I’ll keep up. Or you’ll leave me behind and do what you must.
The fatalism in the thought shamed me. The sacrifice was too close to what a young man had done today for a prince. The inarguable truth was that once more I spent all our strength for a king and a cause. The wolf yielded up the days of his life to me for an allegiance he understood only in terms of his love for me. Black Rolf had been right all those years ago. It was wrong of me to use him so. I made a child’s promise to myself that when this was over, I would make it up to him somehow. We would go somewhere he wanted to go, and do something he longed to do.
Our cabin and the fireside. That would be enough for me.
It is yours.
I know.
We returned to the inn by a roundabout path, avoiding the better-travelled roads of the village. In the dark of the innyard, she put her mouth close to my ear. ‘I’ll slip up to my room to pack my things. You wake Lord Golden and let him know that we must ride.’
She disappeared into the shadows near the back door. I made my own entrance through the front, presenting the scowling face of a chastised servant as I hastened through the main room. The hour was late now and the mood more one of brooding than celebration. No one took notice of me. I made my way to our room. Outside the door, the sounds of argument reached me. Lord Golden’s voice was raised in aristocratic fury. ‘Bedbugs, sir! Thick as swarming bees. I’ve most delicate skin. I cannot stay where such vermin thrives!’
Our landlord, garbed in nightshirt and cap and clutching a candle, sounded horrified. ‘Please, Lord Golden, I’ve other bedding, if you would –’
‘No. I shall not spend the night here. Prepare an accounting immediately.’
I knocked on the door. At my entrance, Lord Golden transferred his temper to me. ‘There you are, you worthless scoundrel! Out carousing, I don’t doubt, while I’ve had to pack my own things and yours as well. Well, make yourself useful in some way! Run and knock on Huntswoman Laurel’s door and tell her we must leave immediately. Then roust the hostler and have our horses made ready. I cannot spend the night at an inn infested with vermin!’
I hastened away from the innkeeper’s insistence that he ran a good, clean inn. In a surprisingly short time, we found ourselves outside and ready to ride. I’d saddled our mounts myself; the hostler had not responded to my efforts to roust him. The innkeeper had followed Lord Golden out into the yard, remonstrating that we would find no other inn tonight, but the noble was adamant. He mounted, and without a word to us, stirred Malta to a walk. Laurel and I followed.
For a time, we kept our sedate pace. The moon had risen, but the crowding houses thwarted her light, and the occasional lamplight leaking through shutters made more shadows than illumination for us. Lord Golden’s voice carried softly to both of us. ‘I heard the gossip in the taproom and judged it best we leave immediately. They fled on the road.’
‘By going in the dark, we take a large chance on missing their trail,’ I pointed out.
‘I know. But by waiting, we might arrive too late to do anything but bury him. Besides, none of us could sleep, and this way we go ahead of those who will ride out tomorrow.’
Nighteyes ghosted up to join us. I quested towards him, and as we joined, the night seemed lighter around us. He snorted at our dust, then trotted up to lead the way. Linked by the Wit, he could not hide from me the effort that cost him. I winced but accepted his decision. I nudged Myblack to keep pace with him.
‘Our saddle packs seem bulkier than when we first arrived,’ I observed to the night as Myblack came abreast of Malta.
Lord Golden lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. ‘Blankets. Candles. Anything else that I thought might prove useful to us. I ghosted the kitchens, once I knew that we’d have to be on the road swiftly, so there is bread in that sack as well. And apples. If I’d taken much more than that, it would have been noticed. Try not to crush the loaves.’
‘One would think you two had done this sort of thing before. Lord Golden.’ There was an edge to Laurel’s tone, and just enough query on the honorific to sober us both. When neither of us came up with words, she added, ‘I don’t think it quite fair that I share the risks of this venture, but still go blindfolded between you.’
Lord Golden spoke in his best aristocratic tone. ‘You’re right, Huntswoman. It is not fair, yet that is how it must remain for a time. For unless I am mistaken, we need to put on some speed. As our prince left this town at a gallop, so shall we.’
He acted as he spoke, setting his heels to Malta, who sprang forwards joyously to challenge Myblack for the lead. Laurel was at his side in an instant. Later, my brother. I felt Nighteyes part himself from me, both mentally and physically. He knew he could not keep up with the running horses. He would follow at his own pace and on his own path. That sundering wrenched me, even as I knew it was his choice and the wisest course of action. Naked of him, stripped of his night vision, I rode on, letting Myblack choose her path as we cantered three abreast past the huddled houses.
The village was small. We reached the outskirts swiftly. The moon’s light spilled down the ribbon of road. Malta broke into a gallop, and both the other horses sprang forwards to keep up with her. We passed farmsteads, and fields both harvested and standing. I tried to keep watch for the tracks of running horses leaving the road, but saw nothing. We let the horses run until they wanted to slow down and breathe. As soon as Malta tugged at her bit, Lord Golden let her have her head and we were off again. The two were more of one mind than I had realized. It was his complete trust that gave her such cheeky confidence. We rode through what remained of the night, and Lord Golden set our pace.
As dawn greyed the skies, Laurel spoke my thoughts aloud. ‘At least we have a good start on those who intended to ride out at dawn to see what luck their fellows had in hunting Piebalds. And clearer heads.’
She left unspoken a fear I knew we all shared; that we had lost the Prince’s trail in our haste to follow him. As the strengthening day hid the moon from us, we rode on. Sometimes one has to trust to luck, or to believe in fate as the Fool did.
TWENTY
Stones