Assassin's Quest

The buildings were not old. They looked as if they had been recently completed. There was an ample barn. Wagons and all, we led the horses down into it, for the earth had been dug away so that the barn was half underground. This low profile was why we had not seen this place from the road, and I didn't doubt that was the reason for it. Unless a man knew this place was here, he'd never find it. The earth from the digging had been heaped up around the barn and other buildings. Inside the thick walls with the doors shut, we could not even hear the wind. A milk cow shifted in her stall as we unhitched the horses and put them in stalls. There was straw and hay and a trough of fresh water.

The pilgrims had got out of the wagon, and I was helping Kettle down when the barn door opened again. A lithe young woman with a mass of red hair piled on her head came storming in. Fists on her hips, she confronted Nik. "Who are all these people and why have you brought them here? What good is a bolthole if half the countryside knows of it?'"

Nik handed his horse to one of his men and turned to her. Without a word, he swept her into his arms and kissed her. But a moment later, she pushed him away. "What are you …"

"They paid well. They've their own food, and can make do in here for the night. Then they'll be on their way to the Mountains tomorrow. Up there, no one cares what we do. There's no danger, Tel, you worry too much."

"I have to worry for two, for you haven't the sense to. I've food ready, but not enough for all this lot. Why didn't you send a bird to warn me?"

"I did. Didn't it get here? Maybe the storm delayed it."

"That's what you always say when you don't think to do it."

"Let it go, woman. I've good tidings for you. Let's go back to your house and talk." Nik's arm rested easily about her waist as they left. It was up to his men to settle us. There was straw to sleep in and plenty of space to spread it. There was a dug well with a bucket outside for water. There was a small hearth at one end of the barn. The chimney smoked badly, but it sufficed to cook on. The barn was not warm, save in comparison to the weather outside. But no one complained. Nighteyes had stayed outside.

They've a coop full of chickens, he told me. And a pigeon coop, too.

Leave them alone, I warned him.

Starling started to leave with Nik's men when they went up to the house, but they stopped her at the door. "Nik says all of you are to stay inside tonight, in one place." The man shot a meaningful glance at me. In a louder voice, he called, "Get your water now, for we'll be bolting the door when we leave. It keeps the wind out better."

No one was fooled by his comment, but no one challenged it. Obviously the smuggler felt the less we knew of his bolthole, the better. That was understandable. Instead of complaining we fetched water. Out of habit, I replenished the animals' trough. As I hauled the fifth bucket, I wondered if I would ever lose the reflex of seeing to the beasts first. The pilgrims had devoted themselves to seeing to their own comfort. Soon I could smell food cooking on the hearth. Well, I had dried meat and hard bread. It would suffice.

You could be hunting with me. There's game here. They had a garden this summer and the rabbits are still coming for the stalks.

He sprawled in the lee of the chicken house, the bloody remnants of a rabbit across his forepaws. Even as he ate, he kept one eye on the snow-covered garden patch, watching for other game. I chewed a stick of dry meat glumly while I heaped up straw for Kettle's bed in the stall next to her horse. I was spreading her blanket over it when she returned from the fire carrying her teapot.

"Who put you in charge of my bedding?" she demanded. As I took a breath to reply, she added, "Here's tea if you've a cup to your name. Mine's in my bag on the cart. There's some cheese and dried apples there as well. Fetch it for us, there's a good lad."

As I did so, I heard Starling's voice and harp take up a tune. Singing for her supper, I didn't doubt. Well, it was what minstrels did, and I doubted she'd go hungry. I brought Kettle's bag back to her, and she portioned me out a generous share while eating lightly herself. We sat on our blankets and ate. During the meal, she kept glancing at me, and finally declared, "You've a familiar cast to your features, Tom. What part of Buck did you say you were from?"

"Buckkeep Town," I replied without thinking.

"Ah. And who was your mother?"

I hesitated, then declared, "Sal Flatfish." She had so many children running about Buckkeep Town, there was probably one named Tom.

"Fisherfolk? How did a fisherwoman's son end up a shepherd?"

"My father herded," I extemporized. "Between the two trades, we did well enough."

"I see. And they taught you courtly courtesies to old women. And you've an uncle in the Mountains. Quite a family."