Ch: 27.5 A Hollow Staff
When dawn came, somehow sleeping on the floor in a pile of wood shavings was the most restful night he had enjoyed in months. ‘Damn them, damn Annie and Khan!’
The worst was yet to come, he had to eat a heaping helping of crow, give Belen the best horse he had ever ridden and then drag himself back to town. Things could not devolve any further, lest he begin to question his sanity.
A soft plopping sound drifted in and the stable door slid open. Annie stood there, draped in a green silk robe… it drifted and draped fetchingly in the pink, predawn glow. A cool morning breeze cut the humid warmth of the stable, making the cozy bedding even more delightful.
She was wearing slippers on her fucking hooves in the shape of gods damned human heads… with his face on them.
She clomphed through, yes clomphed, now he had an onomatopoeia for horses in people slippers in his mind. This trip needed to end.
She clomphed through and whickered softly before flicking her tail and trotting off near silently, as though being their wake up call were beneath her.
His troop fell in, looking dusty and sleepy, but fit. Even Malus was smiling. That was distressing enough, but things continued to unspool.
Their own horses came trotting out looking like they had been seen to by a priest of the god of Beasts. Their coats were almost shining in the morning light, manes were braided and tails neatly groomed as though for a parade. They frisked and pranced like foals, ready for a day’s exercise.
Annie was holding court like princess of the fucking ponies. She was nuzzling, nibbling and snuffling at the mismatched herd like a drill sergeant reviewing her troops, a very tender and intimate one.
The other troupe was lined up as well, kitted out as though they meant to travel on immediately. They were seated at a long table in the garden enjoying a meal among the horses.
The corpse was absent of course, most likely they dropped it in the sea when it started to bloat. Men don’t survive gut wounds half that disgusting. Even the memory was almost enough to put him off the hot oat and fig porridge they were ladling out.
Gods, they had someone giving the horses a mix of fruit tree leaves, chopped apples and oats, dressed atop a pile of sweet, late summer hay. Who could be so low that they would serve at table for a herd of horses…
Gods cursed Luna, of course, she would be here, following Khan like a stray puppy.
That stray bitch had more fatal duels on her record than any common trooper in a hundred years. If he got back with all his men it would be fortunate.
She moved with that familiar casual grace, if not for her plain features and the hideous face she would be a fine tumble. If one could get past that spear of hers.
Over the last five years that woman had butchered six common troopers and two noble officers over nothing more than a bit of grope and tickle in the bunkhouse.
He could almost smell Stilbend’s fury; she had slaughtered the man’s cousin in a nameless wilderness camp. Poor Hanel wasn’t even trying to plow her, he was just diddling some cook. He should have thought to drag the wretch out of camp at least.
He should have known, that bitch and Khan had been fucking on the sly since their indenture sales. No one ever caught them at it, but a blind dog still knows what an asshole smells like.
If only the food were not so damn good, and he not so well rested it would have been easier to maintain discipline. It was, he hated to admit it, a magical fucking morning.
His crew of hard bitten veterans were dewy eyed and relaxed like virgins at a spring dance.
Malus had a wide smile that seemed genuine and showed every rotten tooth in his head. Levin was desperately trying to chat up the skinny waif, as though he had actual intentions.
Jeng was nattering away with the small spearman in the impressive armor about gardening of all things, was he taking cuttings?
Gods, a man rides out with a perfectly villainous band of common thugs and here they are, chatting like old women at market!
At least Stilbend had that look in his eye, while Bran was a reliable second for any task. He was too simple to question orders and too direct to get clever. So Malus did the work of the second, while Bran did as much violence as the job required.
Sadly this was the wrong band for the wrong job. Never bring blunt instruments for delicate work. Bran and Stilbend were now an anchor around his neck, either could become liability at any moment.
Fortunately, Belen had not roused her noble self yet. He could take charge at least until she deigned to bestirr those regal asscheeks. “Troop, form up.” He snapped, annoyed that his corporal had failed even that simple task. They disengaged from the band of idiots and fell in, eventually.
“With your mounts, you worthless…” He began as they scrambled over to the ridiculous scene playing out in the equine side of the garden.
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That cursed she horse trotted over and stood between his men and their shiny, sassy mounts. She chuffed and stamped, while eyeing them and showing a brace of square white teeth.
“Annie says they are her guests until second bell, they will be ready to go when you are.” The dark skinned bitch said, smiling with utter sincerity.
Fallon beckoned her close charmingly and said, soft and low; “When we return to Port Fallon, I shall see to it that each of these horses is butchered and fed to the pigs.” So that only Becky heard.
“As your lordship wills.” Was all she said, but her face was pinched delightfully. That smile slipped away in a very satisfying manner.
Belen chose that moment to appear, preventing any further fun with this guttersnipe.
“Mistress Trelawny, I would hand over my lord uncle’s gift and begone, will you accept and deliver this horse to Lady Trelawny Belen of Wheatford, with my lord’s good wishes and this missive?” He asked, handing over a scroll.
“You skirt the very edges of propriety and good manners my lord. Yes I will, deliver them, though I cannot say how they will be received.” Trelawny snapped, so coldly he felt a shiver from her gaze.
She accepted the offered scroll with a very minimal bow and turned on her heel.
“These gentlemen would be away mistress Annie, may we please disrupt your garden party?” She asked, with a deeper courtesy to the fucking whorse!
The damned animal whickered and slowly, ever so slowly, all but Winslow ambled over to be saddled and mounted, reluctantly.
It was infuriating, saddling his own mount under the gaze of those wretched urchins... and Belen. As they cantered down the Shore Road he made sure to spur his beast with even more vigor than usual.
The damn thing was as placid as when he first drew it from the stables, it would remember his crop soon enough. It was a long road and they were going to be cold and hungry before they found any peasants to roust for supplies and entertainment.
He could barely wait to get back to town where everything made sense, all neat and orderly. Beasts and peasants should know their places, beneath his boot. As the gods ordained.
They kept up the pace for a good long while, eating up the miles. When they dismounted at midday to paw through the panniers that the waifs had given them, they had made an impressive distance.
“What's in the baskets Malus? Any wine?” He asked hopefully.
“No My Lord, mostly blankets and trail food. Jerky, oats, winter apples.” He called. “A scroll my lord!”
Levin trotted it over, after hobbling the beasts. It was small, in a lovely wooden scroll tube, sealed with undyed beeswax with the sign of a horseshoe and an apple. An unfamiliar device.
The script was neat and compact. A literate commoner or a very very direct noblewoman wrote this missive.
My Lord Brennan Fallon,
It has been a pleasure hosting you in my home and I wish you a splendid journey. As such, to ease your path, we offer these simple comforts and have begged the boon of transport from my good friends.
They have kindly agreed to bear you a half day towards your home, ere’ they return to their rightful duties. Let their kindness in this matter linger foremost in your thoughts as you continue your journey.
Sincerely and with all due respect,
Annie, Princess of Ponies
He carefully rolled the scroll, slipping it back into the elegant wooden tube it was packed in. That was a marvel in itself, formed of several sheets of wood, as thin as good parchment, laminated together. It was inlaid with some iridescent green substance with the apple and hoofprint device from the seal.
Infuriating. This was an insult crafted with care and daring. The kind of thing one would expect from those fools in Port Ellis, That must be it, some plot to humiliate him between Belen and Ellis! Time would tell who…
He looked up from his enraged thoughts as hooves thundered nearby. His horse flew past, in naught but bridle and horseshoes, followed by the rest, running down the Shore Road in a tight group.
The young groom was standing in the meadow holding chewed through hobbles and ropes in mystified wonder. “LEVIN!” He shrieked, his voice breaking unmanfully in his towering, impotent rage.
#
When seven horses came down the road without saddles or riders, cantering in perfect formation, most of the bathers were startled. When they trotted up, heads held high to keep from stepping on unattended reins, Becky, Gary and Luna were smiling widely and giggling.
#
It was worth the late start to pick up some new friends, and Annie liked having a herd along. Besides, loose horses were to be taken to the nearest temple of their brand… in this case War, and that meant Port Ellis.
Annie liked Port Ellis too, it was no Wheatford, but they kept a nice stable, and they had the sweetest hay. Wheatford had the water though, wheat was not her favorite, but they had alfalfa too. Maybe Khan could have some timothy planted.
#
The more ‘normal’ orphans all had at least some equestrian training, Liam had excelled and was a splendid rider. Dannyl and Ivy had at least competence with horses.
Shai had suffered through some of War’s equestrian lessons as well, though she preferred her own feet or a cart.
Tallum had never ridden anything but sandals and it showed, only Annie was large enough and competent enough to manage an unskilled rider of that size. The man knew horses, but only from the knees down.
Becky and Gary were both special cases of course. Any of the animals would cheerfully do anything she asked without question.
Gary had their full attention wherever he went, but they would not listen to anything he had to say, simply nudging and nuzzling him along like a herd of giant childminders. Pushing him into the arms of the nearest human when he strayed.
While Shai and Gary rode the dog cart, the others rode Annie’s friends bareback, laughing and chatting merrily as magic and music turned miles into smiles.
Shai was definitely a road trip girl. Every new vista was a joy and every new delight that lit her face was a balm to his jostled insides..
That afternoon, on a grassy meadow by the seaside they set up housekeeping and the mobile Bathers set out to cut some meadow grass for their new friends.
Tallum stood with a long knife in his hand and a bundle of wild grasses under a gigantic arm. “I’m making us some scythes for this job. Grass is too close to the ground!” He said, gripping his left side, low down.
“An ye keep up yer training twill… urk.” Shai stooped, gripping her left love handle as well. “Aye, tis nae a task for folks fully grown.”
“I told you, all that hammering is going to unbalance you, gotta use your off hand at least twenty five percent of the time to maintain symmetry.” Liam chided, as he scampered by with another load of grasses for the cart.
“If you can’t cut hay, take a hatchet and gather some beech boughs, they eat those too. Oh and comfrey! And sorrel! Do you see any clover?” Becky called to the ax wielding giant as he strode to the stand of beeches still bearing some bright red and gold leaves.
#
Tawny was not best pleased.
“I know you came up with this crackbrained scheme with Becky. She is a child so I can’t blame her…” She stamped her tiny golden foot at the floating needlepoint sampler that was Gary.
He chuckled and winced as his multitude of inflamed sutures tightened and pinched.
“Serves you right, you helped her with that whole thing. The second wall in the garden, all the horse slippers and robes. Don’t think I did not notice Annie’s.” She griped, while grinning widely.
“There was a letter, I made a copy, for funzies.” He whispered, clearly proud of his obstinate ways.
The scroll tube of delicate flame maple veneer with the hoof and apple sigil was impressive work.
Wax seal carvers were a touchy bunch, considering themselves the equal of jewelers in many cases. This seal was very clean and elegant, not some slapdash prop. The wax smelt of honey and summer lavender, subtle touches that many would miss.
The scroll inside was brutal. If the goal was to politely snub, insult and denigrate a man like Fallon, this was not far off the mark. The care and attention crafted into this insult would not be missed, nor forgotten.
“You have made an enemy of that knight Gary, he may be a baron some day.” Tawny said.
“Good friends are heirlooms, we hand them down to our children. A good enemy is a true treasure… they should be buried in secret and never spoken of again.” He said smugly.
“I think I stole that from someone famous, but they were probably famous on another world…” He shrugged.
“Gary, be very careful in Port Ellis, you may find you fit in too well.”