words: “… no more ghost. What’s there to be scared of?” He turned to Hesketh Pratt. “I’ll be staying here tonight.”
Hesketh bowed deeply and licked his lips, I supposed, at the thought of a paying lodger. “Very good, Lord Grodoveth. I’ll show you upstairs–-“
“I’ll find it,” said Grodoveth, and clapped a hand on Tobald’s shoulder. “Sleep well, my friend. I know I shall.” And so saying, he went upstairs with a candle that Hesketh handed him. Tobald paid Hesketh for the drinks and, giving me a farewell wave, went outside.
I excused myself from the somnolent discussion, left enough on the table to pay for the drinks, fearing that Benelaius would be annoyed by my profligacy, and went to the door. Hearing hoofbeats, I peered out and saw that Tobald was indeed heading west toward the road to Ghars, looking uneasily about him.
There was no one else outside, so I stepped across the road and looked up at the six second-floor windows. A candle gleamed through the thin curtain that covered one of them, and the shadow’s flickering told me that someone was moving inside. After a few minutes the light went out, leaving the window in utter darkness. I waited another minute, and then walked around to the back of the tavern.
There was only one door that led to the outside from the kitchen, and two windows. Only one small second-story window looked out on the swamp, so I figured the upstairs back consisted of a poorly lit hall.
I remained for another half hour, going from front to back, but Grodoveth’s room remained dark, and no one came out of the tavern save for Farmer Bortas and his friends. I stayed in the shadows so they didn’t see me.
After their departure, Jenkus and I started for home. It was perhaps a mile from the Swamp Rat to Benelaius’s cottage, and I confess I started to drowse almost the instant I was in the saddle. Jenkus’s walking gait is very soothing to the weary soul, and I was nothing if not weary.
I suppose I dreamed the footsteps before I actually heard them. But when they came into my waking mind, I knew that I had not heard the like before. It sounded like two or three horses running behind me with loose shoes, a jittery, clattery kind of sound. But after each clatter was a great thud, so that I knew there was great weight falling on the road. It was a constant da-da-BOOM, da-da-BOOM behind me, and from the sound of it, it was getting closer and closer.
Jenkus had significantly increased his speed on his own, but I spurred him nonetheless before I looked around. When I did look around, I spurred him harder.
17
It was pitch-black, and we were keeping to the road more by instinct than sight, but I was able to see against the sky behind me what looked like a small mass of men and horses riding all together. Men and horses? Say rather ogres on oliphants. I swung my head around and didn’t dare to look back again.
But I did call back to them, “What is it you want?” thinking that if they cried out, “Your purse!” or “Your life!” they would be less frightening. But there was only silence except for the da-da-BOOM, which now sounded to me like a drum beating my death knell.
Now I dug my heels into Jenkus’s flanks, and he responded wonderfully. I think he was even more frightened than I. He whinnied frantically and put on a burst of speed that ruffled my cloak and blew my hair straight back. I clung to the reins with one hand and the saddlebag with the other, not wanting to lose my ill-gotten evidence.
If we outdistanced the party behind, we would be safe at
Benelaius’s house, thanks to that spell of protection, one of the few spells he had cast since his retirement. It would keep out anything evil unless it were specifically invited, and I certainly didn’t intend to invite whatever was behind me.
Whatever it was, it was falling behind, giving me the leisure to think about what it could be. A band of brigands, the same ones who might have killed Dovo the
Hesketh bowed deeply and licked his lips, I supposed, at the thought of a paying lodger. “Very good, Lord Grodoveth. I’ll show you upstairs–-“
“I’ll find it,” said Grodoveth, and clapped a hand on Tobald’s shoulder. “Sleep well, my friend. I know I shall.” And so saying, he went upstairs with a candle that Hesketh handed him. Tobald paid Hesketh for the drinks and, giving me a farewell wave, went outside.
I excused myself from the somnolent discussion, left enough on the table to pay for the drinks, fearing that Benelaius would be annoyed by my profligacy, and went to the door. Hearing hoofbeats, I peered out and saw that Tobald was indeed heading west toward the road to Ghars, looking uneasily about him.
There was no one else outside, so I stepped across the road and looked up at the six second-floor windows. A candle gleamed through the thin curtain that covered one of them, and the shadow’s flickering told me that someone was moving inside. After a few minutes the light went out, leaving the window in utter darkness. I waited another minute, and then walked around to the back of the tavern.
There was only one door that led to the outside from the kitchen, and two windows. Only one small second-story window looked out on the swamp, so I figured the upstairs back consisted of a poorly lit hall.
I remained for another half hour, going from front to back, but Grodoveth’s room remained dark, and no one came out of the tavern save for Farmer Bortas and his friends. I stayed in the shadows so they didn’t see me.
After their departure, Jenkus and I started for home. It was perhaps a mile from the Swamp Rat to Benelaius’s cottage, and I confess I started to drowse almost the instant I was in the saddle. Jenkus’s walking gait is very soothing to the weary soul, and I was nothing if not weary.
I suppose I dreamed the footsteps before I actually heard them. But when they came into my waking mind, I knew that I had not heard the like before. It sounded like two or three horses running behind me with loose shoes, a jittery, clattery kind of sound. But after each clatter was a great thud, so that I knew there was great weight falling on the road. It was a constant da-da-BOOM, da-da-BOOM behind me, and from the sound of it, it was getting closer and closer.
Jenkus had significantly increased his speed on his own, but I spurred him nonetheless before I looked around. When I did look around, I spurred him harder.
17
It was pitch-black, and we were keeping to the road more by instinct than sight, but I was able to see against the sky behind me what looked like a small mass of men and horses riding all together. Men and horses? Say rather ogres on oliphants. I swung my head around and didn’t dare to look back again.
But I did call back to them, “What is it you want?” thinking that if they cried out, “Your purse!” or “Your life!” they would be less frightening. But there was only silence except for the da-da-BOOM, which now sounded to me like a drum beating my death knell.
Now I dug my heels into Jenkus’s flanks, and he responded wonderfully. I think he was even more frightened than I. He whinnied frantically and put on a burst of speed that ruffled my cloak and blew my hair straight back. I clung to the reins with one hand and the saddlebag with the other, not wanting to lose my ill-gotten evidence.
If we outdistanced the party behind, we would be safe at
Benelaius’s house, thanks to that spell of protection, one of the few spells he had cast since his retirement. It would keep out anything evil unless it were specifically invited, and I certainly didn’t intend to invite whatever was behind me.
Whatever it was, it was falling behind, giving me the leisure to think about what it could be. A band of brigands, the same ones who might have killed Dovo the
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