Legacy - Lois McMaster Bujold [103]
Back at Tent Bluefield, Fawn tied Grace to a tree while she went inside, skinned into her riding clothes, and swiftly packed her saddlebags. She pulled her sharing knife from its place in Dag’s trunk and slung it around her neck under her shirt, then fastened the steel knife Dag had given her to her belt. Last, she plopped plunkins into her saddlebags opposite the grain sack till they balanced, and fastened the buckles. Food and to spare for one little farmer girl for a three-day ride, and no stopping.
Finally, she fished Dag’s spare quill and ink bottle from the bottom of his trunk and knelt beside it, penning a short note on a scrap of cloth. Dear Cattagus and Sarri. Dag’s company killed the malice, but he’s hurt, so I’m going to Raintree to meet up with him, because he’s my husband, and I have a right. Ask Dirla about the rest. Back soon. Love, Fawn. She worked it into the tent-flap ties, where it fluttered discreetly but visibly. Then she stood on a stump to saddle Grace, heaved up and tied on her saddlebags, and climbed aboard. She was over the bridge in ten minutes more.
14
By sunset, Fawn guessed she had covered about twenty-five miles from Hickory Lake. The hours of interspersed trotting and walking, nursing her mare along in what she hoped was the best balance between speed and endurance, had given her plenty of time to think. Unfortunately, by now her thoughts were mainly variations on Have I taken a wrong turn yet? Fairbolt’s map was not as reassuring as she’d hoped. The Lakewalker notion of roads seemed more Fawn’s idea of trails; their trails, paths; and their paths, wilderness. So she wasn’t altogether sorry when she heard the hoofbeats coming up behind her.
She turned in her saddle. Rounding the dense greenery of the last curve, a husky patroller rode, followed by Hoharie, her apprentice Othan towing a packhorse and a spare mount in a string, and another patroller. Fawn didn’t bother trying to race ahead, but she didn’t halt, either. In a moment, the others cantered up to surround her, and she let Grace drop back to a walk.
“Fawn!” cried Hoharie. “What are you doing out here?”
“Riding my fat horse,” said Fawn shortly. “They told me she needed exercise.”
“Fairbolt didn’t give you permission to come with us.”
“I’m not with you. I’m by myself.”
As Hoharie sucked on her lower lip, eyes narrowed in thought, Othan chimed in. “You have to turn around and go back, farmer girl. You can’t follow us.”
“I’m ahead of you,” Fawn pointed out. She added, “Though you’re welcome to pass. Go on, run along.”
Hoharie glanced back at her two patrollers, now riding side by side at the rear and watching dubiously. “I really can’t spare a man to see you home.”
“Nobody’s asking you to.”
Hoharie drew a deeper breath. “But I will, if you make me.”
Fawn halted her mare and glanced back at the two big, earnest fellows. They would do their duty; that was a bit of a mania, with patrollers. If she let herself get cumbered with either one of that grim pair, he would see her back to Hickory Lake, sure enough, and in no good mood about it, likely. Patrollers had objections to leaving their partners.
Fawn tried one more time. “Hoharie, please let me come with you. I won’t slow you down, I promise.”
“That’s not the problem, Fawn. It’s your own safety. You don’t belong out here.”
I know where I belong, thank you very much. By Dag’s side. Fawn rubbed her left arm and frowned. “I don’t want to cost you your escort. If it’s that unsafe, you might need them yourself.” She