Simon felt a bit lightheaded from the surge of emotion rushing to his brain. He had been about to verbally rush to her side when Mr. Dashing slammed his hand down on the table, causing the cutlery to rattle.
“Well, there we have it then! No need for a great deal of apologies, Miss. We’ve all fathomed there could be dangers here and there. If anyone wishes to be released from our little undertaking, they may do so here and now.” Dick let his eyes scan the faces of the two young men before him, noticeably excluding Fae and her plate of fried bacon.
“Yes, but Mr. Todd, I told you all this after everything occurred,” Miss Baxter confessed.
Simon waved his hand at her, his eyes earnest. “I’m really, very fine.” He didn’t have much fondness for Mr. Dashing, but Simon agreed the man’s reasoning was sound. “Oddly enough, I think I was only dazed. Perhaps my aim was off when I foolishly hurdled myself in front of the blast. I know now, however,” he continued, looking down at his jacket to straighten his lapels, “that you can certainly hold your own in a mage duel. No need for stylish, old fops.” Simon smiled up at her. The time for feeling foolish was over, especially when there was a need to repair a young girl’s feelings.
Miss Baxter smiled and seemed genuinely grateful.
“Well, good then!” Jane had been worried when there was talk of leaving. It would be much harder to gobble them all up when they were separated. “Let’s finish breakfast and be off.”
“Sounds good! Where are we off to next?” Fae grinned as she stuffed another crisp rasher into her mouth.
Simon sneered. “You’re not going.”
“Why not?” Since she was sitting next to him, it was very easy to lean over to holler in his ear.
“You’re not invited. Besides, your father wouldn’t approve.”
Fae sat back and laughed. “Me father would approve a horse for me husband if it shart gold. I know ‘im more ‘an you.”
Simon closed his eyes, picking up his cup of tea to give him reason to stop the conversation.
“’Sides, you’re just the equerry. I don’t need to ask you anyway.” Fae sat back, leg propped up over the chair leg as Simon silently fumed. “So, what do you say, Dashing? Let me come and I’ll have me dad pay for your horses.”
Dick stroked the ends of his moustache. “A share of dragon gold’s a lot more than a few horses from Piper’s Toss.” He laughed, picking from her bowl of eggs.
“Dragon’s gold?” Her grin devoured her face. “Well since I already know, you gotta take me. What if I accidently tell someone else? They come lookin’ fer ya and take it for themselves.”
Simon gave her a furious look.
Dick cackled. “I hope you do! Haven’t been able to get in a whole lot of target practice!” He tapped the pistols attached to his hip, gesturing with his chin to the blunderbuss against his chair.
Fae huffed, sitting back with her arms crossed. Though angry at her assertion, Simon was fairly certain Fae wouldn’t tell anyone out of spite, but he was slightly worried that she’d follow along anyway.
“We are in Piper’s Toss,” Miss Baxter said, drawing her cup of tea from her lips. “You could just roll a dice.”
Mr. Dashing rolled his head back. “Miss Baxter, shame on you for encouraging her.” He said. The young necromancer giggled.
Fae’s eyes lit up like two lightning bugs at twilight. “That’s a great idea! I’ve a dice right here.” And like magic, from out a small pocket in her gentleman’s suit vest, Miss Hershal produced two ivory dice before anyone could blink twice.
Simon sighed, rolling his eyes. “Check to make sure they’re not loaded,” he said, which spawned a rather dour look from the young lady.
“Not sure what your aim is,” Dashing continued to the chuckling shepherdess, picking up the dice in good humour.
Again, Miss Baxter took a drink of her tea, relishing the taste. “Well, she did help Mr. Todd, and I just thought the more the merrier.”
Chapter 10
Puer Mr. Todd Rides An Ass
“Why must I be the one to ride the ass?” Simon Todd was rather disgruntled as the party was packing up to leave Piper’s Toss. The brothels and dice bars were far enough behind them to warrant anyone saying they hadn’t departed the town for good. Gerald’s farm was just teetering on the threshold of the city limits.
“You lost the bet, you ride Salvador.”
Dashing pulled at the brim of his hat, the quills of the peacock feather tucked within and waving slightly in the breeze as Simon pointed to the tired looking old donkey in the road. He was already loaded with several saddle bags, as well as a few flies that seemed as part of the creature as its shaggy, gray coat and collapsed skull.
Gerald’s farm, which splayed behind the undead creature like a backdrop, was bright in the afternoon sun. A large farmhouse with a domed roof surrounded with windows, was topped with a shingled chimney and bronze weathervane. The stables beside it, which had housed their newly acquired mares, were squat and square with ivy crawling up the backside. Simon was standing in the long dirt road leading up to the house, case in hand. It was still dotted with fresh puddles from the rain a day before, and cart tracks from where the farmer made his run to town and back when the occasion rose.
“I can’t.” Dick clapped the young gentleman on the back like an old chum. “Can’t aim well from an ass. Need to be high.” He was still smiling as he spoke, talking in that annoying, boisterously loud voice that always seemed to accompany his demeanor. “Don’t worry ol’ boy! No one will poke fun at you.”
“No. Have Fae ride it then.” Simon looked away. The others were still by the stables, using the gold he had brought from Darlington to finalize the purchase.
“Look,” Mr. Dashing took the cross gentleman under his arm, “if you put up too much of a fuss, Miss Baxter will insist she ride it.”
Simon felt his ire sober a bit.
“We can’t have the young lady riding an ass now can we?” Dick straightened. “It would offend our gentlemanly nature.”
Simon had to admit that he wouldn’t want to force Miss Baxter to ride her old donkey. The beast was too short to keep her skirts from dragging on the ground, yet simply walking beside it like they had done before would be impossible now they had mounts.
“And,” Dashing continued, “Fae Hershal’s father gave you the gold that bought the mares in the first place. They’re practically hers.”
Simon frowned. Mr. Hershal had given that money to him to fund his holiday and work abroad. Mr. Todd was still rather ornery that she insisted he pay for the entirety of the mounts in the first place.
“That leaves you and Mr. Darcy, and he’s already told us he can’t ride a horse. How rude would it be of us if we told him to ride an ass by himself?”
Simon turned in a huff. “Well, I’m not that great at riding, myself!”
Mr. Dashing nodded. “Right. Which is why you should take good Salvador. Mr. Darcy can ride with Miss Hershal at the helm, and I’ll protect Miss Baxter from the front of the other. Can’t have her riding with someone unexperienced now can we?” He clapped his hands together, turning towards the barn. “It’s all set!”
“Are you ready?” Jane called from the barn. Out of nowhere it seemed, the man had procured a new set of brown, leather riding boots.
“Quite! Good Simon Todd has agreed to bite the bullet and ensure old Salvador is well taken care of!”
Damnation! Simon felt like he had been quite taken advantage of. He supposed, for a night in Piper’s Toss, he should have expected it. That he only escaped the flea ridden place a few coins short and with a dirty suit was nothing less than a miracle.
He cursed anyway, at least beneath his breath so the ladies wouldn’t hear. Walking up behind Mr. Dashing, stepping on the man’s shadow as though it were more than just an absence of light, Simon forced himself to smile with his lips tucked in over his teeth.
“Awfully big of you,” Mr. Darcy said, looking impressed.
F
ae Hershal laughed, patting the mangy Clydesdale, then shrinking back from the cloud of dust its coat produced. Both horses were accompanied by the bearded farmer, Gerald. He was a grisly man, in sooty trousers and a beige shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He had a face like an old stump, full of lines and rather round, though running along his forehead was a friendly brow joined into one at the center.
“Sounds like he was roped into it,” Fae said, taking the reins in one hand and expertly swinging her leg over the beast’s back, settling herself on the mare’s broad back. Simon remembered a long time ago how Mr. Hershal insisted she learn to ride. Mr. Todd was the young girl’s senior by only five years. Starting as a young boy, he had worked for the bank owner for over a decade. Simon learned his numbers from the man himself, apprenticed under his tutelage ever since he graduated from school. He remembered when Fae stormed the world in short pants and socks. She was always an opponent of the gown, that one. Riding had come easily to her. Mr. Hershal always said thereafter that she had a bit of centaur in her, on her mother’s side. Seeing her mount the horse now, Simon could almost believe it.
“You’d have to chain me to that thing to get me to ride it.” The farmer scowled, passing the other rein to Mr. Dashing as he regarded the old donkey. “Whatever creature spawned that thing needs to go back to the seven hells with it. It ain’t right.”
Simon swallowed back his agitation, looking to Miss Baxter who was silent.
“Ya best not be doing that to my horses,” he pointed with an accusing finger, “else I’ll be taking them back to the barn with me!”
Mr. Darcy pursed his lips, ignoring Fae when she had leaned from the saddle to offer a hand to him. “Gold has passed hands hasn’t it? I’m afraid they no longer belong to you.”
“They’re on my land still!” Gerald declared. “They’re mine as long as this land’s mine.”
Eventually, it was Dashing who spoke up. “A dead ass carries as any other,” he said in his usual energetic voice. “Easier to feed as well, eh old boy?”
He looked to Simon as he walked his mare close to allow Miss Baxter to mount it.
“R-right.” Mr. Todd stumbled back.
Gerald spat, his lip curling.
“Don’t worry, Sir Gerald,” her voice was soft, like a warm blanket on a cool winter’s night. “I promise, no harm will come to your horses.” Miss Baxter smiled. The gesture seemed to tame the older man, who relaxed his shoulders and began to grumble to himself.
“Anyway… we should probably be going.” Simon had to admit he was a bit surprised that Miss Baxter looked absolutely nonplussed regarding the matter. Handing her crook to Mr. Dashing when the issue was seemingly solved, she climbed a small step ladder that had been proffered for mounting and slipped onto the back of the old horse. Both mounts were a darker color, one with a heart shaped spot beneath its forelock.
Despite the old man’s rude disposition towards the ugly donkey, Simon had to admit he had momentarily forgotten himself as he regarded the young lady. Miss Baxter looked a vision on the back of a horse. Like some sort of damsel ready to be ridden away to a happy ending, Simon could only envision himself worthy enough to be her prince. When Dick climbed on ahead of her however, blocking his view, Simon scowled again, turning away to regard his ass.
“Thank you for the horses, Sir Gerald.” Miss Baxter waved as their heart spotted horse trotted ahead down the road. When it stopped after a moment to wait for the others, she continued optimistically. “We’ll keep good care of them, you have my word!”
Simon was continuously amazed at how sweet the girl could be, especially after she was inadvertently insulted by an old codger. He found himself quite taken by his thoughts of her when Mr. Darcy and Fae bounded up next to him.
“Too stubborn to ride a dead ass, or ya comin’?” Mr. Darcy looked quite uncomfortable on the back of a horse; that much was wholly apparent from the young man’s face.
Simon huffed, turning to regard old Salvador and leaving Mr. Darcy to his trepidations. Next to the mounts, that beast looked like a lump of moldy potatoes sitting on a rather swampy hillock.
It’s not fair, he thought, slumping on top of the undead beast like a deformed second head. Ebonguard was a few weeks away at least, and before that they’d have to pass through Birdwood and Fairweather Village as well as all sorts of hamlets in between.
“Let’s go, Simon Todd!” Fae called from the road, her white hair alight with the afternoon sun.
His legs hung over Salvador’s belly like fat, round sausages. Simon sulked. A few weeks! Dick would have Miss Baxter clasping his waist for weeks while he was here, straddling an ass in the arse end of their caravan.
Simon swore again, for the second time today. He was rather certain it wouldn’t be for the last time either.
Chapter 11
The Circus Of Exhaling Elephan-Tea
The grasslands leading out of Piper’s Toss was perhaps the farthest away Simon could ever recall being from home. Though the roads were mostly clear, save a few rain puddles congregating in the muddier regions, the terrain was rockier outside the city, with more rolling plain lands that swept the fields like large, rounded, emerald waves. Bellhat trees were the majority of the flora that populated the area, but occasionally Vinewood and Goldfork flowers would make a home between the swaying wheat and molting weeds.
The party was led by Dashing for the majority of the day, while Fae and Jane filled each other’s ears with stories of Fae’s upbringing as a bank owner’s daughter. It seemed to Simon, who had the pleasure of overhearing all the idle chatter from the back of his donkey, that Mr. Darcy was incredibly interested in all manners of finance. Though Fae may have not entirely sated the gentleman’s curiosity, she was after all, the bank man’s daughter and not his employee, and she did seem amicable to engage in the conversation. Mr. Todd, from the top of old Salvador, only wished he were able to contribute as well, but the road was too narrow to accommodate the farm horse and heavily laden donkey side by side.
So Simon had to resort to his daydreams as the grasslands trudged by, holding his nose when the scent of pollen infiltrated his nostrils, and shrinking away from spiders when he’d unexpectedly sneeze. At the end of day, when the sun began to blush red and the skies beyond bled into the hills, Dashing finally slowed his horse to a slow jog.
“Shouldn’t we be stopping soon?” Mr. Darcy called from the saddle.
“Ya getting’ sore already?” Fae laughed. “You’ve been shiftin’ around back there for the past hour or so.”
Jane frowned. Though he had fancied himself eager to sit upon a horse for the first time at the start of the journey, he was vastly regretting it now. His rear end was beyond tired and there was a terrible chafing sensation between his legs. How humans managed to waltz around the world without scales he’d never know.
“Right-o, my friend!” Dashing slipped from his saddle, taking the beast by the reins. Jane Darcy wasn’t the only one to breathe a sigh of relief at the intended rest. Simon Todd had also been quite fed up with the eternal clop clop clopping of the old donkey. Though the creature may have been long since deceased, its heavy gait and constant up and down made every step an agony to Mr. Todd’s inner thighs. Not to mention the Frelish gentleman’s backside.
Slipping to the ground with a sigh and hard rub to his posterior, Simon walked the several steps forward needed to join his party. He was almost surprised when Dashing threw the reins to him upon his arrival with the other companions, but as the moustachioed, young gunslinger made his way over the fields and towards another cluster of Bellhats, Simon suddenly remembered his role in the party.
“Equerry.” Fae grinned, handing her horse to him as well before turning to aid Mr. Darcy from its back.
“I think a zeppelin would have been a better way to travel,” the spectacled young man said to Miss Hershal, sourly missing his wings.
“Ain’t no zepplelins till Ebonguard I’m afraid.”
Jane grunted. “Dr
at.”
Simon watched the three as they made their way into the fields, forming a path through the weeds as they went. Dashing was already stomping down a campsite beneath a Bellhat tree, to which Simon chuckled.
“He looks a fool, stomping around like that,” he muttered, remembering himself when, from above him, Miss Baxter chuckled. “Oh. Apologies! Thought I was being rather quiet.” Mr. Todd looked up, seeing the lacy frills of the of the young lady’s petticoat from the ground. She was wearing heeled boots with polished black buttons. The image of the girl’s shapely leg swam to the forefront of his imagination and Simon, quite predictably, blushed.
“Pardon me,” he said, looking down.
Though the wheat fields and grass were thick and tall, the horses didn’t have any trouble descending from the road to where the campsite was pitched. Simon led the still mounted Miss Baxter and was more than happy to help her from its back when he had safely hitched the mounts to the nearby tree. Though it was still spring, summer was knocking, and the Bellhats were already full and green. The party set up everything in short order, pitching the tents, stoking the fire, and before long and a little after sunset, a great big pot of beef and barley was on the boil.
Simon was happy to be complemented on his delectable tastes in stew and the choice spices he used to enhance the broth. It wasn’t until tea time that he once again began to lament his loss of appetite. Everyone sat around enjoying a good cup of jasmine, proffered from Mr. Todd’s own personal supply. The fire smelled faintly of moss and scorched weeds, but had already burned into a few crisp glowing embers as the wind began to pick up.
“Do you know how many days until the next town?” Simon asked, sitting on his rolled up woolen blanket by the fire. Mr. Darcy had been silently reading a book, his back turned towards the flame as to better utilize the light. How the man was able to read using scarlet tinged spectacles seemed miraculous to Mr. Todd.
The Curious Case of Simon Todd Page 11