Fortune's Fool - Mercedes Lackey [91]
Sasha sighed with relief. That meant Sergei was also probably fine. The moment the witch had got herself into difficulty, she’d surely called back her ghosts to help her.
“And speaking of locking horns—” The Wolf turned up his nose and howled again. “We still do owe you our thanks, and I think you’ll be glad—”
There was a sound like thunder in the distance, and over the slope of the mountain came the Goat at an all-out run, head down, negotiating the steep slope as easily as if it were a flat meadow. He skidded to a stop beside the Wolf in a shower of small stones, and shook his horns.
“Slow, slow, slow,” mocked the Wolf. “It is a good thing I am not inclined to eat you, because I would have no trouble catching you.”
“On the flat, maybe, but I should like to see you chase me on the cliffs!” the Goat replied, with a baa-ing laugh. “And then I should knock you over the side of one, and then where would you be? So Prince! I have a request to make of you and an offer to pay you back for your kindness.”
“I’ve paid back already, I tracked him down for you,” the Wolf said, with another grin. “Travel well, Prince! Perhaps one day we’ll meet again!”
And with that, the Wolf bounded off into the forest, and vanished from sight among the trees. The Goat snorted.
“As you can plainly see,” said the Goat, turning toward Sasha, “I still have on this pesky saddle and bridle. I am not inclined to ask just anyone to take it off, since I would likely end up a captive again. However this is a good thing for both of us; since I still have it on, I can carry you to wherever you want to go, and when we get there, you can take it off for me. I am happy to take you anywhere you like, in return for your kindness in freeing me.”
“That would be wonderful,” Sasha replied with heartfelt relief. “It would be more than wonderful. I need to get to the sea—a port, if possible—”
“Then climb on my back, Fortunate Fool, and hold on tight!” said the Goat merrily. “You will be eating fish for dinner!”
He really should have expected that a Goat the size of a horse was not the ordinary sort of mount.
The Goat did not fly, as Sergei did, but it might just as well have. It leaped. It made enormous leaps that took it right over the tops of the trees, and in fact, so dense was the forest canopy that once it was above the treetops, it used them instead of the ground as its landing and leaping platforms. It was dizzying, and at once terrifying and exhilarating. Each leap seemed to cover about seven leagues, making Sasha wonder if this was how the owners of those famed seven-league boots got about.
He held onto the Goat’s horns instead of the bridle; a bridle, after all, was for someone who knew where he and his mount should be going, which he particularly did not. They bounded along so fast that Sasha really didn’t get to see much of the landscape; when the Goat finally landed just as the sun was setting, and then didn’t move again, it took him a moment to realize they had reached their destination.
When he did so, he immediately swung his leg over and dropped down onto the ground, then took off the saddle and bridle. The Goat sighed and shook his whole body.
Sasha looked down at the town. It was a proper town indeed, with streets and shops, a fine church, and the port and docks. There were several ships tied up at the docks, and surely one of them would be going north.
“Oh now, that is good to be rid of that tack,” the Goat said. “What are you going to do with those?” He pointed his long nose at the saddle and bridle. “They look valuable.”
“They probably are,” Sasha said, absently. He noticed that they had landed not that far from a peasant hut that looked rather in need of repair. A sad-eyed little girl played listlessly in front; his heart ached to see her, for she looked too malnourished even to play properly. He picked up the tack and carried it over to her. She leaped up and stared at him as he approached.
“Tell your father,” said Sasha, “that I make him a present of this, having no more need of