Here you'll find

 

HONOR BOUND

 

 

 

Chapter 14

I stumble on nothing, again, and stop to catch my breath after the near fall. The sun will be setting soon and dusk will fall but still there's no sight of a village ahead. For the hundredth time I curse my overconfident decision to continue on my way. Why didn't I stay in the previous village, small as it was? I should've remembered that I'm no more the man I used to be. The limp is with me to stay and my bad ankle is hurting more with every step. But I cannot stay here, there's not even a barn to give me a roof over my head for the night, and the ragged clouds look heavy enough to send more sleet my way any moment now.

How far is it still? Even though I walk more slowly nowadays I should be pretty close, at least by my own reckoning, and I'll be damned if I stop to rest now that the light is beginning to fail! I grab my walking stick tight and try to quicken my step to make up for my shorter stride. Why, oh why did I have to be so eager to get to that crossroads today? I shake my head and trudge on.

I guess it's so hard to accept the situation because I don't want to admit it 每 that I'm a wreck, nothing more. Thank goodness for the kind people who let me stay in Mordhes for those precious days to rest and recover, and thank goodness for the warmth and food they gave me. It seemed to be what I needed to regain some use of my hands so that now I'm able to use a walking stick and even play some, even if the swifter, gayer tunes are still way beyond me.

Another bend in the road, another empty stretch ahead, and a thin sheet of rain and sleet falls on my head. I send a poisonous glance towards the cloud from which it comes and pull the hood of my cloak tighter. Just keep walking, I tell myself, because there's nothing else you can do.

So I keep walking, slowly but without stopping, until dusk creeps into the woods around me and begins to turn the yellowed trees darker and darker brown. And then something else mingles with the smell of wet, cold earth and rotting leaves: a faint but unmistakable scent of smoke. Smoke means fire, a fire means people, and people just might mean the village I've been longing to see!

Indeed, another couple of bends later I see something twinkling ahead and at last it's there: a real village, with big houses that signal its importance. This is it, I've reached the crossroads, and here I can look forward to finding an inn. There perhaps I won't need to pray for mere kindness, there will be people who just might feel charitable enough to listen to the tunes I'm still able to play, and give me food and shelter in return. With renewed determination I limp on towards the houses and the safety of human company.

It's getting dark and I get some curious glances from the people still out and about, but I've already seen what I'm looking for. It's the most welcome sight I can think of: a large house, not that far removed from the ordinary, save for the telltale pair of lanterns hung outside the door. For me they mark the gateway to heaven 每 to an inn.

There are perhaps a dozen people sitting around a few tables and talking. The air is thick with the smell of beer and smoke and cooking meat, so warm and overpowering that my knees nearly give in for sheer relief. A large woman peers through the door to an adjoining room, then steps towards me and wipes her hands on her apron.

"A minstrel!" She beams at me. "Looking for a place to rest for the night, right? You're most welcome!"

"Thank you, Mistress," I say, feeling how all the strength I've summoned to get this far seeps out of my limbs. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a minstrel any more after I hurt my hands a while ago, but I'll endeavor to do my best to entertain your guests if you could show me some corner to sleep in?"

"But certainly, certainly!" She fusses over me like a mother-hen who has found a long lost chick. "And don't you worry about tonight, you must be tired and there'll be people to listen to you on any night! First of all you need to get warm, though, after walking in that nasty weather! Have you hurt your leg as well?"

"This is an old injury," I lie fluently. "But yes, thank you, I am indeed rather cold."

She readily directs me to the bathhouse and I pad closer. The door opens and belches out a cloud of steam through which two men emerge in their shirt sleeves and with clothes bundled under one arm. They greet me in passing and I dive into the cloud.

When I enter the washroom there's another man inside. He answers my greeting with a cheerful nod, then continues washing himself as I plop on a stool and grab a bucket. I guess I'm really beginning to nod off, though, for when he's ready to go he gives my shoulder a shove.

"Hey, minstrel, it's no good falling asleep here!" he says. "Better try to keep your eyes open, you hear me?"

He's right, so I mumble a thank you and do as he says but cannot resist the temptation to take a moment and let my feet soak in some hot water. In the heavenly heat even my bad ankle nearly stops grumbling, and I just sit there to savor the feeling until I wake up with a start and nearly fall from the stool. No, this won't do, I need to get up now or I might get drowsy enough to stumble and even burn myself!

Back in the inn the matron ushers me to sit down at a small table and brings me a bowl of something that looks and smells promisingly like stew. I dig into it and see in the corner of my eye how she keeps throwing approving glances at me. Mother-hen indeed, and oh how good it feels.

Looks like there are more people staying at this inn than I thought, or else this is a favorite convening place for the villagers as well. The tables are filling rapidly, the matron and her equally stout and beaming husband keep whisking food and drinks around with cheerful efficiency, and I do my best to melt into the wall. In spite of my best intentions I'm having to admit defeat: I'm so tired that my eyes cross, and really in no condition to play three notes in a row. I just hope they won't ask me to play anything tonight.

The wooden floor thumps dully under booted feet that walk across it and stop next to my table. Reluctantly I force my head up and swallow a couple of times before any sound comes out.

"Knight Rogher."

"Is that how you greet an old friend?"

I'm sure I haven't seen those clothes before, they look smart and brand new, and also the boots are far less scratched and worn than any pair I've ever seen him wear. He sits down on the opposite side of the table without asking for permission, not that he really needs to.

"So here you are."

"Y-yes." I try to gauge his expression but it gives nothing away.

The matron scurries over and he glances at her. "Two beers."

Quickly I raise my hand. "Please, just a small cup for me, I'm so full I couldn't possibly 每"

"That's all right," she smiles, "just a small cup then!"

I wish Rogher didn't look at me like that. The heavy stare unnerves me until I'm hard put not to fidget.

"Where have you been?"

"I, uh, I've." How to answer that? "I stayed with this one shepherd up on the mountains, and now I thought I'd be going east."

"Up on the mountains? Going east?" He crosses his arms on the table, eyes intense. "What's this talk? Why didn't you come to Noragayll?"

I glance nervously around; some people have turned to look at us. Rogher's lips press into a tight line and it clearly takes some effort lower his voice once more.

"Come on, Zyan. Explain. What the hell happened to you? Why didn't anyone know your whereabouts? A minstrel shouldn't be that bloody hard to spot, and yet nobody heard a single word of you for weeks, though not for the lack of trying!"

"They were looking for a minstrel for the wedding, right?" I quickly grab the first straw and force a smile on my face. "Did they find someone, Daell maybe? I heard he'd been traveling east."

Rogher's eyes narrow.

"You heard?" he repeats slowly. "That means you've visited the same places, but only after he'd been there first. Yes, we found him and he was happy to play for Lord Jhorell and his bride, but he was also much distressed to hear that nobody seemed to know a damn thing about you. Now he's staying in Noragayll for the winter."

"Good for him," I say, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, because Rogher's fist tightens on the table.

"Don't try to distract me," he growls. "I want explanations, Zyan, and I want them now, so start talking!"

The matron, bless her, chooses this moment to whisk the beers our way and gives me a moment to think while Rogher takes a long swig from his tankard. He's not going to let that deter him, though, just wipes his moustache and then levels a hard stare at me.

"Let's start from when I last heard of you," he says. "That day when you went down to get us food from the village. When you returned, there was someone following you up that hill, right?"

"Yes. Yes there was." I hang my head in shame. "And I'll never forgive myself for not realizing it until I was practically there already."

"But you did, and you also came up with that ingenious way to warn us." Rogher snorts. "I admit that at first I nearly came to wring your neck because surely you'd gone out of your mind, but luckily I was quick enough to realize that you had to have a bloody good reason to choose that particular song, and to be singing it right there and then."

He's silent for a while, picking on a fold on his sleeve.

"But what happened then, Zyan? Where the hell did you disappear? I wanted to come back for you but couldn't, just in case it wasn't a false alarm. I had to take her to Noragayll first."

"Of course you had to!" I cannot hide my surprise. "And I hear you succeeded, too, or Lord Jhorell would still be without a wife."

He lets out a little grunt. "Yes, I reckon so he would."

"Why that face?" I inquire.

"We're not the best of friends, me and Lady Inella," Rogher says flatly. "First she complains to my Lord Jhorell that I'd been treating her less courteously than I should've, hadn't let her rest enough and so on 每 well, luckily Jhorell didn't heed to that talk too much, he has enough sense in his head to know that the main thing was to get over the mountains quickly and in one piece, even if I might've forgotten to say 'please' at every turn! But then she had the gall to suggest that maybe you'd done it on purpose. That maybe you'd met someone down in that village, someone who'd paid you well to lead them to us." 

Her pride has taken a blow during the ordeal and this is how she's paying back, I think glumly, but it hurts nonetheless. Rogher glances at me, thick eyebrows in an angry knot.

"The things a woman can do, it keeps baffling me over and again, because after a while my Lord Jhorell was half ready to believe that nonsense! I told him that I'd go looking for you but he wouldn't let me because there were more important matters, such as going to make sure that the Lady's dowry got to Noragayll as well." Rogher takes another swig of beer. "Well, I did ride out with the men and a good thing, too, because otherwise that bastard Berdar just might've got his filthy hands on the lot! But when that mess was cleared up and everything accounted for, there still was no trace of you."

"Was the maid all right?" I ask.

"She's all right now, although she did take some beating up when those dogs raided the convoy," Rogher says. "Now, this is enough of me talking. You're doing your goddamned best to distract me again and I tell you it's not going to work, not this time! My Lord Jhorell didn't want to let me go and look for you, we nearly came to blows over the matter and I nearly walked out on him to find you and get some answers, and I haven't done it all for nothing!"

He takes a deep breath. "So. Once more, Zyan. Why didn't you come to Noragayll, or to Tmer Manor for that matter?"

"I was afraid," I half whisper. "It was such a terrible blunder, I wasn't sure that I might not have destroyed everything by being so incredibly stupid, and I was afraid you'd be furious with me. That you might've thought I'd betrayed you."

Rogher's eyebrow slants up and he gives me a withering look.

"Is that how highly you think of me? That  I wouldn't know you any better?"

"I 每"

He cuts me short. "Whatever. The next question is, where the hell have you been all these weeks? And," he raises a warning finger, "before you try to feed me some yarn about going this way and that, I might tell you that I know for sure it's a lie. I have many friends in the castle and they were obliging enough to make some inquiries as they went about. If any living soul had seen you anywhere within fifty miles or so, I would've heard of it. You've been hiding somewhere."

"But I told you!" I'm getting desperate. "I was staying up in the mountains, with this old shepherd who grazes his sheep there all summer."

"So you just strolled there and asked if you could perhaps stay in his lovely little house for a few weeks?" Rogher shakes his head. "Sorry, Zyan, a minstrel really should be able to come up with something more believable."

"It's the truth, nevertheless!"

Suddenly his big hand presses over mine, grabs it by the wrist and forces it up. I'm no match to him and can only watch as he slowly turns my hand around and looks at it, eyes narrowing.

"What's happened to your hand?"

"I... I fell and hurt it on a stone. You know, when I was climbing those rocky paths up there."

He draws a deep breath, then slams his palms on the table and pushes himself up so abruptly that I start.

"Right."

He down the rest of his beer in one gulp and swirls around to face the matron. "Thank you, Mistress, we're retiring now. No need to look for a bed for him, we'll be sharing my room."

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