He nodded. Suddenly he felt as if he had a lot more in common with Lita than he’d had before. They were both working at an age when people like Amily, Bear, and Lena were still allowed to be children.
“Don’t get me wrong, I loved every moment of it,” Lita continued, and chirruped to the horses, who cocked their ears back at her. “I drove a vanner just like these fellows. They’re a breed apart, I can tell you. Smart, steady, calm, and gentle. Willing, oh, you’ll not find a horse as willing as a vanner. We used to play among their feet and never a care that we might get stepped on. That’s one reason why I stepped in when I got wind of this. I went down to the Horse Market, called on my old friends, and looked over a good many pairs before I picked these two. I knew you’d need the right horses, and I knew you’d need someone who’d done more in the way of driving than take the reins on a pair now and again.”
“Well, I’m mortal glad you did,” Mags told her sincerely. “I dunno nothin’ about horses. I reckon I’d’ve had to ask Dallen.”
“Given that your lads can actually talk to horses, you might’ve been all right,” Lita replied, but she sounded dubious. “Still, things can go wrong in the time it takes to blink, and plenty of trouble can happen between a horse spooking and Dallen or Jermayan noticing. Still, I wouldn’t trust anything between the shafts of a caravan but a vanner. I won’t say that vanners won’t spook, but they trust their drover more than most horses, and if the drover stays calm, they settle pretty quickly.”
“Do you—would you teach me to drive?” Mags asked hesitantly. If Lita would—well, it seemed like a valuable skill to have. Did they make smaller caravans? They must; single traders wouldn’t need this much room, and a trader would make a good disguise. Too bad that Companions wouldn’t take dye . . .
:Don’t you dare even try.:
“I intend to,” Lita assured him. “I intend to teach all of you to drive. Even the All-Alone-Herald up there, if he can climb down out of his self-imposed isolation long enough.”
She said it with an ironic twist of her lips, but Mags caught the underlying bitterness. He deemed it prudent to pretend he hadn’t noticed.
“Vanners are all-arounds, and these two have been trained for riding as well,” she continued. “We’ll probably not be able to move the caravan until the snow melts once it sets in, so the Three Inseparables in there will have to ride out to the villages. That’s not a problem, you saw the muscles on these lads. They could carry two riders and four packs and not strain themselves.” She chuckled. “I’ll bet Bear and Lena and Amily are walking stiff and sore for a while, though, once they start riding. Striding a vanner is like trying to get your legs around a small house.”
Mags laughed, because he had noticed how broad a barrel these horses had. He didn’t envy his three friends one bit. Even he, who rode constantly, would have a little trouble adjusting to a horse that large.
“It feels good to get the reins in my hands again,” Lita mused. “You know, Mags, I think I was getting stale and bad-tempered, cooped up in the Collegium, spending all day solving everybody’s damned problems. I never got to teach anymore. I didn’t get to write or perform nearly as much as I wanted. If Purchell does well in my absence, I think I may just step down and go out on the road again for a while, at least while I’m still fit enough to do it. Or I will if I get to steal this caravan to do it.”
Mags had to laugh at that, because as cramped for six as the caravan was, it would be quite luxurious for a single person. “Not asking much, are you?”
Lita straightened up and struck a pose. “I’m a Master Bard, head of Bardic Circle, and Dean of the Collegium. If I don’t deserve it, who does?”
Mags had to admit, she had him there.
“And think how jolly this rig would look painted all in Bardic Scarlet! Pick out those vines and flowers in black and gold . . . she’d be a treat. I think, regardless, I’m going to see about keeping these boys for myself.” She grinned. “I just might commission myself a new caravan if I can’t have this one.”
He wondered what the other three were doing inside that rolling cottage. He was pretty sure he knew what Bear and Lena would have liked to get up to, but Amily’s presence would put a damper on that.
Amily was probably reading. Lena was probably practicing—the notes of a softly plucked gittern couldn’t be heard outside those stout walls. Bear? Either making notes, or maybe sorting out herbs into his kits. He had one full cupboard devoted to just the herbs for his kits in there, but he had explained that it was better, so far as taking up space was concerned, for him to store them in bulk and make up the kits as he went along.
Last night, the wind had blown most of the leaves down off the trees, and the sky had gone overcast. The wind had died down, but it was almost as cold as it had been last night, with the leaf scent gone bitter, and the air feeling even colder with the damp in it. There was the least little hint of fog, less fog and more a chilly haze in the distance and blurring the tops of the trees. The entire world was painted in shades of brown and gray now; autumn was nearly over, and winter right at hand.
Mags was glad that Lita had given in to staying at the inns Jakyr planned to choose. I’ve gotten soft since I got to the Collegium, he thought wryly. Beds, regular hot meals . . . hard to do without ’em when you got used to having ’em.
He wondered just how well the Guard had stocked The Bastion—and just what the purported caves looked like. If they were just shallow indentations, enough to shelter supplies but not much more, it was going to be a very cramped and crowded winter, unless they could come up with some auxiliary shelter.
He and Dallen mulled that over as they trotted alongside the caravan. Lita seemed perfectly content just to drive, humming to herself under her breath. Jakyr dropped back a little, riding just in front of the horses, but he didn’t seem inclined to conversation. That left Mags and his Companion free to consider options.
:It might just be best to make a second bedroom under the caravan. We could wall it all around, give it a floor. Use the canvas to cut the wind, back it with firewood or pack straw in between canvas and, say, some laths. Then Bear and Lena would have some privacy and you’d have privacy from them.:
Mags thought that over. :Might could do the same sorta thing with a wall for one of them indentation caves. If we did that, could put a fire in there, wouldn’t be so cold.:
Neither option seemed particularly comfortable however. He went over what he remembered from the reports. Surely the brief descriptions had suggested real caves. . . .
:That’s how I remember it,: Dallen agreed.
With real caves they could have real comfort. Real beds, even; easy enough to make a fine bed with a little wood, a lot of hay, and some canvas. Why, if the cave entrance was big enough, they could move the caravan inside, and whoever was lucky could sleep in it!
:What’m I thinking? Bear and Lena’ll get it, sure as sure.:
As the morning turned to noon, the terrain on either side of the river turned hillier. Mags didn’t envy the farmers who had to plow their fields here. Though most of the land seemed to be given up to orchards and grazing, there were still fields that had been cultivated, the plowing following the contours of the hills, giving them a slightly terraced look. He spotted more than one farmer out covering the fields with old straw or beanstalks or even leaves.
:That’s to hold the soil on the side of the hill over the winter,: Dallen told him. It seemed a sensible precaution. :In the spring, all that will be plowed under. You won’t find anyone burning leaves or straw out here; no one wastes anything.:
Lots of sheep here, which moved slowly away from the strangers on the road in an uneasy, woolen cloud, as their guardian dogs kept a wary eye out.
By contrast, the cattle paid no attention to them at all, and the few horses—ponies, really—that were out in the fields came up to the fences to stare. Some whickered at the vanners, who replied but didn’t stop moving.
:This is where some of your Ki
rball ponies are from,: Dallen told him. Well, he could see how they would have to be sure-footed on this terrain.
Around noon or a little after, Mags spotted a thin stream of smoke rising from somewhere near the road ahead. Since Dallen had made a point of saying that no one burned leaves or brush here, or fired their fields before winter to burn off the stubble, he guessed it must be an inn.
And so it was.
They didn’t stop for long—just long enough for all of them to go into the kitchen for a quick washup in hot water, drink down some excellent soup and mulled ale, and take away some packets of roasted vegetables in crust. Not quite a pocket pie, but not unlike one either. When they got back on the road, Lita had Bear sit beside her for a driving lesson. From the way he was handling the reins, with confidence instead of hesitation, Mags guessed it wasn’t his first.
The afternoon was much the same; gradually the hills got steeper, but they never left the river road. When they saw people in the fields or at farmsteads in the distance, no one seemed at all curious about the strangers. Not even children came down to the road to see who it was.
Mags was beginning to get a sense of why this district was considered a challenge. Only at infrequent public houses and small inns did anyone show any curiosity about them, and even then, it was just to stare at them. None of the waving and calling out of greetings he had seen coming back from the Karsite border or on the first leg of their trip.
The sun was just setting when another plume of smoke heralded another inn, and this was, indeed, the one at which Jakyr intended to stop.
Mags couldn’t tell any difference in this one from any of the others they had passed; it was built of rough-hewn timbers, a single low, broad building all on one level, with a stable around the back. But there was a very great difference once they had pulled into the stable yard. A stable boy appeared immediately to help Lita position the caravan and unharness the vanners, and he pointed out two open, capacious loose boxes to Mags and Jakyr.
“Help yourselves, Heralds. I’ll be along with water and fodder shortly.” He grinned, showing a gap between his front teeth. “There’s only me, but I’ll get to it.”
Well! At least that was friendlier than the folk they had seen so far on this road!
Amily, Bear, and Lena came down out of the caravan as soon as the steps were down, each carrying two packs. Lita took one from Lena and led the way into the inn itself while Mags and Jakyr tended to Dallen and Jermayan.
By the time that they got inside, Lita had everything sorted out. “Steam bath that way,” she said, pointing to the right. “Rooms, follow me. This is mostly the local pub, and the rooms are usually used more in spring and summer, for traveling traders and entertainers. There’s not a lot of call for them this late in the year, so since no one else is likely to turn up, we got all three. Dinner’s when we’re done with the bath, locals will be turning up after, Lena and I are singing.”
Since there seemed nothing else to say, they followed Lita. Inside, the building was built to stand for a good long time, it seemed. The floors were the same rough-hewn wood as the walls but worn smooth by the passage of many feet. The ceilings were low, and the roof had scarcely any slant at all; in that, it was much like Cole Pieters’ house, where a servant was sent up to shovel snow off the roof as soon as it fell, to prevent it building up and causing leaks. Mags hadn’t noticed, but he guessed that the roof itself was slate or wooden shingles. The walls had been plastered white, but time and smoke had turned them a deep cream. There was a very pleasant smoky scent in the air as well.
Lita took them to a plank door in the side of the common room with an iron latch and iron hinges. The rooms were all in a row, with doors leading from one to the next, rather than being on a corridor.
That made sense; if you were at all uneasy about your guests leaving without paying their due, this was the best way to keep them from doing so.
The rooms were all alike, the white-plastered walls a lighter shade of cream than the common room, barely big enough to hold a bed that could sleep as many as six and a small table with a rushlight on it. And each bed probably did sleep that many when the inn was crowded; few people coming along this road could afford a room to themselves. Whole families shared a bed, and even strangers would bed down together to share the expense.
Bear and Lena took the end room, Lita decreed that she and Amily would have the middle, and Mags and Jakyr the one that let out on the common room. Jakyr gave Mags a commiserating pat on the back but said nothing. Mags sighed, but he didn’t object, in no small part because he could not imagine Jakyr and Lita actually sharing a bed without being able to somehow erect a wall between them. And even then . . . no.
“You’ll like the steam bath,” was all Jakyr said, and he led the way to it.
There were two steam baths actually. Jakyr took the first. The steam bath was exactly what it sounded like: a room filled with hot steam, with an unheated entrance room with a barrel in it and a drain in the floor. You stripped down and went and sat on wooden seats in the main room until you couldn’t stand the heat anymore. Then you left and washed down with cold water from a barrel, then you went back in again for another round. You did this as many times as you liked—Mags only managed twice, Bear called a halt at one, but Jakyr stayed for three—then you washed off a final time, got dressed, and went back out to the common room, feeling rather like a pleasant puddle of yourself. Lita and the girls presumably took the second room, since there was no sign of them until Mags went out to the common room again.
When they were all sitting at a table in the common room, the innkeeper brought them supper: bread, a smoky barley and vegetable soup, baked leeks, and smoked meat of some sort. Mags couldn’t tell what animal it came from, only that it was so tender it fell apart, and the smoky flavor was delicious. Now he knew where the scent in the air came from; it appeared almost everything that was cooked here got at least a taste of the woodsmoke, and it was delicious. He had to wonder what their bacon was like.
There was hot cider to drink—no spices, but there was a roasted crabapple floating in each mug that had been cooked in honey.
As they were finishing their dinner, the locals started to arrive. It appeared that everyone who ordered food got the same thing that their group did, though there weren’t many of them. Mags immediately grasped the significance of the menu—smoked meat kept a good long time, and soup—well, you just kept adding to it, because as long as you kept it hot, it stayed wholesome. Nothing would be wasted, even if you got fewer customers than you had expected.
Most of the locals ordered beer or cider and roasted nuts. They settled down in groups and talked among themselves, only surreptitiously glancing at the strangers in their midst. Lita and Jakyr similarly paid them no heed, so Mags followed their example.
:It isn’t always like this. In fact, it isn’t mostly like this,: Dallen told him. :Usually people come up, want to know the latest news, share what’s going on locally. Even if you aren’t there on Circuit, Heralds are looked to as people who can solve problems. Evidently Jakyr was briefed on this, even though we weren’t. I can see how this sort of attitude would give a Herald some difficulty in doing his job.:
Mags considered the people around him. :Well, these folks keep to themselves right close, I reckon. Seems like they make a virtue out of it, which ’splains why Cole Pieters could get away with what he did. Nobody was gonna get in his business unless he invited them to, and damn sure he wasn’t gonna invite ’em.:
:That makes sense,: Dallen agreed, and then Lita caught Lena’s eye, and nodded to her. The two of them went to the rooms and came back with a small assortment of instruments: two gitterns, a flute, a hand drum, a small harp, and a fiddle. The two of them moved to stools on the hearth. Lita picked up the fiddle, Lena the drum, and they began.
The locals might have been insular, but they weren’t deaf. Conversation ceased. Table tapping began.
Here Lita showed the skill and the Gift that made her a
Master Bard. Within moments, the locals had accepted her as if she was one of their own. It was without a doubt that she was the best musician they had ever heard in their lives, and Mags was certain they would be talking of this evening for years.
She chose well. Even if people didn’t know these exact melodies, they knew something like them.
A few lively tunes on the fiddle came first, then she and Lena switched to double gitterns, singing and playing in two-part harmony that had people listening with their mouths dropping open.
Lita played the crowd like she played her instruments. At her direction they laughed and wept, listened intently or sang along, clapped and stomped their feet or held their collective breaths. It was in every sense a masterful performance, and they knew it—instinctively if not consciously.
Mags mostly watched Lena, who in turn was so riveted by her mentor that he suspected nothing else in the room registered with her. This was, he thought, entirely as it should be. This was not just a lesson, but an object lesson. Lita was demonstrating every possible thing that Lena must conquer in order to be called a Master Bard, and Lena knew it.
Mags halfway expected Jakyr to return to their rooms long before the performance was over—after all, he had surely seen or heard performances like this many times before, and he was not on what you would call good terms with Bard Lita at the best of times. But he stayed, listening and watching just as intently as any of the locals, but with a completely unreadable expression on his face. Mags wondered what he was thinking, but knew he would never dare to ask.
Finally there came a pause in the music. “This will be the last song, and we thank you for your kindly listening,” said Lita, and began at once before there could be any objections voiced.
“Of all the money that e’er I had,
I spent it in good company.
And all the harm that e’er I’ve done,
Alas, it was to none but me
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