Nor Iron Bars A Cage (6 page)

I had to cut this off right here. “I’m not a virgin,” I said flatly. I set my feet onto the floor and pushed upright. “So now what? What should I pack? Will I need court clothes, because I don’t have any.”

He stared at me. “You’re coming?”

“Do I have a choice? I’ve pulled out all the stops, I asked, I
begged,
bargained and whined, and I haven’t shifted you. I remember how stubborn you are. So it looks like I’m going with you.” It felt oddly freeing to say so.

He looked pained and dropped his eyes. “I don’t understand you,” he said. “At all. But yes, we still have to go. So if you’re willing, now, somehow, then pack whatever you wish to have with you for three weeks, with travel. Don’t worry about fine clothes. If King Faro wants you in court finery, he’ll buy it for you.”

“This is my best shirt. Although hardly fit for court.” I stretched my arms upward, knowing that it had become short with many washings, and that the action would bare my midriff to his eyes. There at least I was muscled and toned and sleek, if a bit pale, and I wanted to shake him out of thinking of me as a victim.

“I like the shirt,” he muttered. “Bring it.”

I took the way his eyes followed me across the room as a sign he’d noticed. Although he might have just been making sure I wouldn’t go for my knife, sitting where he’d put it onto the counter not six feet away. The edge of the blade was dull with blood. I’d have to clean it soon. Or make him do it.

****

He made me try to sleep before we left. I didn’t think I could, especially with him there in my house, but I caught a couple of misty hours, drifting in and out on the edges of unconsciousness. I didn’t want to go too deep anyway. After that waking remembrance, I wasn’t sure what my dreams might be.

When the sun rose, I got up and went into the garderobe with a pitcher of water to wash and dress. I felt sticky with the sweat of old nightmares and wished I could have a bath, but heating and carrying water to fill the tin tub would take half the morning. I did the best I could with a cloth.

I chose sturdy clothes for traveling, and tucked my shirt into my trousers, with a good leather belt round me. I chose long thick stockings to go under my boots, and pulled a warm knit vest over the shirt. We’d be five nights on the trail, according to Tobin, and it would still get cold. I combed my hair, untangling it to lie sleek past the nape of my neck. My hair was more trouble long, but Meldov had made me wear it short, and its length was now one more choice I kept for myself.

And Tobin had liked it.
Maybe I should cut it after all. I lifted the long strands at my neck in my hand, considering. But cutting hair, at least any shorter than a horse-tail I could tie up and saw through with a knife, was not a task for a one-handed man. All right, there were several reasons I kept it this length.
Pathetic, that I couldn’t sit still under the village barber’s hand for a trim. But there it was.

When I finally emerged, Tobin gave me a shrewd glance. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d drowned yourself in the ewer. Second thoughts?”

“My hair had knots.” I tossed my head to let it fall further across my eyes.

He grunted and hefted my pack. “We’ll walk to the village and make arrangements for your house. And get the horses.”

“You could go do that and fetch the horses while I water the garden,” I said.

“You watered yesterday. No.”

“Afraid I’ll change my mind?”

I could see that he was, but he said, “Seizing the moment.”

I took the pack from him and slung it on my back. He picked up my bedroll, and the second bag, grunting at the weight. “What did you put in here?”

“Books. You saw me.”

“Yeah. Didn’t realize how heavy they were. Do you really need all of these?”

If he didn’t want me to spend my nights pacing.
I gave him the short answer. “Yes.”

He didn’t argue, just hooked it over his shoulder. I paused for one last look around. This had been home and refuge, and prison at times, for so long. I’d thought I’d never leave it alive. If they’d sent anyone else after me, I might not have.

My other books on the shelves were wrapped to keep out damp and insects. We’d nailed several layers of oilcloth over the broken window too, and the interior was almost as dim as the onset of night. The dishes were clean, the food packed for the road or stored in its tins for safekeeping. The bedclothes were stripped off and bundled with my bedroll. What I wasn’t taking, Dag’s mother could fetch to launder and send back with him. Already the place looked dingy and unused.

On the sills and the lintel of the door, my spells were visible as a fine burned tracery in the wood. Spells of banishment, of warding, of life-not-death. Tonight I’d be sleeping outside those wards. I was tempted to claim the call of nature and barricade myself in the garderobe after all. But the time for that had passed.

“I’ll get you a new window,” Tobin promised. “A better one. I took measurements and I’ll order it in the city. A single pane even. We can bring it back with us.”

I shrugged. I had the feeling I’d never come back.

Still, I pulled the door shut behind me, and set the bar. No sense leaving the place wide open. I tugged my pack higher on my shoulders and set off down the path. This was still familiar territory. For the last decade, I’d been to the village every month or so, and sometimes even on to the town, on market days. I might live alone, but I didn’t make my own boots or my own tools. Some commerce was necessary. Walking down this way with Tobin at my shoulder made it new, though. His footsteps behind me and the weight on my back were reminders with every yard we covered that I wasn’t coming right back.

Despite the cool of the morning, I could feel sweat on my face. I wished I’d tied my hair back that morning, but then, loose and long made it convenient for hiding behind. I might need that screen before the day was done. We walked in silence, as the sun rose to clear the trees.

At the village, I went to visit Mother Fiona, while Tobin headed to the inn to retrieve his horses and pay his shot. When I told her where I was headed and what I wanted, she gave me a long look. “Might be a good thing. You’re too young a man to be a hermit.”

“Not so young as that,” I protested. “And my hermitage was a sight more comfortable than this trip will be.”

“Comfort isn’t everything. And you’re younger than me anyway. Go have an adventure. Come back and tell us about it.” She smiled at me.

Dag got his smile from her. It seemed genuine. I wondered if she was maybe tired out from taking sole care of a house and children for years, and was wishing she was the one going. But when little Guinna ran up, Fiona’s face lit with affection.

“Mama, Dag says the stranger with the horses is getting them ready to travel. Can I go see?”

“Better stay out of the way, childling.”

The little girl’s eyes teared up. I heard myself say, “Those horses belong to a friend of mine. Would you really like to see them?”

“Oh yes.” She grinned up at me, a gap where her middle teeth had been. “They’re big ’uns, and shiny and black. Like king’s horses. You’ve never seen the like.”

Her mother laughed. “I’m betting Mister Lyon’s seen far more exciting things than that, but if he’ll take you, you can go.” She nodded to me. “Send her back with Dag. I need the boy anyway.”

Guinna squealed, “Thank you!” She bounced up and down. “Can we hurry? He’s grooming them now, so it won’t be much longer.”

I handed her mother a small stack of coins. “I should be back in three weeks. If I’m not I’ll send word.”

“We’ll keep your place nice for you.”

“Thank you.” I was surprised by a sudden reluctance to say farewell to her. She just gave me a nod, though, and went back in to her baking.

Guinna skipped along beside me as I walked up the rutted lane to the inn. “This is so great! No one good ever stays here. Those horses are the best. They’d make two of Farmer Comnal’s brown stud. And he’s the finest beast for miles. I wonder what load they can pull. Do you know? Do you reckon your friend might know?”

“If they’re riding horses, they’re not bred to pull loads,” I said bemusedly.

“But they
could.
’Cause a horse is a horse.”

“I suppose so.”

The inn was barely worthy of the name— two guest rooms upstairs and stabling for four horses. The pair of blacks that Tobin had hitched to the rail for saddling had drawn quite a crowd. They were true king’s horses, with rumps round as apples and coats like black sunshine. Even standing there, hips askew, resting a hoof, you could tell they were made for both speed and endurance. I had a moment’s qualm. I’d loved horses as a boy, but riding was another thing I hadn’t done for fifteen years.

Tobin lifted his head from picking out a hoof and saw me. The relief on his face made me wonder if he’d worried I might take the chance to run away. The crowd parted to let me through, with little Guinna dogging my heels.

“Almost ready?” I asked.

“Just give me your bag and I’ll put it in the pack.”

I handed over the rucksack and he settled it carefully behind the saddle of the smaller gelding, adjusting it and tying the load so it wouldn’t shift or chafe.

Behind me, someone said, “Th’art leaving then, Mister Lyon?”

Before I could answer, Guinna spoke up. “He’s going for three whole weeks and to the city an’ all. But he’ll be back. My mum is keeping his place ever-so. And he said I could see the horses.”

Tobin laughed with the rest and then bent to her level. “Who are you, missy, who wants to see a war horse up close.”

“I’m Guinna.” But her thumb crept toward her mouth at being addressed by a stranger. “Are they really fighting war-horses? Sir? M’lord?”

“No, hon, no fear,” Tobin said. “They don’t fight now. They’re fast runners though. Would you like to sit one? Just for a moment?”

“
Could I?
” The thumb was forgotten in the glory of that vision.

I caught sight of Dag in the crowd, scowling, and saw the other children gathered there. I leaned toward Tobin to mutter, “If you let her, you’ll have to let the lot of them. Or at least her brother, or I may come home to rats in the pantry.”

Tobin laughed, and for a moment he looked as young and cheerful as Dag had been two days ago. “Why not.
‘Begin a trip with a kindness, and good fortune will follow you.’
We can afford a few minutes.”

“Still a sucker for the kids,” I muttered. I stood against the stable wall and watched, while he lifted one small child after another into the saddle of his horse and led them around. Then a couple of the boys were let ride by themselves to the paddock fence and back. Dag didn’t step forward. The others had all been younger.

I knew he’d ridden their old plow horse since before he could walk. I called out, “Hey Dag?”

He hurried to me. “Yes, Mister Lyon?”

“It’s been a while since I was on a horse. You think you could get on mine and give him a quick turn, down to the lane and back? Take the buck out of him before I get on?”

“I could, sir!”

“Go on then.”

He turned to the horses, and despite his eagerness, managed to walk over slow enough not to startle them. He untied my horse’s leadrope, scrambled into the saddle without use of the stirrups, and gathered up the reins. Tobin turned to me with an eyebrow raised, but I shrugged. If Dag couldn’t handle the beast, I was going to be in trouble myself.

He turned toward the road, and gave the horse’s silken sides a kick that made me wince. I should perhaps have warned him. The gelding’s first plunge forward nearly unseated him, but he clung to the saddle like a burr, and a hundred yards down the lane he successfully pulled the horse to a walk, and turned for home. When he reached me, he slid out of the saddle, landing with a thump. He handed me the reins. “He’s a beauty, sir. Smooth as satin, and not a foot wrong!”

“Thank you.”

Tobin helped another gangling young boy down from his mount and said, “Time for us to go.”

I started to mount, and found it an awkward business, with my right hand useless to grab stirrup or cantle. My mount was tall enough to have me bouncing around on one foot, trying for leverage. Somehow, I made it aboard. When I glanced over at Tobin he was adjusting the length of his stirrup and not looking my way. Good.

The village constable came toward me. “Fare well, Mister Lyon. We’ll hope to see you back soon and in good health. And I’ll keep an extra watch on your place.” He directed a glare at someone in the crowd.

“Thank you.”

Tobin wheeled his horse toward the road and mine followed suit unasked. I saw more familiar faces than I realized I knew, as we trotted easily down the center of the village and out into the countryside. Some of them smiled and waved, their expressions open and easy. I wondered if any of them knew what I’d once been.

Once out of town, Tobin reined his horse back alongside mine and grinned at me. “Canter?”

“Sure.” Bravado maybe, but it had to better than the damned trot. I’d forgotten how to relax into the gait, and both my horse and I would be sore soon at this rate. Tobin gave a whoop and set his mount loose. It was more a controlled gallop than a canter, but I gave mine its head and chased him.

It was exhilarating, in a mad reckless way, to be charging across the countryside into the unknown with the wind in my hair and the sun on my face. After the first few minutes of holding on for dear life, my body somehow remembered the way of it, and I relaxed. And Dag had been right about the gelding’s gaits. I’d never had a smoother ride. Tobin’s was faster, but after a while he pulled back to let me come even with him. I had no breath for speech, even if we could have heard each other over the pounding hooves, but I glanced over at him and smiled.

When the horses began blowing and sweating, we reined back to a fast walk. Tobin said, “So good! It’s been a lifetime since I rode out with you.”

“Yes.” We’d mostly run about his father’s land or the city on foot as youngsters. Only after he’d begun training, and I’d started my apprenticeship, had we both had horses to ride. A few golden afternoons when we’d managed to meet up for an adventure, before the end. I tried not to let my mind go to dark places, not now, when I was having my first new adventure in years. Even if not by choice. “Tell me what you’ve been up to. Where have you traveled? What’s your brother up to?”