by B. J. Beach
Corlin frowned. “Hold on a minute! I need some time to get my head round this.” He peered into Bardeen’s face. “How come it’s you telling me this and not some palace messenger? Or even Karryl for that matter? After all, he is the royal magician.” He gave a little smirk. “He could have been here in no time, just like you.”
Bardeen nodded in agreement. “This is true, but it’s all down to distribution of labour. For a royal messenger to be here in time, one of us would have to translocate him. However, as I was doing nothing in particular and Karryl has matters to deal with elsewhere, he asked me if I would take on this most pleasurable of tasks.”
Corlin seemed intent on making difficulties. “And exactly how am I supposed to get to Vellethen before the end of the month?”
The magician’s smile said it all. Corlin backed away from him, pushing the air with his hands. “No! I’ve had enough of that vanishing from one place and appearing seconds later in another. It makes me feel sick.”
Bardeen shook his head. “I’m sorry Corlin, but there is no alternative.”
A hint of frustration crept into Corlin’s voice. “What about Megan? I’m pretty sure she’s not too keen on it either.”
Alrick pushed himself away from the wall and gave Corlin’s arm a companionable squeeze. “She can walk on a lead rein to Tregwald with me. I’m sure your brother will be happy to take charge of her.”
Corlin was not happy. “Does that mean I can’t have her in Vellethen?”
His expression regretful, Bardeen shook his head. “I’m afraid not; well, not for a while anyway. Perhaps when your probationary period is over you may be able to move her to the royal stables. I really don’t know.”
With reluctant acceptance, the minstrel nodded. “We may as well get going then.” He gave his two companions a wry smile. “I reckon Molly’s going to be a bit disappointed, the three of us all leaving at once.”
As usual, Megan whickered a greeting as Corlin entered the stable. While Alrick checked and saddled his own bay gelding, Corlin made a big fuss of the gentle grey mare that he might not see again for a long time. Eventually he was forced to admit to himself that he had to get her ready, and moved down the stall towards the saddle-rack. He stopped almost in mid-stride, his eyes wide with amazement. Slung across the rack were his saddlebags, the very same ones Otty had run off with, what seemed like a lifetime ago.
Relieved, and very pleased, he called across to Alrick. “Have you any idea how my saddlebags turned up here?”
The scar-faced soldier called back. “Yes, I brought them with me. They were found while everyone was searching for Otty. Sorry, I forgot to mention it.”
Corlin unfastened the straps and checked inside each bag. Apart from the clock and its frame, items which he tried not to dwell on, nothing seemed to be missing. Even his few remaining silver coins that had once been walnuts still lay in the bottom.
He called back to Alrick. “Everything’s still here; even my money.”
Bardeen’s quiet voice came from behind him. “That’s good, because you’re paying the bill.”
The minstrel threw up his hands. “Well, that’s just terrific.”
After Alrick laughingly assured him that it wasn’t really the case, and Corlin had made some unfavourable remarks about Bardeen’s idea of a joke, the three men made their way back into the inn. Having decided they would tell Molly the true reason why they were leaving so soon, the three crowded into the kitchen.
Alrick dropped a small leather pouch on the table where the landlady was crimping the edges of a pie. “That’s our debt paid, goodwife Brewer. The time has come for us to take our leave.”
Molly’s soft round face crumpled a little as she brushed a wisp of corn-coloured hair away from her plump cheek. “I thought you might be staying a bit longer; at least until after the match.”
Corlin stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. “We have to leave Molly. We have a long way to go, but I have some news for you.”
The landlady sniffed, feigning disinterest. “What’s that then?”
Corlin grinned, because at that moment the import of the whole situation hit home and his spirits began to rise higher than they had for a very long time.
His voice trembled with the sheer pleasure of being able to tell someone. “Molly, I’m to be a minstrel at the palace, in Vellethen! I’m going to play for King Vailin himself!”
As if seeking confirmation that this was not just some childish joke, Molly looked across at Alrick then at Bardeen. Her hands went to her face and then, with a little squeal of delight she threw her plump arms round Corlin and gave him a long and enthusiastic hug.
Her eyes glistening, she stood back, flapped her floury hands and smiled a silly smile at the three men in her kitchen. “Go, get out of my sight before I make a complete fool of myself!”
They all chuckled, and as they headed for the door she called out to the minstrel. “Congratulations, master Corlin Bentfoot!”
She almost danced as the door closed behind them. “Oh my! Just wait ‘til I tell Ned!”
- - - The End - - -
AND NOW
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