Matt frowned. "Don't pick on the kid!"
"I didn't," Narlh snapped. "I was trying to be friendly."
The tears cut off, and the tyke turned to look back, wide-eyed.
"That's 'friendly,' for him," Matt explained. "Not quite the same as it is for you."
"Hey! Watch whose reputation you're slurring!"
"I thought I was improving it."
The bigger boy took a daring step toward the monster, then another, and another.
Narlh looked down his nose at him, then deliberately turned away.
The boy reached out and touched his flank.
Narlh ignored him.
The boy began to stroke the leathery hide, tiptoeing closer and closer to the front, a step at a time.
Narlh looked back, one beady eye transfixing the boy. The lad froze.
Narlh snorted and turned away again.
The five-year-old shrilled with delight.
Big brother sneaked another step or two forward.
Matt turned away from the game of peek-a-boo. "I didn't know he had it in him."
"He is very big," the wife said nervously.
"Yes, that's why I thought we might do well on guard duty. Why don't you folks just sit down and have a bite while we watch for you?"
"Bless you, kind sir!" The wife tottered toward the cart and sank to the road beside it, cradling the baby in her lap.
"Uh, I had in mind off the road," Matt said, eyeing the dirt strip as though he expected a Sherman tank to come clanking up. "Just in case, you know."
"Aye, aye." The husband reached down to help his wife up. "Just a few more steps now, Judy, there's my lass. Some open grass there, off the road a pace, aye."
Judy sighed, managed to rise, and tottered off toward the shade of a tree, leaning on her husband's arm.
There was an explosive snort followed by a trio of delighted shrieks behind him. Matt swung about, alarmed, but saw Narlh turned back frontward, nose in the air, too lofty to be concerned about what was going on around his tail. Matt smiled and turned to the cart.
From the tongue he had to lift and pull, he gathered the soldiers had gotten the family donkey, too.
He pulled the cart off the road and near the tree, where the wife was nursing the baby. Narlh ambled along, nose in the air. Matt wondered if he was really watching for an aerial attack. "Bless ye, kind sir!" The wife had a real smile on.
"My pleasure, I'm sure." Matt folded up cross-legged, facing the husband. "So you're bound for Merovence?"
"Aye, if I can come to those mountains!" the man said, exasperated. "They seem so close, yet ever do they retreat from me!"
"It's the clear air—it magnifies them so that they seem closer. I'd say you're still about two days from the pass at the top."
"You have come from there?" the man said, wide-eyed.
Matt nodded. "And I'd plan on lightening your load, if you can—some of that road is very steep, and it's all uphill."
The wife bit her lip again, and the husband said quickly, "We have brought little enough. What we have are things too dear to part with."
Matt just couldn't understand why married people seemed to acquire so many things that they couldn't bear to part with. Maybe it was because there were so many more of them.
He pushed himself to his feet. "Rest while you can. I'll send the kids over." He turned away to shoo the children from Narlh back to Mama. As they ran for the picnic, he muttered to the monster, "Never knew you were soft on kids."
"Hey, I think they look yummy!"
"Come off it. You were having as much fun as they were."
Narlh shrugged, with a rattle of wings. "Look, I missed out on it when I was a fledgling. A guy can try to make up for lost time, can't he?"
"I couldn't agree more." Matt glanced back over his shoulder—and saw the father carving a ham. His mouth watered. "They, uh—came well provided."
"Huh?" Narlh looked over, then turned away with a snort.
"Well, I thought it looked pretty good!"
"Each to his own," the monster said.
"Just what's wrong with it, anyway, huh?"
"It's not bleeding."
As he paced the circle on sentry duty, Matt reflected that Narlh must prefer his food still moving. When he said he liked fresh meat, he meant it. He gave the family about an hour, by the sun, then turned back to nudge the father. "Sun's past noon. You might want to get back on the road."
"Aye." The man sighed and forced himself to his feet. He reached down to help his wife up and called out, "Jorge! Cecile! Rampout!" The children left off playing hide-and-seek and came pelting back.
"Bless you for your kindness," the wife said, smiling, then suddenly dewy-eyed. " 'Tis good to know a few souls still act with charity."
"More and more where you're going," Matt assured her.
"I must trust in that." The father sighed. "We have no money and will have no farm. We must depend on kindness, now."
"No money?" Matt lifted his head. "Say...maybe we could strike a deal."
"Deal?" The father was instantly wary.
"Yes. I'm living off the land, see, and it's not exactly fat here."
"Aye." The wife blinked away tears again. "The soldiers..." Then she suddenly realized what Matt was saying. "You must take some food! We have more than we'll need to come into Merovence!"
"Judy," her husband said, uncomfortably, "we shall not find food in plenty, just for crossing the mountains..."
"Right," Matt agreed. "I couldn't let myself just take food from you—you're too apt to need it. But I could give you some Merovencian coins, and you can buy fresh food with that. Lightens the load going over the mountains, that way, you see—and cuts down on spoilage."
The husband looked interested, but Judy protested, "We could not take money from one who has done us kindness..."
"I assure you, you'll be doing me a kindness, just by selling me some supplies! Here, now..." Matt reached into his purse.
A few minutes later, he and Narlh headed downhill as the family toiled away uphill again, their cart lighter by two hams, half a bushel of grapes, a bottle of homemade wine, half a wheel of cheese, and a loaf of bread.
"Sure you don't mind carrying all that?" Matt asked.
"So what are you going to do, get squashed by lunch?" Narlh snorted. "Be real, okay?"
"I keep trying..."
"As you will." The dracogriff snorted. "But don't you think two gold pieces was a little much for these provisions?"
"Well, maybe..."
"You could have bought it all for two coppers."
"True." Matt shrugged. "But how much good are coins with Alisande's picture going to do here in Ibile?"
"There's some truth in that..."
"Besides, that family can put them to good use. Basic supplies—"
"Supplies! For two gold pieces, they can buy a small farm!"
Matt nodded. "You know, I suppose they could..."
They hadn't made much progress by sunset. Narlh could travel by leaps and bounds when he had to—but not for very long at a stretch; it was tiring. Besides, Matt was in continual danger of whiplash, and traveling braced against Narlh's bounding was tiring for him. So they went, at Narlh's normal pace, which was about as fast as a tired man could walk.
The good side was that, when evening came, Matt wasn't tired—at least, not terribly. He still had plenty of energy to set up camp and do whatever magic might prove necessary.
Preferably as little as possible; he felt as if he were lighting a beacon any time he worked a spell. No, if he could set up camp without magic, so much the better. Matt found a tree with a fork and wedged the butt of a fallen limb into it.
"What's that supposed to be?" Narlh demanded. "A bear trap?"
"No, a people shelter." Matt pointed at the sky. "We might have rain tonight."
"Good; I could use a bath."
"True, true..."
Narlh reared his head back. "Well! If you're going to be that way about it,
I'm going to find some dinner!"
"You'll be amazed at the improvement when you get back," Matt called.
"You mean you're going to have a bath, too?" Narlh humphed, and waddled on out of sight.
Matt smiled, shaking his head, and turned to pick up the sack with the food in it. The comment about the bear trap had reminded him about the problems of night visitors—the natural kind. He wished he had some rope, but wasn't about to risk a spell for such a small item. Instead, he found a broken branch dangling from a nearby tree and hooked the sack onto a twig.
Not as good as it could be—any passing bear could knock it down, and a wolf might even be able to jump up to it—but at least it would protect the provisions from raccoons, or whatever the local equivalent was. Badgers, probably.
Then Matt went back to cutting branches. He draped them angling between the ground and the limb, to make a serviceable imitation of a pup tent. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, thought of starting a fire and fixing dinner, then decided to check out the neighborhood while there was still a little twilight left. He'd noticed a small hill when they'd been surveying for a good campsite; in fact, he would have set up there if there had been any cover. But it was just a grassy knob on top, and he was a little shy about being overexposed.
Still, it would do nicely as a lookout. He climbed up, then stood looking around at the landscape, feeling an oddly pleasant glow. The countryside lay quiet in the gloaming. It still sloped, overall, but they were down into deciduous trees, and every so often, the trees opened out into farmsteads.
But the farmhouses were burned out, the byres and sties were empty, and the fields lay in stubble—or churned to baked mud by horses' hooves. Kipling's lines came unbidden to Matt's mind:
They shall feed their horse on the standing crop,
Their men on the garnered grain.
The thatch of the byres shall serve for their fires
When all the cattle are slain.
Kipling had been talking about soldiers putting down bandits, of course—but here, the soldiers were the bandits. Matt turned away downhill, trying to keep his good mood from evaporating completely.
"I say! Fell beast! Put me down!"
Matt looked up, jolted out of his reverie.
"I am innocent! I am a poor wayfarer, seeking survival! Release me this instant!"
A furious growling answered him.
Matt started running. He recognized that growl—it was Narlh.
And there the monster came, plodding toward him—with something big in his mouth. Big, and squirming. Matt peered through the gloaming, and could just make out a human form. Not very large, percentage-wise, but still human.
"This is completely outrageous! I meant no harm—therefore, neither should...Oh!" The stranger looked up and saw Matt. "Greetings, kind sir! Could you persuade this beast to let me go?"
Matt had a bit of a shock—the man had only one eye. Not that he'd lost one—he'd been born that way. It was right smack dab in the middle of his forehead.
Poise above all. Matt tried a half smile and said, "That depends on why he picked you up in the first place."
"Absolutely no justifiable reason! There was simply..."
Narlh drowned him out with a muffled roar.
"My friend seems to disagree," Matt pointed out. "How about a solemn promise not to run away, if he puts you down? Until we sort out exactly what you've done, at least."
"I've done nothing! I...Oh, very well. I give you my solemn promise."
"Ptooey!" Narlh put the little man down with an exhalation that sounded more like spitting. The cyclops rolled and came to his feet, while Narlh was still working his jaws and exclaiming, "Phew! What a flavor!"
"Well, no one asked you to have a bite," the cyclops said indignantly. "Always thought myself a man of good taste, actually."
"Yeah, with a taste for our foodstuffs!"
"You caught him stealing?" Matt asked.
"Not a bit! I haven't touched your food!"
"No, but he was sure trying!" Narlh said. "Had a big long stick, and he was gonna knock your food bag down!"
"That's not exactly friendly," Matt pointed out.
The cyclops sighed. "I know, and I'm quite sorry. But really, I haven't had a bite to eat for two days—the birds fly at the slightest sign of me, and the rabbits won't let me come near. I haven't even found any berries! I would have asked, of course, but there was no one by, and I was so very hungry..."
Actually, Matt didn't think the cyclops looked all that lean. Pretty bulky, in fact, though none of it was fat. It was easy to see, because all he wore was a sort of fur kilt. He was very muscular, particularly in the arms, shoulders, and chest—though his legs looked to be borrowed from a rhinoceros. In fact, he was a pretty good picture of what Matt had always thought a Neanderthal would look like, from the neck down.
From the neck up, of course, he was quite well formed, if you could overlook the ocular arrangement. Handsome, in fact—if Matt imagined him with two eyes. Also, of course, he wore a pretty heavy beard. That could hide a lot.
All in all, he looked pretty trustworthy.
"You're softening," Narlh pointed out.
"Why not?" Matt sighed. "I've been hungry enough to steal, myself—though I never had the opportunity. We'll stand you to a good meal, stranger. Or trade, rather." He smiled at a sudden idea. "Maybe you can tell me a bit about the countryside."
"Why, gladly, sir! By the by, whom have I the pleasure of addressing? As for myself, I'm called Fadecourt."
Matt caught the use of the phrase "I'm called." Apparently, the cyclops wasn't about to tell his real name. Wise, in a world where magic worked by words. "Pleased to meet you, Fadecourt. I'm Matthew Mantrell."
The cyclops' eyebrow rose. "The Lord Wizard of Merovence?"
"The same." This guy was a bit too quick for Matt's liking.
"Well! I am honored!"
"You don't say." Matt wasn't sure he wanted allies who were impressed with him—but a little kindness never hurt. "We were just about to start supper. Know anything about camping?"
"A smattering," the cyclops said, with a touch of irony. "I've done a great deal of it in the recent past."
"And not entirely willingly?" Matt led the way back to the campsite. "Any particular reason?"
"Oh, a few minor things taken from me, such as my station and my home." Fadecourt was trying to sound casual. "And a small matter of soldiers all over the kingdom apparently having been told to be on watch for me. I've only to step into a village before there's a hue and cry—and from some of the missiles coming my way, I gather I'm outside the protection of the law."
"Oh?" Matt looked up, interested. "There's law in Ibile?"
"To be sure—the king's will. Or whim, I should perhaps say. Still, Gordogrosso does seem to regard the taking of human life as his prerogative; it's forbidden to most other people. From the zeal with which I'm pursued, I gather he's decided to exercise that privilege, in my case—but at second hand."
Matt winced at hearing the king's name spoken aloud, and waited for an answering stir of the magical field—but none came. He relaxed. "I'm enough of a marked man as it is, Fadecourt. I'm not sure it's all that much in my interest to have a companion with a price on his head." Then another aspect of the issue hit him. He cocked his head to the side. "Just what did you do to get the king down on your case, anyway?"
"Oh, just the usual sorts of crimes—you know."
"Not in Ibile, I don't. Enlighten me."
"Well, the common run of things—saving virgins from evil lechers, slaying hideous giant snakes that were preying on villagers, protecting the weak from the strong—that sort of thing."
It made sense, Matt decided. Actions that were good deeds in Merovence would naturally be crimes here—especially if the lechers were in good with the king, and the snakes had been sent to punish the villages that had somehow offended him or his nobles. Matt made a decision and called back over his shoulder, "You might as well go
hunt, Narlh. I think we'll be okay here."
The dracogriff mumbled something along the lines of sneaking back-stabbers, but he prowled off into the night.
Fadecourt looked after him in surprise, then turned back to Matt. "I appreciate your confidence."
"You've got the right enemies." They'd come into the campsite. Matt reached down the sack of provisions. "What's your preference—ham, or venison?"
"Anything!"
Matt pulled out the half haunch of game and handed it to him. The cyclops all but fell on it, slavering.
"Easy, easy!" Matt called, alarmed. "You'll give yourself a bellyache!"
Fadecourt froze. Then he said, "My apologies. Hunger is no excuse for bad manners. If you don't mind, though, I will have a few more bites."
"Sure, sure! Just don't overdo it, okay?" Matt turned away and began prowling around the clearing.
Fadecourt swallowed and called, "What do you seek?"
"Stones," Matt called back, "for the fire pit."
Fadecourt put the deer leg down—a major act of will—and came to join Matt. "This much, at least, I can do! There's one that would be good." He bent down and picked up a two-foot boulder. Then he saw another one, a little larger, so he shifted the first one into the crook of his elbow and scooped up the second boulder with his other hand. "Where did you want them?"
"In—in the center of the clearing." Matt pointed.
"Right-o." Fadecourt stepped lithely over to center and set the first stone down gently, then the second. "Leave this to me, old chap. You scout up the kindling, eh?"
"Yeah...sure." Matt just stared. Each of those boulders had to weigh a hundred pounds, at least—and they weren't exactly carved for ease of carrying. Matt might, just might, have been able to carry one of them with both hands, if he'd absolutely had to. More likely, he'd have rolled it—with the aid of a lever.
He turned away to hunt up kindling, wondering if he should maybe have asked Narlh to put off the hunting a little longer.
He laid the kindling, shaved a fuzz stick, and struck a spark with flint and steel, then breathed it alight.
"Will you not light your blaze with magic, Wizard?"
The Oathbound Wizard Page 9
