The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [85]
“Stupid…really stupid, Lerris…”
Somehow, things kept getting in the way. I had forgotten to stop at the market square in Freetown because I had wanted to get clear of the town. That decision had been sound, but there was no place on the road to Hrisbarg, and I had been forced out of Hrisbarg and on to Howlett. Now I really didn’t dare to go back into the inn…not after what I had seen of Antonin, and what Justen had said. Still, perhaps there was a general store or something, among the buildings standing in the sea of frozen mud around the inn, where I could buy some sort of provisions, including some blankets or the equivalent.
I shook my head, then followed Justen’s example by shoving the straw back into place and by shaking out my cloak. My teeth felt fuzzy, my stomach empty, and my muscles sore. I checked my pack, then gathered both staff and pack for the descent to the stable.
Creeaaa…aaakkk…The stable door opened, then slid shut again. I ducked back out of sight.
“Good morning…” Justen’s head popped through the opening from the stable. “Give me a hand, would you?”
I was glad to, since he had two steaming mugs, and a large platter, covered with a ragged cloth, which also steamed.
“I thought you might like something to eat before we left.” He easily sat cross-legged on the hard floor and picked up one of the cups, easing the cloth off the platter and revealing four large bran biscuits and a battered apple.
I sipped the cider, warm but not burning, and overspiced with cloves. The warmth and the liquid helped ease the headache I hadn’t realized I had.
“You know, young friend, it would help if I knew your name, or at least what you would like to be called.” Justen took a large bite from the biscuit he held.
“Sorry…it’s Lerris,” I mumbled, trying not to lose any of the biscuit crumbs. While bran biscuits wouldn’t have been my choice for breakfast, my stomach received them gratefully. “You’re Justen?”
He nodded. “Otherwise known as the gray wizard, that damned fool, and other less flattering terms.” A deep swallow from the battered earthenware cup followed. “The apple’s yours.”
I didn’t protest, and ate it right down to the core, squishy spots and all.
“Antonin has been requested to assist the new Duke of Freetown…”
“Oh…he told you that? But he was already in Freetown.”
“Does that matter? He serves whoever pays,” snorted Justen. “He didn’t tell me, though. He told one of his guards, who told Fedelia, who told someone else.” The wizard finished his second biscuit and topped it off with the remaining cider from his mug.
Rather than answer immediately, I chewed the last of my second biscuit. “The old duke’s actions seemed designed to anger many people.”
“Particularly Recluce,” observed Justen dryly. He stood up and brushed a few crumbs from his cloak and trousers.
“What would Recluce do?”
“Nothing major—besides flooding the duchy, ruining the fall hay, and ensuring that no major trade flowed through Freetown until the duke’s death. Nothing besides destroying—publicly, and with a woman—his champion, and presumably using the same woman to assassinate him in his own castle.”
I shook my head. “All of that scarcely seems possible.”
“Not any more possible than an untrained blackstaffer escaping the duke’s guards, riding the deadlands untouched, and avoiding the attention of the most powerful white wizard in Candar.”
I tried not to shiver at his matter-of-fact words, instead following his example of standing and brushing away the crumbs. “What next? Is there anywhere I can get some trail food and some blankets and a waterproof travel cloth?”
Justen shrugged theatrically. “That’s no problem at all. Expensive here in Howlett, but…necessary.”
“Why…why are you helping me?”
“Who said I was? I’m more interested