After three days during which Tracker and I returned to our
landing place, loaded the wagon, then headed north on the Salient
Road, I began to wonder if I had not erred. Still no Goblin or
One-Eye.
I need not have been concerned. They caught up near Meystrikt, a
fortress in the Salient the Company once held on behalf of the
Lady. We were off the road, in some woods, getting ready for
supper. We heard a ruckus on the road.
A voice undeniably Goblin’s shouted, “And I insist
it’s your fault, you maggot-lipped excuse for fish bait.
I’d turn your brain into pudding for getting me into it if
you had one.”
“My fault. My fault. Gods! He even lies to himself. I had
to talk him into his own idea? Look there, guano breath. Meystrikt
is around that hill. They’ll remember us even better than
they did in Roses. Now I’m going to ask you once. How do we
get through without getting our throats cut?”
After an initial relief I halted my rush toward the road. I told
Tracker, “They’re riding. Where do you suppose they got
horses?” I tried finding a bright side. “Maybe they got
into a game and got away with cheating. If One-Eye let Goblin do
it.” One-Eye is as inept at cheating as at games of chance
themselves. There are times I think he has a positive death
wish.
“You and your damned amulet,” Goblin squeaked.
“The Lady can’t find him. That’s great. But
neither can we.”
“My amulet? My amulet? Who the hell gave it to him in the
first place?”
“Who designed the spell that’s on it now?”
“Who cast it? Tell me that, toad face. Tell me
that.”
I moved to the edge of the woods. They had passed already.
Tracker joined me. Even Toadkiller Dog came to watch.
“Freeze, Rebel!” I shouted. “First one moves
is dead meat.”
Stupid, Croaker. Real stupid. Their response was swift and
gaudy. It damned near killed me.
They vanished in shining clouds. Around Tracker and me insects
erupted. More kinds of bugs than I imagined existed, every one
interested only in having me for supper.
Toadkiller Dog snarled and snapped.
“Knock it off, you clowns,” I yelled.
“It’s me. Croaker.”
“Who’s Croaker?” One-Eye asked Goblin.
“You know anybody named Croaker?”
“Yeah. But I don’t think we ought to stop,”
Goblin replied, after sticking his head out of the shining to
check. “He deserves it.”
“Sure,” One-Eye agreed. “But Tracker is
innocent. I can’t fine-tune it enough to get just
Croaker.”
The bugs returned to routine bug business. Eating each other, I
guess. I constrained my anger and greeted One-Eye and Goblin, both
of whom had donned expressions of innocence and contrition.
“What you got to say for yourselves, guys? Nice horses. Think
the people they belong to will come looking for them?”
“Wait up,” Goblin squawked. “Don’t go
accusing us of . . . ”
“I know you guys. Get down off those animals and come eat.
We’ll decide what to do with them tomorrow.”
I turned my back on them. Tracker had returned to our cook fire
already. He dished up supper. I went to work on it, my temper still
frayed. Stupid move, stealing horses. What with the uproar they had
caused already . . . The Lady has agents
everywhere. We may not be enemies of the grand sort, but we are
what she has. Someone was bound to conclude that the Black Company
was back in the north.
I fell asleep contemplating turning back. The least likely
direction for hunters to look would be on the route to the Plain of
Fear. But I could not give the order. Too much depended on us.
Though now my earlier optimism stood in serious jeopardy.
Damned irresponsible clowns.
Way back down the line the Captain, who perished at Juniper,
must have felt the same. We all gave him cause.
I braced for a golden dream. I slept restlessly. No dream came.
Next morning I packed Goblin and One-Eye into the wagon, beneath
all the clutter we deemed necessary for our expedition, abandoned
the horses, and took the wagon past Meystrikt. Toadkiller Dog ran
point. Tracker strolled along beside. I drove. Under the tucker,
Goblin and One-Eye sputtered and grumbled. The garrison at the fort
merely asked where we were bound, in such a bored manner I knew
they did not care.
These lands had been tamed since last I passed through. This
garrison could not conceive of trouble lifting its naughty
head.
Relieved, I turned up the road that led to Elm and Oar. And to
the Great Forest beyond.
After three days during which Tracker and I returned to our
landing place, loaded the wagon, then headed north on the Salient
Road, I began to wonder if I had not erred. Still no Goblin or
One-Eye.
I need not have been concerned. They caught up near Meystrikt, a
fortress in the Salient the Company once held on behalf of the
Lady. We were off the road, in some woods, getting ready for
supper. We heard a ruckus on the road.
A voice undeniably Goblin’s shouted, “And I insist
it’s your fault, you maggot-lipped excuse for fish bait.
I’d turn your brain into pudding for getting me into it if
you had one.”
“My fault. My fault. Gods! He even lies to himself. I had
to talk him into his own idea? Look there, guano breath. Meystrikt
is around that hill. They’ll remember us even better than
they did in Roses. Now I’m going to ask you once. How do we
get through without getting our throats cut?”
After an initial relief I halted my rush toward the road. I told
Tracker, “They’re riding. Where do you suppose they got
horses?” I tried finding a bright side. “Maybe they got
into a game and got away with cheating. If One-Eye let Goblin do
it.” One-Eye is as inept at cheating as at games of chance
themselves. There are times I think he has a positive death
wish.
“You and your damned amulet,” Goblin squeaked.
“The Lady can’t find him. That’s great. But
neither can we.”
“My amulet? My amulet? Who the hell gave it to him in the
first place?”
“Who designed the spell that’s on it now?”
“Who cast it? Tell me that, toad face. Tell me
that.”
I moved to the edge of the woods. They had passed already.
Tracker joined me. Even Toadkiller Dog came to watch.
“Freeze, Rebel!” I shouted. “First one moves
is dead meat.”
Stupid, Croaker. Real stupid. Their response was swift and
gaudy. It damned near killed me.
They vanished in shining clouds. Around Tracker and me insects
erupted. More kinds of bugs than I imagined existed, every one
interested only in having me for supper.
Toadkiller Dog snarled and snapped.
“Knock it off, you clowns,” I yelled.
“It’s me. Croaker.”
“Who’s Croaker?” One-Eye asked Goblin.
“You know anybody named Croaker?”
“Yeah. But I don’t think we ought to stop,”
Goblin replied, after sticking his head out of the shining to
check. “He deserves it.”
“Sure,” One-Eye agreed. “But Tracker is
innocent. I can’t fine-tune it enough to get just
Croaker.”
The bugs returned to routine bug business. Eating each other, I
guess. I constrained my anger and greeted One-Eye and Goblin, both
of whom had donned expressions of innocence and contrition.
“What you got to say for yourselves, guys? Nice horses. Think
the people they belong to will come looking for them?”
“Wait up,” Goblin squawked. “Don’t go
accusing us of . . . ”
“I know you guys. Get down off those animals and come eat.
We’ll decide what to do with them tomorrow.”
I turned my back on them. Tracker had returned to our cook fire
already. He dished up supper. I went to work on it, my temper still
frayed. Stupid move, stealing horses. What with the uproar they had
caused already . . . The Lady has agents
everywhere. We may not be enemies of the grand sort, but we are
what she has. Someone was bound to conclude that the Black Company
was back in the north.
I fell asleep contemplating turning back. The least likely
direction for hunters to look would be on the route to the Plain of
Fear. But I could not give the order. Too much depended on us.
Though now my earlier optimism stood in serious jeopardy.
Damned irresponsible clowns.
Way back down the line the Captain, who perished at Juniper,
must have felt the same. We all gave him cause.
I braced for a golden dream. I slept restlessly. No dream came.
Next morning I packed Goblin and One-Eye into the wagon, beneath
all the clutter we deemed necessary for our expedition, abandoned
the horses, and took the wagon past Meystrikt. Toadkiller Dog ran
point. Tracker strolled along beside. I drove. Under the tucker,
Goblin and One-Eye sputtered and grumbled. The garrison at the fort
merely asked where we were bound, in such a bored manner I knew
they did not care.
These lands had been tamed since last I passed through. This
garrison could not conceive of trouble lifting its naughty
head.
Relieved, I turned up the road that led to Elm and Oar. And to
the Great Forest beyond.