only clue the parsimonious spirits had offered, and not even dreamwalking would reveal more than the dice had. That clue had been muffed by her own carelessness, and although it was no comfort to the children, the face slapping she'd given them bore no comparison to the guilt she wracked herself with.
"Good morning, travelers." Her voice cut through the silence and interrupted their conversation. She already knew that these two and one other would share the Entreddi fire this day, so she made no effort to avert what was bound to happen. Three men riding with death, a sword and the wagon wheel. "Please make yourselves at home in our camp."
A tall young man dressed in a poorly fitted tunic reached for a hat he wasn't wearing, put his hand back down self-consciously, and nodded a greeting. His dark hair was barber cut, and his facial features clearly Tolrissan. He was a hair taller than his companion, if not nearly as broad. "Good morning, madam. My friend and I were just passing through."
The big young man with the square peasant's face glanced at him sharply. His fingers were thick and his shoulders massive. His hair, square jaw and lack of facial hair marked him at least half Aulig. "But we'd be glad to share our breakfast with you." Inwardly she smiled at the conflict between them.
"Not too scared of an old cart peddler stealing your horses?" Her voice was not gentle, but she favored them with a broad and knowing smile. The Tolrissan had the decency at least to blush.
"So you heard us, seemingly." The peasant smiled. "Then you know my friend here is the suspicious one. I been in Entreddi camps before and always come away better for it." He dismounted and gathered the reins of his horse. He stepped forward and bowed slightly. "I'm Haim O’Dunwater, ma'am. This here's my friend Aelfric."
The Tolrissan shot him a warning glance.
"It is all right, Aelfric." Jecha reassured him with a mysterious smile. "You may use your real names here. We will tell no one that we have seen you. That is provided you share breakfast with us. You may even find that you desire to stay with us for a bit longer."
"It seems we have little choice, madam." Aelfric replied, dismounting wearily. It was plain that the young men -to ancient Jecha they seemed little more than boys, really- had been riding all night.
"You are weary. Come and spread your blankets within the wagon's circle. You should sleep before the other comes."
"What other?" Haim asked. His accent carried a strong flavor of Pulflover, maybe some Flana. Jecha seriously doubted he was from Dunwater. His pitiful attempt at deception made it obvious that the boys were on the run and in trouble. She did not know whether that boded well or ill for the Family Haila, but it made her position slightly stronger with them.
"Never mind about the other." She ordered. "It is given to me to know many things, but all must be revealed in its own time and fashion. Come and lay by the fire and forget your difficulties. I promise you will lose neither your horses nor your gold to us, and we will not try to talk you into a trade." Again the knowing smile, and again Aelfric blushed to the roots of his hair. The cut of his hair and manner of speech marked him as of the gentry, and Jecha noticed the longsword poorly hidden behind his saddle.
Jecha was naturally observant, of course, for she was the family's storyteller and reader. To strangers she was an Entreddi fortune-teller, and even when the bones were silent she could always come up with enough detail about a person to seem uncannily accurate. At the age of ninety journeys the bones were more often silent than not.
Tuchek roused himself at dawn, despite the lack of sleep and exhaustion of the night before. His was a discipline of long practice, and he had risen with the sun so often that it scarcely seemed he could sleep late. He did not attempt to conceal his weapon, for although on this side of the river it might cause him some trouble to be seen with it, he felt it was better to face the world as he was. He smiled grimly to himself. That was Thimenian thinking, a bad habit he'd picked up soldiering with the raiders of Tarkosk. No free Thimenian older than ten summers ever went unarmed, and they liked to fight more than anything else.
The horse was dozing on its feet, having already cropped all of the grass within the narrow circle permitted by the ground hitch. Tuchek woke it with a handful of fresh grass pulled from the base of the tree where his fire had been. He kicked dirt over the fire and took pains to conceal where it had been.
He broke camp efficiently and swiftly, careful to brush over his tracks and conceal the fact tha
t he'd been there. It was unlikely that any tracker from east of the river would find his camp, but he was always cautious. A woodsman's habits died hard, even in the well-settled Dunwater River Valley.
He rode north without pondering the decision overlong. Southward lay only more settled regions, and it was likely that the Baron would think to find him there first. To the west lay Orrville, and Tuchek had seen enough of the prison duchy to know he had no desire for it. In Silver Run he could lose himself among the drifters and cattle rousters for a day or two, then he could strike out for the northern crossing of the Dunwater at Brenwater Commons. He doubted that the Baron would bother to search that far north for him.
Curiously, he could think of no reason for Baron Brego D'Tarman to be displeased with him. He'd done the Baron's dirty work from time to time, but he'd deliberately avoided any offense to his patron. It was odd, too, that the men in Alidis had come to arrest him. At first, he had assumed they meant to kill him, but the highborn with the slow sword hand had clearly ordered him taken alive. Not that the order had given him any pause in killing them.
The odd thing was that if Baron D'Tarman had wanted him taken alive, he could have simply summoned him to Pulflover and held him there. It was not as if Tuchek would not have come. He was, after all, under the Baron's orders, even if most people didn't know it. The whole incident at the inn in Alidis bothered him, not because of the violence, but because of the poor sense of it. He could scarcely imagine a more poorly executed attempt at a kidnapping. Idly he considered half a dozen better ways he himself could have done it.
To his left, about a furlong off of the road, a stream of smoke rose. As he neared the smoke, he saw a faint track leading in the direction of the smoke, then he saw the wagons that had made the track. Painted brightly in garish reds, yellows and cobalt blues, the wagons could only be Entreddi. When he saw the colors of the lead wagon, bright yellow trimmed in red, he knew who they were. He rode to their fire with confidence.
War of the Misread Augury: Book One of the Black Griffin Rising Trilogy Page 9
