Fool's Errand (Tawny Man, #1)(136)

“I think I'll be fine. I'll find an empty stall in the stable and sleep there. If the hostler asks, I'll tell him I'm in disgrace.” I turned to go, then thought to ask, “Will you be able to get back into the inn, dressed like that?”

“Just because I sometimes wear the clothes of a nobleman, don't think I've forgotten all the tricks of a tumbler.”

He sounded almost offended. “I'll get back in the way I got out: through the window.”

“Good. I may take a walk about the town, to 'clear my head.' And to see what I can discover. If you can make the opportunity, go to the common room. Stir the gossip pot and see if you hear anything of strangers with a hunting cat passing through here yesterday.” I started to add something about bloodshed in the street, but stopped myself. There was little chance it directly related to us. “Very well. Fitz. Go carefully.” “There's no need to remind me of that.” I started to step away from him but he suddenly caught at my arm. “Don't go just yet. I've wanted to talk to you all day.” He abruptly let go of me and crossed his arms on his chest. He took a ragged breath. “I did not think this would be so hard. I've played so many roles in my life. I thought it would be easy, that it might even be fun to play master to your man. It's not.”

“No. It's hard. But I think it's wise.” “We've blundered too many times with Laurel.” I shrugged helplessly. “That is as it is. She knows we were both chosen by the Queen. Perhaps we can leave her in confusion and let her draw her own conclusions. They might be more convincing than anything we could fabricate.”

He cocked his head and smiled. “Yes. That tactic pleases me. For now, we shall discover what we can tonight, and plan an early start in the morning.”

We separated at those words. He withdrew into the darkness, vanishing as adeptly as Nighteyes could. I watched for him to cross the innyard but did not see him. I caught one brief glimpse of him as he vaulted back through the darkened window. I did not hear a sound.

Nighteyes pressed heavily against my leg. What news? I asked him. Our Wit was as silent as the warmth of his body against me. Bad news. Keep silent and follow.

He took me, not through the main streets of town, but away from its center. I wondered where we were going, but dared not reach forth to touch minds with him. I curbed my Wit, though it dulled my senses not to share the wolf's awareness. We ended up in a rocky field near the river's edge. He took me to the edge of it, where large trees grew. The tall dry grasses had been tramped down flat there. I caught a whiff of cooked meat and cold ashes. Then my eyes pieced together the length of rope still hanging from a tree, and the burnedout fire beneath it. I stood very still. The night wind off the river stirred the ashes and suddenly the smell of cooked meat sickened me. I put my hand over the extinguished coals. They were sodden and cold. A fire deliberately set and deliberately drowned. I poked at them, and felt the telltale greasiness of dripping fat. They had been more than thorough. Hung, cut in quarters, burned, and the remains thrown in the river.

I moved well away from the fire to the shelter of the trees. I sat down on a big rock there. The wolf came and sat beside me. After a time, I remembered his meat and gave it to him. He ate it without ceremony. I sat with my hand over my mouth, wondering. Coldness moved through me where blood had once flowed. Townsmen had done this, and now they ate and laughed and sang songs at the inn. They had done this to someone just like me. Perhaps to the son of my body.

No. The blood does not smell right. It was not him.

It was a small comfort. It only meant that he had not died today. Did the townsfolk hold him somewhere? Was the lively night at the inn an anticipation of more blood sport on the morrow?

I became aware of someone coming softly through the night toward us. She came from the direction of the town lights, but did not walk on the road. She came through the trees at the edge of the road, moving near soundlessly.

Huntingwoman.

Laurel stepped from the shadow of the trees. I watched , her as she moved purposefully toward the burned patch. As "I had earlier, she crouched over it, sniffing, and then touching the ashes.

I stood, making just enough sound to let her know I was there. She flinched, spinning to confront us.

“How long ago?” I asked the night.

Laurel sighed out a small breath as she recognized us. Then, “Just this afternoon,” she answered quietly. “My maid told me about it. Bragged, actually, of how the lad she is to marry was right in the thick of it, getting rid of the Piebald. That's what they call them in this valley. Piebalds.”

The river wind blew between us. “So you came out here ... ?”

“To see what was left to be seen. Which isn't much. I feared it might be our Prince, but ê”

“No.” Nighteyes was leaning heavily against me, and I shared what we both suspected. “But I think it was one of his companions.”

“If you know that much, then you know the others fled.”

I hadn't known that, but I was shamefully relieved to hear it. “Were they pursued?”

“Yes. And the men who chased them off have not returned yet. Some chased, some stayed to kill the one they had caught. It is planned that the ones who did this” êand she indicated the rope and the fire circle with a disdainful kickê“will ride out in the morning. There is some anxiety that their friends have not returned yet. Tonight they'll drink, and build up both their courage and anger. Tomorrow they'll ride.”