Assassin's Quest

Downstairs in the kitchen Pelf had stacks of griddle cakes keeping warm by the cooking hearth. She offered me a plate with butter and honey and I was only too glad to accept. The house, so quiet a place the day before, was now thronged with folk. From the strong resemblances, this was a family business. The small boy with the spotted kid was sitting at a stool by the table, feeding the goat bits of griddle cake. From time to time, I caught him staring at me. When I smiled back, the boy's eyes got wide. With a serious expression he arose and carried his plate off, with the goat skittering after him.

Nik strode through the kitchen, black wool cloak swirling about his calves. It was dotted with fresh snowflakes. He caught my eye in passing. "Ready to go?"

I gave a nod.

"Good." He gave me a glance on his way out. "Dress warmly. Storm is just beginning." He grinned. "Perfect traveling weather for you and me."

I told myself I had not expected to enjoy the trip. I had finished my breakfast before Starling came down the stairs. When she reached the kitchen, she surprised me. I had expected her to be sleepy. Instead she was brightly alert, her cheeks flushed and mouth laughing. As she came into the kitchen she was trading quips with one of the men, and getting the best of it. She did not hesitate when she got to table, but helped herself to a hearty serving of everything. When she looked up from her empty plate, she must have seen the surprise on my face.

"Minstrels learn to eat well when food is offered," she said, and held her cup out to me. She was drinking beer with her breakfast. I filled her cup from the pitcher on the table. She had just set her mug down with a sigh when Nik came through the kitchen looking like a storm cloud. He caught sight of me and stopped in midstride. "Ah. Tom. Can you drive a horse?"

"Certainly."

"Well?"

"Well enough," I said quietly.

"Good, then, we're ready to go. My cousin Hank was to drive, but he's breathing like a bellows this morning, took a cough in the night. His wife won't let him go. But if you can drive a cart …"

"He'll expect you to adjust your fee," Starling broke in suddenly. "By driving a horse for you, he's saved you the cost of a horse for himself. And what your cousin would have eaten."

Nik was taken aback for a moment. He glanced from Starling to me. "Fair is fair," I observed. I tried not to smile.

"I'll make it right," he conceded, and hastened out of the kitchen again. In a short time he was back. "The old woman says she'll try you. It's her horse and wagon, you see."

It was still dark outside. Torches spluttered in the wind and snow. Folk hurried about, hoods up and cloaks well fastened. There were four wagons and teams. One was full of people, about fifteen of them. They huddled together, bags on their laps, heads bowed against the cold. A woman glanced toward me. Her face was full of apprehension. At her side, a child leaned against her. I wondered where they had all come from. Two men loaded a cask into the last wagon, then stretched a canvas over the whole load.

Behind the wagon loaded with passengers was a smaller two wheeled cart. A little old woman swathed all in black sat erect on the seat. She was well bundled in cloak, hood, and shawl, with a traveling blanket thrown across her knees as well. Her sharp black eyes watched me carefully as I walked around her rig. The horse was a speckled mare. She didn't like the weather and her harness was binding her. I adjusted it as best as I could, persuading her to trust me. When I was finished, I looked up to find the old woman watching me closely. Her hair was glistening black where it peeped from her hood, but not all of the white in it was snow. She pursed her lips at me but said nothing, even when I stowed my pack under the seat. I gave her "Good day" as I climbed up on the seat beside her and took up the reins. "I think I'm supposed to be driving for you," I said genially.

"You think. Don't you know?" She peered at me sharply.

"Hank has been taken ill. Nik asked if I would drive your mare. My name is Tom."

"I don't like changes," she told me. "Especially not at the last minute. Changes say you weren't really ready in the first place, and now you're even less ready."

I suspected I knew why Hank was suddenly feeling poorly. "My name is Tom," I introduced myself again.

"You already said that," she informed me. She stared off into the falling snow. "This whole trip was a bad idea," she said aloud, but not to me. "And no good is going to come of it. I can see that right now." She kneaded her gloved hands in her lap. "Damn old bones," she said to the falling snow. "If it weren't for my old bones, I'd not need a one of you. Not a one."

I could think of nothing to reply to that, but was saved by Starling. She reined in beside me. "Will you look at what they've given me to ride?" she challenged me. Her mount shook her black mane and rolled her eyes at me as if demanding that I look at what she was expected to carry.