that were possible, do you suspect I’d retain her on a dangerous journey such as this? Or order her to scout alone, and not rend the hair from my scalp in worry? No. A camp follower who cooks a good quail or sucks a good cock, you keep around. But someone who’s ensnared your heart is someone you leave at home for peace of mind.”
I started to ask something else but he cut me off, “Enough on that. When I determine the time is ripe, you shall know more of her… utility to me, and not a moment before. And if that only inflames your curiosity, I say to you, a writer without curiosity is a bird without feathers.”
I expected he’d turn us about and return us to the road, but we continued rolling on over the tall grass, gusts of wind turning it about like choppy waves. I held my tongue, waiting, thinking perhaps he was simply anticipating a curve in road ahead, and that we were only crossing a relatively small stretch of steppe before stumbling across it again.
However, the time passed in silence and nothing was going as expected. As calmly as possible, I said, “We’re not returning to the road.”
“Very astute. And I’ll preempt a few more observations to save you the trouble: the sky is still above us; the sun continues trekking west; our wagon is pulled by horses, not unicorns.”
“But… I don’t understand. Why did we take the road at all if you only intended to leave it?”
He replied, “Immediately riding off into the wilderness would have drawn undue attention. It’s simply not done. But there are few eyes this far out, and I no longer wish to be part of traffic. And as to the why of it, that’s for me to reveal, not for you to puzzle out. I hired you to archive, not navigate. When next you’re hired to navigate, your counsel on such subjects shall be welcome and warranted, but not before.”
I tried to quell the small bursts of panic in my chest. “But we’ll… we’ll get lost won’t we?”
He laughed. “I don’t intend to strike through the heart of the Green Sea. We only cut across one small bay. And though Lloi hasn’t called this place home for some years, she still knows it well enough to guide us through. Fear not, Arki. I’ll return us to civilization soon enough.”
I could tell his patience with my line of questioning was growing thin, but I couldn’t stop myself. “But… but the grass isn’t safe, is it? There are Grass Dogs, and I’ve heard of a number of creatures that—”
“We will be safer there than on the road. Of that, you can be sure.”
“But there are Hornmen on the road, to protect travelers. And—”
“And do you believe no one is accosted or robbed or killed on the road?”
Now I understood the point Mulldoos was arguing before leaving Rivermost. “I didn’t say that. But surely it must be safer than going where there’s no protection at—”
“Enough.” He pulled his gloves tighter on his hands and glared at me. “You yammer like an old addled woman. Be silent or go back in the wagon.”
So rebuffed, I opted to get off the bench and walk alongside the wagon for a few miles. As the sun neared the horizon, he signaled that we were halting for the day to make camp. Braylar leapt down and unharnessed the horses. I offered to help, hoping he’d decline, but he nodded. While I was hardly comfortable around them, I followed his lead, unbuckling the straps as he had. We didn’t lead them out to graze, however. Braylar retrieved some hobbles from the wagon and fitted them to the horses’ legs. Then he handed me a brush. Not being a groom, I wasn’t sure about the best way to proceed and made the mistake of asking.
He replied, “You stick it as far up their asses as you can. When you’re through, withdraw it and brush your hair. It will make your coat shine.”
Opting not to follow those lovely directions, I did the best I could. Though I’m sure it was an inexpert and clumsy job, and I was probably too delicate, or too rough, the horses
I started to ask something else but he cut me off, “Enough on that. When I determine the time is ripe, you shall know more of her… utility to me, and not a moment before. And if that only inflames your curiosity, I say to you, a writer without curiosity is a bird without feathers.”
I expected he’d turn us about and return us to the road, but we continued rolling on over the tall grass, gusts of wind turning it about like choppy waves. I held my tongue, waiting, thinking perhaps he was simply anticipating a curve in road ahead, and that we were only crossing a relatively small stretch of steppe before stumbling across it again.
However, the time passed in silence and nothing was going as expected. As calmly as possible, I said, “We’re not returning to the road.”
“Very astute. And I’ll preempt a few more observations to save you the trouble: the sky is still above us; the sun continues trekking west; our wagon is pulled by horses, not unicorns.”
“But… I don’t understand. Why did we take the road at all if you only intended to leave it?”
He replied, “Immediately riding off into the wilderness would have drawn undue attention. It’s simply not done. But there are few eyes this far out, and I no longer wish to be part of traffic. And as to the why of it, that’s for me to reveal, not for you to puzzle out. I hired you to archive, not navigate. When next you’re hired to navigate, your counsel on such subjects shall be welcome and warranted, but not before.”
I tried to quell the small bursts of panic in my chest. “But we’ll… we’ll get lost won’t we?”
He laughed. “I don’t intend to strike through the heart of the Green Sea. We only cut across one small bay. And though Lloi hasn’t called this place home for some years, she still knows it well enough to guide us through. Fear not, Arki. I’ll return us to civilization soon enough.”
I could tell his patience with my line of questioning was growing thin, but I couldn’t stop myself. “But… but the grass isn’t safe, is it? There are Grass Dogs, and I’ve heard of a number of creatures that—”
“We will be safer there than on the road. Of that, you can be sure.”
“But there are Hornmen on the road, to protect travelers. And—”
“And do you believe no one is accosted or robbed or killed on the road?”
Now I understood the point Mulldoos was arguing before leaving Rivermost. “I didn’t say that. But surely it must be safer than going where there’s no protection at—”
“Enough.” He pulled his gloves tighter on his hands and glared at me. “You yammer like an old addled woman. Be silent or go back in the wagon.”
So rebuffed, I opted to get off the bench and walk alongside the wagon for a few miles. As the sun neared the horizon, he signaled that we were halting for the day to make camp. Braylar leapt down and unharnessed the horses. I offered to help, hoping he’d decline, but he nodded. While I was hardly comfortable around them, I followed his lead, unbuckling the straps as he had. We didn’t lead them out to graze, however. Braylar retrieved some hobbles from the wagon and fitted them to the horses’ legs. Then he handed me a brush. Not being a groom, I wasn’t sure about the best way to proceed and made the mistake of asking.
He replied, “You stick it as far up their asses as you can. When you’re through, withdraw it and brush your hair. It will make your coat shine.”
Opting not to follow those lovely directions, I did the best I could. Though I’m sure it was an inexpert and clumsy job, and I was probably too delicate, or too rough, the horses
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