Wallie said. “We must number seven, remember?”
“Don’t be absurd!” Spraying spit, Honakura began to struggle out of the chair. “I am part of the mission. Seven may be increased by temporary guides—or else we do not count babies and Nameless Ones. I am coming! So is Apprentice Quili.”
“Lord Shonsu!” Garadooi said. “I would not presume to argue with you, my lord, but horses alone will be much faster than a wagon. The track may not be passable even for them. A wagon . . . ”
“If traders use the road, then it must be capable of taking wagons. We need supplies—food, bedding, axes, ropes, chains—and loading a wagon is much faster than loading horses. Anyway, there will be no pursuit. Lady Thondi will advise the sorcerers that we nave left by boat. Is that not so, my lady?”
She bared her yellow fangs again. “I wonder why I should lift a hand to save such a fool. He was right—his father will disown him.”
“But you will divert the sorcerers, just in case he does not.”
Bowing her head over the jewel-encrusted hands on the cane, Thondi whispered, “If you will spare my home.” It was a touching note. She must have been a most dramatic performer in her dancing career, even if some of her rank had been acquired by bribery, like her grandson’s.
“I shall accompany you also, my lord.” That was Quili, sounding quiet but determined.
“That will not be necessary. You have already been more than helpful.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I must not be here.”
The sorcerers would question her. If she refused to answer they would know that the story they had been given was false—Honakura had seen that already. And if the wagon could not get through, then she could bring it back with Cowie and the old man, while the others proceeded on horseback.
“Very well. We’ll try it with eight. Are there that many horses available?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then we must go.” He looked to the defeated Lady Thondi. “And you will now send a messenger to meet the sorcerers, to say that we have departed the way we came.” That would not likely stop them coming to the manor, but it might make them slow down to spare their mounts. “You will divert any pursuit, or I swear that I shall kill your grandson.” Wallie could never be ruthless enough to kill a hostage, but formal oaths required drawing his sword and using a ritual formula, so he was not quite committing perjury.
She nodded morosely. “I shall do all I can.”
Just for an instant . . . Damn!
Wallie had missed a bet. He had been concentrating on the old woman, ignoring the two companions who still stood behind her. They were not so skilled at dissimulation, and he had caught a vanishing trace of . . . something . . . on the face of the pretty Second. Now it was gone, leaving him with a nagging certainty that he had overlooked . . . something.
†††††††
The stable was a long building, barrel-vaulted and gloomy like a tunnel, both musty and acrid with horse smell. For the first time since stepping off the ferry, Wallie found himself in a crowd—forty or fifty male slaves of various ages. Whatever the manor’s free servants were doing, wherever they had taken refuge, they were obviously not uprooting gorse bushes—not when the slaves were sitting idle in the warm shelter of the stable, enjoying a holiday. They clustered eagerly around to greet Quili and Garadooi, largely ignoring the swordsmen.
In the interests of haste and mobility, Quili’s two-wheel cart would suffice instead of a wagon, and all that was needed was to load it and acquire additional horses. Wallie Smith’s equestrian experience had been limited to a few childhood riding lessons, and either Shonsu had avoided horses completely, or his knowledge had not been passed along. Nor had Wallie ever organized a pack trip, although his work with fatherless boys on a certain other planet had given him a fair knowledge of camping.
But
“Don’t be absurd!” Spraying spit, Honakura began to struggle out of the chair. “I am part of the mission. Seven may be increased by temporary guides—or else we do not count babies and Nameless Ones. I am coming! So is Apprentice Quili.”
“Lord Shonsu!” Garadooi said. “I would not presume to argue with you, my lord, but horses alone will be much faster than a wagon. The track may not be passable even for them. A wagon . . . ”
“If traders use the road, then it must be capable of taking wagons. We need supplies—food, bedding, axes, ropes, chains—and loading a wagon is much faster than loading horses. Anyway, there will be no pursuit. Lady Thondi will advise the sorcerers that we nave left by boat. Is that not so, my lady?”
She bared her yellow fangs again. “I wonder why I should lift a hand to save such a fool. He was right—his father will disown him.”
“But you will divert the sorcerers, just in case he does not.”
Bowing her head over the jewel-encrusted hands on the cane, Thondi whispered, “If you will spare my home.” It was a touching note. She must have been a most dramatic performer in her dancing career, even if some of her rank had been acquired by bribery, like her grandson’s.
“I shall accompany you also, my lord.” That was Quili, sounding quiet but determined.
“That will not be necessary. You have already been more than helpful.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I must not be here.”
The sorcerers would question her. If she refused to answer they would know that the story they had been given was false—Honakura had seen that already. And if the wagon could not get through, then she could bring it back with Cowie and the old man, while the others proceeded on horseback.
“Very well. We’ll try it with eight. Are there that many horses available?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then we must go.” He looked to the defeated Lady Thondi. “And you will now send a messenger to meet the sorcerers, to say that we have departed the way we came.” That would not likely stop them coming to the manor, but it might make them slow down to spare their mounts. “You will divert any pursuit, or I swear that I shall kill your grandson.” Wallie could never be ruthless enough to kill a hostage, but formal oaths required drawing his sword and using a ritual formula, so he was not quite committing perjury.
She nodded morosely. “I shall do all I can.”
Just for an instant . . . Damn!
Wallie had missed a bet. He had been concentrating on the old woman, ignoring the two companions who still stood behind her. They were not so skilled at dissimulation, and he had caught a vanishing trace of . . . something . . . on the face of the pretty Second. Now it was gone, leaving him with a nagging certainty that he had overlooked . . . something.
†††††††
The stable was a long building, barrel-vaulted and gloomy like a tunnel, both musty and acrid with horse smell. For the first time since stepping off the ferry, Wallie found himself in a crowd—forty or fifty male slaves of various ages. Whatever the manor’s free servants were doing, wherever they had taken refuge, they were obviously not uprooting gorse bushes—not when the slaves were sitting idle in the warm shelter of the stable, enjoying a holiday. They clustered eagerly around to greet Quili and Garadooi, largely ignoring the swordsmen.
In the interests of haste and mobility, Quili’s two-wheel cart would suffice instead of a wagon, and all that was needed was to load it and acquire additional horses. Wallie Smith’s equestrian experience had been limited to a few childhood riding lessons, and either Shonsu had avoided horses completely, or his knowledge had not been passed along. Nor had Wallie ever organized a pack trip, although his work with fatherless boys on a certain other planet had given him a fair knowledge of camping.
But
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