Fool's Errand (Tawny Man #1)

Fool's Errand (Tawny Man #1) Page 122

Laurel's eyes grew thoughtful as she toted up the years. “Seven years now,” she said quietly.

“Ah. Then you know her well,” I rejoined, wondering how much she truly knew of our present errand.

“Well enough,” Laurel replied, and I could almost see her wondering the same about me.

I cleared my throat. “Lord Golden visits Galeton in search of gamebirds. He has a passion for collecting feathers, you know.” I did not directly ask any question.

She looked at me from the corner of her eye. “Lord Golden has many passions, it is said,” she observed in a, low voice. “And the funds to indulge them all.” She gave me another glance, as if to ask if I would defend my master, but if there was an insult, I did not take its meaning. She looked ahead and spoke on. “As for me, I but travel along to scout the hunting for my Queen. She likes to go after game birds in the autumn. have hopes that in Galeton woods we may find the kind that she likes best.”

“So do we all hope,” agreed. I liked her caution. We would get along well enough, I decided.

“Have you known Lord Golden long?” she asked me. “Not directly,” I hedged. “I had heard he was looking for a man, and I was glad when an acquaintance recommended me.”

“Then you've done this kind of work before?” “Not for some time. For the past ten years or so I've lived quietly, just my boy and me. But he's of an age to apprentice out, and that takes hard coin. This is the fastest way I know to earn it.”

“And his mother?” she asked lightly. “Won't she be lonely with both of you away?”

“She's gone many years,” I said. Then, realizing that Hap might sometime venture up to Buckkeep, I decided to keep as close to the truth as I could. “He's a fosterling I took in. I never knew his mother. But I think of him as my son.” “You're not married, then?” The question surprised me. “No, I'm not.” “Neither am I.” She gave me a small smile as if to say this gave us much in common. “So, how do you like Buckkeep so far?”

“Well enough. I lived close by when I was a boy. It's changed a great deal since then.”

“I'm from Tilth myself. Up on the Branedee Downs is where I grew up, though my mother was from Buck. Her family lived not far from Galeton; I know the area, for I ranged there as a child. But mostly we lived near the Downs, where my father was Huntsman for Lord Sitswell. My father taught both my brothers and me the skills of being a Huntsman. When he died, my older brother took his position. My younger brother returned to live amongst my mother's people. I stayed on, mostly training the coursing horses in Lord Sitswell's stable. But when the Queen and her party came hunting there years ago, I turned out to help, for the party was so large. The Queen took a liking to me, and” she grinned proudly “I've been her Huntswoman ever since.” was trying to think of something more to say when Lord Golden beckoned us both to come closer.

I urged the black forward, and when we were close, he announced, “Those were the last of the houses for a way. I did not want folks saying that we rode in great haste, but neither do wish to miss this evening's only ferry from Lampcross. So now, good people, we ride. And Badgerlock, we'll see if that black is truly as fleet as the horse seller said. Keep up as best you can. I'll hold the ferry for us all.” So saying, he touched his heels to Malta and let out her reins. It was all the permission she required. She sprang forward, showing us her heels.

“My Whitecap can match her any day!” Laurel proclaimed, and gave her horse his head.

Catch them! I suggested to the black, and was almost shocked at her competitive response. From a walk, she all but leapt into a run. The smaller horses had the lead on us. Packed mud flew up from their hooves, and Malta led only by virtue of the narrowing trail. My black's longer stride diminished their lead until we were close behind them, getting the full benefit of the mud they threw. The sound of us at their heels spurred them to greater effort and once more they pulled ahead of us. But I could feel that my black had not yet hit her peak. There was still unrealized reach in her stride, and the tempo of her gait said that she had not reached her hardest gallop. I tried to hold her back where the flying clods would not shower us so heartily, but she paid no heed to the rein. The moment the trail widened, -si, she surged forward into the gap, and in a few strides she passed them both. I heard them both cry out to their horses, and I thought they would overtake us. But like a lengthening wolfhound on the scent, my black reached out to seize even longer strides of the path and fling it behind us. I glanced back at them once, to see both their faces alight with the challenge.