Jimmy grinned. ‘Not that I’ve noticed.’
‘Oh, you’d notice,’ the older man said. ‘As I recall, it feels a great deal like this.’
After a moment of contemplating his companion’s broad back Jimmy asked, ‘When were you in a haunted house?’
‘Long story,’ Coe said without turning his head and then lapsed into silence.
Jimmy grunted in irritation. This seemed to him to be a perfect time for a long story. Because, except for those soul-curdling moments when they went too close to the manse, he was bored stiff. If they kept on like this he was going to be grateful for the distraction of his aching arse.
They reached the edge of the cliff and Coe sniffed the wind, looking out over the white line of snarling surf where sea clashed white-green on rocks and the blue-grey waves topped with foam beyond. ‘There’ll be weather tonight,’ he said. ‘We need to find ourselves some shelter.’
‘I guess asking at the manse is out,’ the young thief muttered.
Coe gave him a wry look and turned his horse, heading off across the ring of forest and through it, into the cleared fields beyond. The line of . . . unpleasantness . . . nowhere reached the cultivated land, but it had little embayments well into the woods and rough moor kept as barrier and hunting grounds for the manor.
Jimmy sighed and followed, feeling the oppression on his spirits lift as they came back into land that bore the sign of man, not to mention sheep, goats and cattle. All he could see from this lane—it was too narrow and irregular to be called a road—was a rising field of something green, probably young grain, and a ridge lined with tall trees.
‘I don’t think that was even your typical haunted house,’ he muttered.
‘Not quite,’ Jarvis Coe said grimly.
Even then, Jimmy felt a little startled at his tone. Coe was looking back towards the fortified manor, and his mouth was a hard line; his right hand kept straying to his breast, and the young thief thought that there must be something beneath the cloth—an amulet, perhaps.
‘In the meantime, the day’s mostly gone and if we’re to find out what’s happening, we need shelter,’ Coe said. He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Unless you’d rather ride back to Land’s End?’
‘If you’re staying, I am,’ Jimmy said, flushing. ‘I gave my word.’
Coe smiled, then more broadly at Jimmy’s scowl. ‘No, lad, I’m not laughing at your keeping a debt of honour,’ he said. ‘I’m just remembering some situations I got myself into with promises, once. The more credit to you.’
He reined his horse about and Jimmy followed. The setting sun made it hard to look west—not something that was often a problem in Krondor, where tall buildings were more common. Despite that, Coe led them to the junction of two lanes in that direction, and cocked his head to one side.
‘Ah, I thought so,’ he said. ‘There’s a brook there. Hear it?’
Jimmy tried; all he could make out was rustling, whooshing, crackly sounds of wind through vegetation, birdsong, and a lot of insects. But . . .
‘That tinkling sound?’
‘You’ve a good ear, Jimmy.’
‘Thank you, Jarvis,’ he said.
‘Well, in the country, where a road or path crosses water, chances are you’ll find folk living,’ the older man said.
They rode down the lane through a belt of trees that arched over the road; it reminded Jimmy of an alleyway, in that you wanted to look seven ways at once to make sure nobody was sneaking up on you. The trees all seemed of the same size, and most were in rings around thicker stumps.
‘Coppicing,’ Coe said, noticing his puzzlement. ‘If you cut an oak or beech, a ring of saplings comes up from the stump. Leave them ten years, and they’re good firewood, or the right size for charcoal, or for poles, and when you cut them you get more coppice shoots—think of it as farming trees. Another sign we’re near some dwellings.’
Ah, rural mysteries, Jimmy thought a little snidely.
Jarvis pulled up near the footpath that led to a small cottage. ‘That’s a farmstead off that way,’ he said, pointing to a haze of smoke. ‘But we’ll stop here. A cottager will be more glad of a few coins, and more likely to be gossipy.’
He rose in the stirrups. ‘Hello the house!’ he called.
The cottage lay a hundred yards or so to their right, in the direction of the manor; a huge oak overshadowed it.
Which isn’t hard, Jimmy thought. A small bush would overshadow it.