The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [43]
Rosette blinked. For a moment, the animal completely transformed. Clay stroked his neck when he started to whinny again, his whole body vibrating with the sound as he started to prance on the spot.
Rosette frowned and looked again. She wondered if she had imagined it, because now his head was drooping, his ears floppy, and his walk languid, back toes dragging over the cobbles as he barely lifted his feet. Clay continued stroking his shoulder, saying something she couldn’t quite catch.
She was puzzled, but turned away to head for the demonstration grounds. ‘Come on, Dray. Let’s go.’
There’re many people here.
‘I know, my lovely. It’ll be all right. Just stick close to me.’
Clay led Dozer to the stables, cursing under his breath. The horse’s head had lifted again as they got closer, his ears tense, nostrils whiffing in the scents. The beast’s languid act was over. When he pulled back on the bridle Dozer broke into a piaffe, an exaggerated slowmotion trot. Clay quickly moved his feet as the hooves thundered down. He couldn’t keep him subdued any longer.
Dozer knew the way. They both did. The hesitation in front of the guards, the drowsy draughthorse routine—it was all a performance. Clay restrained the stallion as best he could, his right arm raised, holding the reins tight against Dozer’s shoulder, pressing his elbow into him for leverage. He had to jog to keep up. The cue to wilt like a worn-out mule was no longer working. The warhorse was too close to home.
Never mind. Clay had accomplished his task. He had Rosette’s confidence and her worldly possessions, all in one pleasant morning’s work. The temple cat seemed quite tame and controllable too. He’d be okay as long as Rosette didn’t suspect anything, and clearly she didn’t. The only problem now was his conscience.
Before he’d met Rosette, it had sounded like an easy task for a hard-up bard—a simple way to make some quick coin. All they’d wanted him to do was meet the girl, gain her trust and get her to hand over her pack. Demons, he’d come close to getting a good romp with her on the side. She might have been keen, if there’d been more time. Unfortunately there hadn’t, and now he wanted to get away. Quickly.
Even if they asked him to stay on, offered him more gold, he would refuse. It surprised him, but he didn’t want to continue deceiving her. She’d given him nothing but kindness and good company, and in return he fed her lies. It made him sick. If they asked, he’d say no, wouldn’t he? He bit his lower lip.
Honestly? I’d grit my teeth and do it.
Clay reined the massive horse back when he surged ahead. ‘Steady, boy. You did well.’
His mind was spinning. He needed the gold, and surely they wouldn’t harm her. That hadn’t seemed their intention. He wasn’t really certain why they wanted her watched, or planned to go through her things. She was a witch of Treeon now. Why would they be suspicious of their own? Of course, Clay wasn’t sure who they were or how many were involved. This morning, when he’d awoken in a clean bed with a spectacular breakfast of fruit, bread, eggs and ham awaiting him, he hadn’t cared. Now that he had met Rosette, he did.
She had a revitalising effect on him. She made him want to write new songs, travel to new regions, work harder at his craft. He even felt the hankering to train again with the sword and improve his equestrian skills. His left hand twitched at the thought, a familiar ache.
‘You cut that close,’ a man called out, striding towards him from the stables. ‘What took you so long?’
‘We stopped for lunch,’ Clay said, handing over Dozer’s reins. ‘And this beast of yours was slow as winter honey. Quite lethargic, the perfect draught horse until we came within sight of his stall.’
‘Did she notice?’
‘Nah. You’ve trained him well.’
‘I train them all well,’ he said, slapping Dozer’s neck and giving a light tug to his mane.
Sure enough, in the hands of his master, Dozer stopped pulling to get ahead. He walked along,