Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [16]
But what I heard was not the previous hollow groan, and I saw with relief, not a ghost, but another rider traveling toward me. At that point I would have been happy to see a highwayman, as long as he did not glow.
I could not make out the figure, but it seemed large and was wearing a heavy cloak and a hat with a wide brim that hid its features. I couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman, and I could see only that the horse was of some dark color, be it black, chestnut, or gray. Dark is dark in the darkness.
"Good evening!" I hailed, more to hear my own voice than to greet the rider. But there was no reply. Horse and rider passed by me so quickly and dismissively that I never got a glimpse of the shrouded face. Maybe that was another ghost, I thought to myself. Maybe they're having their annual meeting in Ghars as well.
But I didn't really think it a ghost, since Jenkus hardly reacted to it at all, and I had always heard that animals were sound identifiers of spirits. The rider had been moving quickly, but not as speedily as one would who had just seen an axe-swinging ghost. So I assumed the path ahead was free of haunts for the time being.
And it was. I saw nothing untoward all the way back to Benelaius's, though I don't mind telling you that I jumped at every branch that moved in the wind. I was most nervous, of course, at the place where I had seen the thing before. But everything was peaceful. Nothing moved except myself and Jenkus as I kicked him into greater speed past the haunted spot.
It was very late when we arrived home, but Benelaius had of course been awake and working in his study. He greeted me at the door as I entered with the cask of clarry in my arms. "What kept you?"
I shrugged. "Tavern talk, brawls, and most of all, a ghost."
I was glad to see that I had gotten a reaction from his usual stoic countenance. His eyebrows raised. "A ghost, is it?"
"Yes, I saw him near that boggy bit of land where-" He held up a hand. "On the way there, or the way back?" "Why, the way back."
"Then start from the beginning, with the tavern talk. It's been a while since I've heard of the doings in town. You'll get to your ghost anon."
Maybe he had had so many experiences with the supernatural in the past that another sighting of a spook had little in it to interest him. But I suspect he told me to offer my tale in chronological order to tease me. I hate being teased.
But he was my master-for another three days-and I did as he asked. We sat in front of the dying fire, and I told him about Barthelm and Mayella Meadowbrock's repast being interrupted by Grodoveth, Mayor Tobald's guest, and what the tailor had told me about the man.
Benelaius nodded sagely. "Yes. I know of the envoy. He was doing quite nicely for himself in Suzail, having married King Azoun's cousin Beatrice, when he dishonored himself and embarrassed the throne by an idiotic act of casual wantonness. His 'reward' was to ride from one small town to another, with that blustering Sarp Redbeard as his supervisor. Very demeaning. Quite a comedown for a man with an ego so huge."
"What, um, was the 'act of casual wantonness'?" I asked. "Nothing for you to be concerned about. Then what happened?"
I told him about Shortshanks's fury over the Swamp Rat, Tobald's little altercation with Mayella's dog, Dovo and Rolf's battle over Mayella, the subsequent departure of the Meadowbrocks, and Grodoveth's unsuccessful attempt at romance with Kendra-in short, all those little events that make small-town life so interesting.
At last, I concluded, "And then, of course, I saw Fastred's ghost, and that's the evening in a nutshell." I stood, stretched, and yawned. "Well, good night, master."
"Good night, Jasper," the wizard said, putting his head back in his easy chair and closing his eyes.
My bluff had not worked. "Master?" I said.
"Mmm?"
"Don't you want to hear about the ghost?"
He opened one eye. "If you wish to tell me."