Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 (65 page)

But
Harp,
and
Fidget,
and
Spider
...

"Drive
on,"
the
Leader
told
the
Archer,
and
with
a
command
and
a
snap
of
the
reins
the
Archer
set
the
oxen
in
motion
and
the
wagon
rolling.

Breaker,
the
Leader,
and
the
Speaker
scrambled
back
inside
as
the
rain
began
anew,
and
for
the
next
half-hour
or
so, after
the
Beauty,
the
Scholar,
and
the
Seer
had
been
informed
what
the
ox
had
said,
the
party
concentrated
on learning
from
the
Speaker
the
true
names
of
the
oxen.
Their pronunciation
did
not
come
naturally
to
human
throats.

Only
after
conversation
had
ceased,
bringing
what
might have
been
called
a
companionable
silence
had
it
not
been
for the
creaking
of
wheels
and
the
constant
roar
of
the
rain,
did the
Beauty
stir
and
ask,
"Is
anyone
considering
it?"

Breaker
glanced
at
her
scarf-wrapped
face
and
those deep,
lovely
eyes,
gleaming
warmly
in
the
golden
lantern-light.

"No,
of
course
not,"
the
Leader
replied. "Considering
what?"
the
Scholar
asked. "Turning
back,"
the
Beauty
said.
"Letting
the
Wizard Lord
be."
"Oh."

There
was
a
moment
of
embarrassed
quasi-silence;
then the
Scholar
coughed,
breaking
the
tension. "This
dampness
is
getting
to
me,"
he
muttered. "When
will
we
reach
the
Thief's
house,
Seer?"
the
Leader asked,
and
the
conversation
turned
to
distances
and
routes and
speeds—but
Breaker
found
himself
watching
the Beauty,
and
saw
that
her
eyes,
all
he
could
see
of
her,
were troubled.

 
The
Thief's
home
stood
in
a
broad
brownish
green
I
lake;
the
constant
rain
had
flooded
the
low-lying
 
surrounding
yard
three
or
four
inches
deep,
so
that
the gardens
and
grasses
brushed
the
water's
surface
from
below, and
a
few
yellow
flowers
still
thrust
up
defiant
blossoms. Rather
than
force
the
oxen
down
into
the
water
the
party
settled
the
wagon
into
a
secure
and
level
position
on
the
road above,
the
wheels
firmly
in
ruts
so
that
it
could
not
slip
sideways
from
its
place,
before
debarking.

From
there,
a
delegation
emerged,
wrapped
in
their cloaks—the
Seer
to
locate
her,
the
Leader
to
persuade
her, the
Speaker
to
consult
the
local
ler,
and
the
Swordsman
to defend
them
from
any
physical
threats.
The
Archer,
the Beauty,
and
the
Scholar
remained
with
the
wagon
as
the
chosen
four
splashed
down
the
path
toward
the
door.

The
low
step
at
the
threshold
was
awash;
Breaker
looked down
at
it
and
judged
that
the
entire
house
must
be
on
the verge
of
flooding;
water
would
already
be
seeping
in
under the
door.
"Are
you
sure
she's
still
here?"
he
asked
the
Seer. "She's
here,"
the
Seer
replied
grimly. Breaker
shrugged,
then
knocked
on
the
door—loudly,
so as
to
be
heard
over
the
rain.
Beside
him
the
Leader
straightened
his
cloak
and
lifted
each
foot
in
turn
to
drain
some
of the
water
from
his
boots,
then
stood
ready.

"Your
magic
won't
really
work
on
her,
you
know,"
the Seer
said,
glancing
at
him.

"Oh,
I
know
that,"
the
Leader
said,
"but
I
was
a
persuasive fellow
even
before
I
got
my
talisman."

Breaker
looked
from
the
door
to
the
Leader,
and
was
turning
back
to
the
door,
preparing
to
knock
again,
when
a movement
caught
his
eye.
He
looked
up.

A
raccoon
was
perched
on
the
thatched
roof,
leaning
over the
edge
and
peering
down
at
him.

"Yes,
it's
him,"
the
Seer
said,
before
Breaker
could
speak. "He
possessed
the
raccoon
a
few
minutes
ago.
I
knew
he would
want
to
be
here."

"You
might
have
mentioned
it
sooner,"
the
Leader
said.

"I
thought
it
was
obvious,"
she
replied.

Before
the
Leader
could
respond
the
latch
rattled,
and
the door
opened.
The
Thief
stood
there,
staring
at
them,
her
cap askew
and
tangled
blond
hair
spilling
out;
she
wore
the
same apron,
though it
had
been
washed
at
least
once,
and
the
dress beneath
it this
time
was
brown.
Behind
her
Breaker
could hear
a
child
crying.