The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [74]
“My apologies, officer. But the stableboy is ill…”
“Leave that pony, man, and take care of a real horse!”
“Yes, sir,” I answered. “The end stall on the right is the only one free. It’s dry and clean.” While I wanted to clunk the arrogant bastard on the skull, I doubted that I could have reached the staff before ending up spitted on his saber.
“That’s fine, but make sure he gets a rubdown and a brushing…and no cold water, or I’ll drown you in it.” He thrust the reins at me.
“Yes, sir.” I took the damp leathers and chucked them. The horse was better-trained or less stubborn than the ones I’d seen at Felshar’s. He actually followed me. The cavalryman watched to make sure I was headed where I said.
“Who has the pony?”
I did not turn, but gave a shrug. “Young fellow, not much older than me.”
“I’ll be back in a shake, man, and don’t forget it.”
Sploosh…sploosh… His steps toward the inn were quick.
I wrapped the reins around a post, tying them in a quick knot that I yanked tight. Then I dashed for Gairloch, untying his leathers, and scrambled into the saddle right inside the stable. I remembered to duck as we stepped into the downpour. I was still trying to get on my gloves as he stepped through the open doorway.
Whhnnnnn…
Clearly, the cold rain on his face did not please him, but when the latest cavalry officer and the majer got together, I definitely didn’t want to be around.
I kicked Gairloch gently with my heels and he began to walk, then trot. I grabbed his mane to steady myself, but let him move. The rain, like icy needles, lashed at my unprotected face and head, since I hadn’t bothered with the cloak’s hood.
I was lucky I’d even remembered the cloak, the way things were going.
Guiding Gairloch around the small lake that covered half the road in front of the dry-goods store, I looked ahead, trying to make out the turn where the road to Howlett began. Supposedly Hrisbarg was one of the wool towns, the only one inside the duchy. Howlett was a wool town, too, but it was across the border in Montgren, another duchy, except it was ruled by a countess who didn’t like the duke.
I chucked the reins again once we were back into the more solid mud.
“Halt! In the name of Candar! Rogue wizard! Rogue wizard!”
We were turning onto the lane that stretched ahead to the Howlett road. I kicked Gairloch in the flanks again, and he began to run, but only for perhaps a hundred cubits before he settled back to a quick walk.
Clang! Clang!
For all the shouts by the cavalry officer and the chimes on the alarm, no one followed us, at least not immediately and not that I could tell. It seemed pretty stupid. I mean, just because someone thought I was a blackstaff from Recluce, and just because I left in a storm, the idiot was trying to rouse the whole town of Hrisbarg.
Then again, I had been lucky, damned lucky that I looked so young. Why was everyone on the entire continent out against anyone from Recluce? Just what had happened in Freetown?
I kept looking over my shoulder, trying to feel whether anyone chased us, but could not see or feel anyone. All I felt was the rain, the ice, and the cold.
The road was empty, at least as far ahead as I could see through the mist and the rain. As Gairloch settled into a walk, I leaned next to the staff, nearly brushing it with my cheek before drawing back from the heat.
Trying to feel what might be around, I reached out with my feelings, my thoughts, trying to get a sense of chaos…anywhere. Other than a vague sense of unease connected with the road ahead, I could find nothing.
The staff cooled as we rode westward through the mud and rain. Traveling the road to Howlett was worse than the road from Freetown had been. Water slopped out of the sky and froze in chunks on the browned and dead grasses. The rain coated the oaks with ice sheaths, and turned the thorn bushes that twisted from the shardstone road walls into a tangled crystalline barrier.
The road itself—half ice, half black mud—squuushed with every step Gairloch took. Once again, I missed the desolate wizard