Oathblood by Mercedes Lackey Page A

warnings—” he shrugged. “—sheep was meant to be sheared, they say, and fools meant to share the same fate.”
    â€œSo what’s the problem?” Tarma asked, then realized in the next breath what the problem was. “Ah—the bullyboys. Without Kendrik to pay ‘em and to keep his hand on ’em—”
    Lady Gorley nodded. “Exactly. They won’t heed me. I would be in as much danger from them as my people. We’re farm and tradesfolk here; we would be easy prey for them. It will be bad if I keep them, and worse if I discharge them.”
    Tarma pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Your respect, Lady, but I’ve got no wish to take on a couple dozen bad cases with just me and my partner and less than a day to take them out. But maybe if we put our heads together—”
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    â€œYou’ve got until moonrise,” Lady Gorley said, handing a pouch up to Tarma that chinked as she looked inside before stowing it away in her saddlebag. Light streaming from the back door of the inn gave Tarma enough illumination to see that more than half the coins were gold. “That is really all the time we can give you. And I’m sorry I didn’t have much to pay you for your discomfort.”
    â€œIt’ll be enough,” Tarma assured her. “Now—you’ve got it all straight—at moonrise you raise the hue and cry after us; you offer fifty gold to the man who brings back our heads, and you turn the lads loose. They’re going to hear the word ‘gold’ and they won’t even stop to think—they’ll just head out after us. You do realize this is going to cost you in horses—they’ll take every good mount in your stables.”
    Lady Gorley shrugged. “That can’t be helped, and better horses than lives. But can you lay a trail that will keep them following without getting caught yourselves?”
    Tarma laughed. “You ask a Shin‘a’in if she can lay a trail? No fear. By the time they get tired of following—those that I don’t lose once their horses founder—they’ll have had second and third thoughts about coming back to Viden. They’ll know that you’ll never keep them on. They’ll think about the kings’ men you’ve likely called in—and the good armsmen of your neighbors. And they’ll be so far from here that they’ll give it all up as a bad cause.”
    The innkeeper nodded. “She’s right, Lady. They drifted in; they drift out just the same with no easy pickings in sight.”
    â€œWhat about that little rhymester?” Tarma asked, nodding back at the tavern door. They hadn’t noticed the minstrel trying to make himself a part of the wall until it was too late to do anything about him.
    â€œI’ll keep him locked up until it’s safe to let him go,” the innkeeper replied. “If I know musickers, he’ll have a long gullet for wine. I’ll just keep him too happy to move.”
    â€œVery well—and the gods go with you,” Lady Gorley said, stepping away from the horses.
    â€œWell, Greeneyes,” Tarma smiled crookedly at her partner.
    Kethry sighed, and smiled back. “All right, I’ll geas them. But dammit, that means we won’t be seeing beds for months!”
    Tarma nudged Ironheart with her heels and the battlemare sighed as heavily as Kethry had, but moved out down the village street with a faint jingling of harness. “Greeneyes, I didn’t say you should geas them to follow us now, did I?”
    â€œThen who—”
    â€œRemember that loudmouth, Rory Halfaxe? The one that kept trying to drag you into his bed? He’s in Lyavor, and planning on going the direction opposite of this place. Now if we double back and come up on his backtrail—think you can transfer the geas?”
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    Leslac slumped, nearly prostrate with despair. His head pounded, and he downed