Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [92]
Slipping into his shirt, Simna nodded admiringly at the figure standing unaided by the doorway. “Never would have believed it. I’ve got to hand it to you, little bruther: You’ve gone and pulled yourself up out of the mire. Not many men could do such a thing in a single night. Especially not men as far gone as you were when we dragged you out of that close.”
“I remember that, too. It’s all coming clear to me now.” Taking careful but increasingly confident steps, he walked up to Ehomba and grasped the herdsman’s arms gratefully. “I don’t know how to thank you. Once you’ve fallen as far as I did, you become so dazed and blind you can no longer find the way back up. For that you need help. You two have given me that gift.”
“Genden’s encomiums on you, Knucker.” Having finished dressing, Simna sat down on the edge of the bed and resumed eating. “I take back what I said about you last night. But you probably don’t remember much of that.”
“On the contrary, I remember all of it. I have an exceedingly good memory—when it’s functioning.”
“Then you don’t mind that we picked your pocket to pay for this room and food?” The unrepentant swordsman bit down into a final muffin.
“Not at all. I’d only have squandered the money on spirituous intoxicants. Far better it be used for sustenance and shelter. I owe you more, much more, than a night’s rest.”
His words muffled by muffin, Simna gestured at the other man with the crumbly residue. “Hoy, I’ll second that!”
“And I would like to repay you further.” Knucker smiled apologetically. “Unfortunately, all the money I had in the world was in my pocket. As you can imagine, I have had more than a little difficulty obtaining any kind of paying work lately.”
“How did you come by that money, then?” Ehomba asked him.
Their guest lowered his gaze. “I would do anything for a drink, or for a few coins to purchase it. Please don’t make me repeat the details. My condition was degrading enough. How far I debased myself to achieve that state of utter wretchedness need not concern you.” Determination in his voice, he lifted his eyes. “I will repay you for your kindness by guiding you safely out of Phan by the quickest and easiest route. I do not know where you are headed from here.”
“North by northwest,” the herdsman told him simply.
Eagerness shining from his freshly scrubbed face, the little man nodded vigorously. “You will first have to pass through Bondressey. I know that country well and can greatly expedite your passage. I have even been to the foot of Mount Scathe, in the Hrugar Mountains, and can guide you at least that far.” He looked anxiously from one man to the other. “What say you?”
Simna shrugged and jerked a thumb in the herdsman’s direction. “This be the sorcerer’s party. I’m just hanging around, kind of like unplanned baggage.”
Knucker’s eyes widened slightly as he turned to gaze at Ehomba. “Are you really a sorcerer?”
“No,” the herdsman replied tersely. He threw a sour look in Simna’s direction, but the herdsman had returned his full attention to the remaining ruins of his morning meal. “I am a keeper of cattle and sheep.” A sudden thought made him frown. “But you already know what I am. You know everything.”
The little man looked baffled. “Me? Know everything? What are you talking about? I know only myself, and the places I have been, and the bits and pieces of a normal life. How would I know whether you are a sorcerer or not?”
Simna was nodding slowly. “Exactly what I’ve been saying all along.”
Ehomba’s gaze narrowed as he stared hard at the speaker. If Knucker was, for whatever unknown reasons of his own, playing out a game behind a mask of feigned ignorance, he was performing like a professional. His expression as he returned the herdsman’s gaze was all innocence and sincerity.
“What,” he asked the other man slowly,