Finn nodded. She supposed it was good that there were so many outsiders in the burgh. Travelers would not be a rare sight, and they would likely not be bothered much along their way. She lost herself in thought, picturing where they might end up next. Because of this, she did not notice as the red haired man rose from his table and came to sit on the opposite side of Àed, until it was too late to flee.
The old man turned to the younger one with an expectant sigh, and a less than friendly look on his aged face.
The red haired man did not seem put off in the least. In fact, his face was lit up with excitement. “Forgive me the intrusion,” he began, speaking mainly to Àed, though he did spare a nod in Finn's direction. “My name is Anders Cattenach. I'm a historian of sorts, and I just realized how I know your face.”
“I ain't nobody to take notice of,” Àed grumbled, waving him off.
“Oh but you are,” the man persisted, his honey-brown eyes staring intently. “You're Àed Deasmhumhain. Àed the Mountebank.”
Àed kept his eyes on the table. “I've no idea what yer talkin about.”
Not daunted in the least, the red-haired man went on. “Where have you been all of these years? Most have believed you dead.”
“I am no mountebank!” Àed growled, drawing attention from their fellow diners. He turned away from Anders, dismissing him.
“I meant no offense,” Anders said hurriedly, though he was speaking to Àed's back. “I only wanted to speak with you, to have a unique viewpoint into the more recent histories. I'm sure you have a great deal of knowledge to share.”
Àed grunted again, then slowly turned back to glare at Anders. “And what do ye be offerin in return, lad?” he asked almost menacingly.
Anders grew excited once more. “If you would travel with us, at least for a short way, we would provide you with horses, food, rooms. Anything you need along the way. We have a swordsman traveling with us, so we can offer you a measure of protection as well.”
“Where ye traveling?” Àed asked unenthusiastically.
“This morning we are journeying toward Felgram,” Anders explained hurriedly. “We plan to make the course in less than two days. Then we make for Migris, stopping in the burghs bordering the Sand Road along the way.”
Àed considered for a moment. “That'll do, lad. At least for a time.”
Anders nodded excitedly and stood. “I shall make the preparations, and of course, your breakfast shall be accounted for as well.”
Àed paid no attention as Anders left the table to speak to the innkeep. Instead he waved down a barmaid, a younger girl this time. There were actually several barmaids that morning, carrying around large plates of eggs, bannocks, and smoked meats.
“Why would we agree to go with them?” Finn whispered harshly as soon as the woman had taken their orders and retreated.
“Got us horses, didn't I?” Àed pointed out. “And rations and a bit of security. Road thieves will be much less likely to bother us if we're with that lot, and we can make it to Felgram in two days instead of four.”
Finn shook her head in disbelief. “But we will be traveling with that man, a thief!” she replied hotly. “He was skulking around outside last night, our aim is not to travel to this . . . this Migris. Our aim, is, well, my aim.”
“And ye know where ye need to go lass?” At Finn's stunned expression, he went on, “I've someone that might be able to help ye, and that someone is on the road to Migris. Also ye cannae throw stones about skulking, as ye were doin the same.”
Finn opened her mouth to say more, then snapped it shut. The barmaid came back with two heaping plates of food, and two mugs of hot tea.
Finn sucked her teeth in annoyance. “What was that he called you?” she prodded. “The Mountebank?”
Àed took a deep swig of his tea, despite how hot it was. “Young ones tell silly stories,” he mumbled. “Ain't a single truth teller among them.”
Finn smiled, pleased to have finally gotten a rise out of the old man. “What did you do?” she asked smugly.
Àed slammed his mug down suddenly, sloshing liquid onto the tabletop. “I did nothin!”
Nearby gazes turned their way again, and Àed looked down at the table in embarrassment. He took a deep breath, then continued more quietly, “It's a past havin to do with me daughter, and I won't be talkin about it.”
“But you agreed to talk about it with that man. That's the only reason he's paying for our travels . . . ” she began softly.
“I won't be talkin about that with anyone,” Àed confirmed. “I'll tell the lad a few stories, most of which will be false, and we'll travel well because of it.”
Finn's mood sobered instantly. Unsure of what else to say, she began eating her food. The meat was a little salty for her taste, but the eggs were wonderful. She actually began to enjoy herself as she ate, until she accidentally glanced at the table where their new traveling companions sat. None looked her way, but she had the feeling that they had only just turned away as she looked at them. Finn turned back to her food with a sour feeling in her stomach, and could not eat another bite.
Chapter Six
Finn was not sure that her horse could be called a horse, but she liked her anyhow. The gray beast had large mule ears, and a shaggy-haired face and body. Aed's was similar, but slightly shorter and muddy brown in color.
Anders had apologized profusely for the state of the horses, apparently none better could be found in Garenoch. He even went to the extent of offering his own steed in place of her gray mare, but Finn felt it unnecessary.
The more pressing problem that Finn found, was that her skirts were not well suited for riding. There was at least enough fabric that even if it hiked up, it would billow to cover a good portion of her legs, though it would have left her ankles and calves bare if it weren't for her tall boots. Yet that wasn't the problem. The problem was found in getting up on the horse. Finn had to hike her skirts far above her knees in order to hoist one leg up in the stirrup, and the other over the saddle. Àed had warned her that showing extra skin was abnormal, but there simply was no other way to climb into the saddle. When leaving Garenoch, she'd turned the horse away from the group as much as possible, but townsfolk in the street had watched her and laughed as she fumbled her way up. The other women of the company had skirts divided for riding, and she eyed them with envy as they rode along.
After leaving Garenoch, the party plodded slowly down the dirt road in silence for several hours. In the fore, were those who Finn had learned were the emissary and her escort. They were followed by Finn and Àed, who were followed by Anders and his sister, Branwen. The two in the lead were slowly gaining more and more distance, due to Finn and Àed's slower mounts. Iseult rode ahead more often than not, but sometimes dropped back to the rear. The man had not spoken a single word to her since they'd departed, not even as they passed the spectacle of the stableman, strung up by his bootstrings from the eave of the inn. It seemed a proper place for him, swaying by the sheep sign, face bright red from being in an inverted state. It had made Finn smile, though she hid it quickly.
The road to Felgram was rocky, with deep green grasses scattered about despite the cold. The trees were shorter than they were in Finn's glen, and twisted sideways instead of up, as if the sky crushed them down. She didn't like the strange, twisted trees, but they were better than none, she supposed.
Branwen sped her horse up to ride beside Finn, forcing Àed to fall back next to Anders if he wanted to keep his horse on the path. “It's lovely having you along for our journey,” Branwen commented cheerfully as the men fell back behind them.
Finn nodded, not sure what to say. The girl seemed very young to be a scholar. Her cheeks were flushed with the chilly morning air, and her red hair fluttered about freely in the wind like wisps of flame.
“I mean,” Branwen went on as she leaned in to speak more quietly, “it's nice to have another woman along.”
Finn leaned in as well and nodded in the direction of L
iaden. “It would seem you already had another woman along.”
“Well yes,” Branwen chuckled, “but she's not a very friendly sort. Hardly says a word to us common folk. I'm left with just the company of my brother and our hired sword, and Kai's wandering eyes as well,” she laughed again. “At least with a swordsman along, we don't have to be afraid of bandits.”
“Yes,” Finn replied distantly, “but aren't you afraid of the swordsman?”
Branwen only smiled. “Heaven's no. He comes highly recommended.”
“I'm sure he does,” Finn mumbled disconcertedly.
Branwen had to continually tug on her mount's reins to keep the horse at pace with Finn's mule-creature, but she stubbornly refused to leave Finn's side. “He never speaks though, our swordsman I mean,” Branwen continued. “I've heard roughly five sentences out of him the entire time we've traveled together.”
“He spoke fine last night,” Finn mumbled.
“What was that?” Branwen questioned, as she had not heard Finn over the wind.
“And how long have you traveled together?” Finn asked loudly.
Finn's face was growing numb with the cold wind that threatened to pull her hair out of its braid. She tugged the hood of her green cloak up to cover her ears, but the wind pulled it right back down again, leaving her face and neck bare to the chilly air. Branwen seemed unaffected, and left her burgundy cloak flapping open around her. Why anyone would choose to travel when the air was still icy was beyond Finn's comprehension. Of course, she had chosen it, but she had good reason.
“He hired on with us in the Gray City,” Branwen explained. “Many of the sellswords wait there for work. They do in all of the cities, really. Anyhow,” she paused, deciding what to say, “you have a very interesting travel companion.”
Finn laughed, but Branwen looked at her like she did not get the joke.
“He's not terribly interesting at all,” Finn explained. “Just a grouchy old man with a good heart, who cares a little bit too much about clean feet and fast travels.”
“But he's Àed the Mountebank,” Branwen replied excitedly. “He must be around one hundred years old by now, maybe more. I don't know how he still gets around as well as he does-”
“Why do they call him that?” Finn interrupted. “The Mountebank?”
“Well,” Branwen explained, her face taking on a studious look, “it is fabled that the Mountebank once possessed great powers. He was a conjurer, to put it quite plainly. He helped people, sure, but he also swindled them. He became well known as a trickster of sorts, talking good folk into deals that they didn't understand. He would take them for what they were worth, then point out in the end what they had actually agreed to.
“Of course, as in any good story, he eventually fell in love. The woman's name was Mira, a merchant's daughter by all accounts. Love changed the Mountebank, and he spent many years trying to live up to his wife's view of him. Eventually the wife found that she was with child, only she died in child birth. I'm sorry,” Branwen smiled self deprecatingly. “I'm quite terrible at storytelling.”
“Your storytelling is fine,” Finn comforted. “Please continue.”
Branwen nodded to herself. “Well, his wife died, and the Mountebank was left with a little girl to raise all on his own. The little girl's name was Keiren. As Keiren grew, the Mountebank tried to do well by his wife's memory, raising her to treat people with kindness. Then came the eve of Keiren's sixteenth birthday, and with that birthday came powers of her very own. Though he tried to influence her away from wrong-doing, Keiren used her power much in the way the Mountebank had. He tried to stop her, to control her in some way, but she had turned out just as powerful as he. In the end she crippled him, not physically, but magically. He had threatened her, but couldn't carry through. She was his daughter after all. She wasn't quite so sentimental.”
Finn nodded, but was too deep in thought to reply further.
“I take it you didn't know any of that?” Branwen asked.
“Not quite,” Finn said sadly. “What happened to Keiren?”
Branwen shrugged. “Some say she still lives, only under a different name. Some say she rules over some distant land. Others say she died alone. No one truly knows.”
So that explained the old man's sadness, Finn thought to herself. She felt more sorry than before for having pushed him. She also realized he likely aided her to the extent he did, in order to somehow make up for not being able to aid his own daughter.
“And you're paying our way,” Finn began, “just to have more of a chance to speak with him?”
Branwen nodded. “It's not a great expense, and when so much can be learned! Why, I could write an entire book about it. He's been missing for a good fifty years. No one has seen him. Well, there have been claims of course, but I'd wager the lot of them have little foundation in truth. How did you come to travel with him?”
It took Finn a moment to realize that Branwen had asked her a question during her deluge of words. She wished she hadn't heard it at all. She had not planned on conversing with many strangers, and therefore had not created a backstory for herself.
“Well,” Finn began, frantically trying to think of a lie. Her horse snuffled as if aware of her unease. “I lived in the same glen as Àed.”
“In a glen?” Branwen interrupted. “Did many people live there?”
“No,” Finn explained, as a story formed in her mind, “but it was not far from Garenoch. Many people traveled that way to hunt, and there were farms not far off.”
Finn's tension eased as Branwen nodded in understanding. “I'm trying to find my extended family,” Finn continued more confidently. “I was planning a journey and Àed, knowing I had not seen much of the world on my own, offered to accompany me. It's not much of a story, really.”
Branwen looked thoughtful. “So, he's just been living in a house in a glen all of this time?”
Finn shrugged. “I cannot account for the past fifty years,” she replied, though really she could, “but he's lived there all of my lifetime.”
Branwen nodded again, then looked to the front of their line. “It looks like we're stopping to eat.”
Finn looked ahead of where they rode to find the emissary and her companion already dismounted. The companion was doing his best to build a fire in spite of the wind, while the emissary filled a small iron kettle with tea. Finn's stomach growled at the thought of tea, and perhaps some food as well. They'd only been traveling three hours or so, but they were a rough three hours given the cold and wind. She was more than ready for a break.
Finn and Branwen reached the others and dismounted, followed by the rest of their group. Àed had a sour expression on his face as he sat down next to Finn. It was clear that he had not enjoyed riding next to Anders. Finn was ready to give him a glare for being ungrateful, then realized she was probably wearing the same expression. She was not used to having to lie, and she found that she did not enjoy it at all.
Branwen took up a seat right next to Finn, but Anders sat next to his sister instead of on the other side of Àed. Finn imagined the old man had likely given the younger man quite a tongue lashing to have Anders acting so cowed. The emissary, Liaden, and her companion Kai were positioned across from Finn's group, while Iseult sat off to one side, clearly preferring to be apart from the gathering.
Anders opened a knapsack he had retrieved from one of the horses and began carving off hunks from a hard loaf of bread. He passed the pieces around, followed by thick slices of dry, salty cheese. When the tea was hot, Liaden poured each of them a cup. It was clear to Finn that this was the normal routine of the company, for no one spoke as the food was passed from hand to hand in an organized manner. Anders looked quite pleased as Finn and Àed took their mugs in hand, likely proud that he'd had the foresight to have extra mugs available.
As they ate, Kai eyed Finn like he wasn't quite sure what she was. The men all had obvious staring issues, Finn thought. She wondered if it was perhaps not as rude as
she believed, since they all did it so blatantly. She also wondered how she knew such a thing could be rude to begin with. She must have heard it from a hunter, or one of the girls that sometimes picnicked in her glen.
Finn aimed her dark eyes right back at the man. “Is there something you would like to ask?” she said, finally breaking the silence.
Everyone stopped eating to regard her, and Kai's face cracked into a wide smile as his dark brown hair flopped about in the wind. “You are rather brazen, aren't you?” he asked mirthfully.
Finn glared and pushed at strands of her own hair as it escaped her braid to tickle her face. “Brazen would be eyeing you in return. As it is, I am simply drawing attention to the fact that you were eyeing me to begin with.”
“Where do you hail from again?” he asked, ignoring her statement.
“Leave the poor girl alone,” Branwen chided. “She has no need for your lascivious glances and absurd word games.”
Kai chuckled and turned his attention to Branwen. “Would you rather I focused them on you?”
Finn leaned closer to Àed, who was looking increasingly irritated. “Regretting the company yet?” she whispered.
Àed grunted in reply. Finn looked past the old man to see Iseult contemplating her with a raised eyebrow, and she raised one back at him in return. He turned his attention back to his cup of tea, chuckling to himself.
“It's a good question,” Liaden began, speaking over the argument that had begun between Kai and Branwen. “It has been explained to me who the old man is, but if we are to travel together, I would know where the girl is from as well.”
Liaden did not appear to be much older than Finn's physical form, but she said girl as if she were referring to someone much younger, and of course, far less mature than herself.
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