The Knight

He was looking behind us, and I turned to look too. Black clouds reached for the sun back there. While I watched, one was shot with lightning.

I clapped my heels to the bay. There is one thing you cannot ever take from a knight you beat even if you kill him. That is a pair of gold spurs. I had wanted Nytir’s, and bad; and yet I had never said a word about them, because of the law. I wanted them because they are the sign of knighthood, but as we rode out of Forcetti I wanted them because they were spurs. “We’ve got to shake a leg,” I yelled to Pouk, “or we’ll get soaked.”

He slapped his mount’s withers with the ends of the reins, kicked it, and swore until it broke into a pounding trot that nearly shook him out of the saddle. “I need to cut me a stick, sir, an’ I’ll stop off an’ do it first likely bush I see. I’ll catch up after, never fear. You feel like talkin’?”

I reined in the bay for Pouk’s sake. “Not particularly, but I don’t feel like not talking either. What do you want to talk about?”

“You was in a brown study, sir, if I can say it, so I didn’t want to fash you. Only I wanted to say, sir, there ain’t much point to ridin’ fast. That blow back there’ll hit long ‘fore we get to th’ castle. Only it won’t be so nice to ride in as what this is, sir, so there’s sense in hurryin’ after all. Only they’ll be waitin’ dinner on us, sir. We told ’em we was comin’.”

I snapped my fingers. “That farm. That’s right! I wanted to talk to Duns.”

“Naturally you’d forget, sir, thinkin’ hard like you was. Another thin’, sir. Time we eat it’ll be pourin’ fit to founder us an’ a wind to knock you down. You really think Master Agr’d mind if we stopped overnight, like, and kept his horses out a’ th’ blow?”

“Probably not. He’d overlook it, I’m sure, even if he didn’t okay it.”

“That’s my feelin’ too, sir. It’s landsmen, sir, what think you ought to sail in all weathers. From what I seen a’ them at the castle, they’re not landsmen when it comes to horses, if you take my meanin’.”

Pouk cleared his throat. “There’s one other thin’ I been itchin’ to ask, sir, an’ no offense meant, but why’d you tell that smith to do a plain green shield? Don’t say nothin’, sir, if you don’t feel like it.”

“It’s no big secret, but once I thought of it I could see it was the thing to do. Look here.” I took the helm from my saddlebow and held it up. “I should tell you I took the little wooden ram off the top and threw it away. That was yellow, but what color is this?”

“Green, sir.”

“Right. It would cost to have it repainted, cost money we can’t afford to spend. The steel cap you packed for me is enameled, too. Maybe you noticed.”

“Aye, sir. Only I’d not thought about it.”

“A design on my shield would cost quite a bit, even a simple one like the heart and sun you suggested. Or the mossy tree I was thinking about myself. So plain green—my lady is Queen of the Moss Aelf.”

Chapter 38. The Wind In The Chimney

It was raining hard by the time we reached the farm. One of the sons opened the barn for us, and we rode in and tethered our horses in a crowded herd. I told

Pouk he had to unload the sumpter so it could rest while we ate.

“Ya won’t get no fancy meal,” the son warned me. “We’s plain folk here.”

“So am I, and so is Pouk.” I offered my hand. “I’m Sir Able.”

The son wiped his hand on his soaking trouser leg. “Duns’ my name, sar. ’Tis wet ‘n I begs your pardon fer it.”

“So is mine,” I told him. We shook hands, after which he shook hands with

Pouk.

Uns joined us after that. At first I thought him only a shorter version of

Duns; later on, when I got a look at him in a better light, I saw there was something the matter with his back.

I asked our hostess’s name, and Duns said, “Mother’s Nukara, sar, on’y she’s cookin’ ‘n can’t come out ta talk ’til it’s ready, ‘n when ’tis we’ll eat.”

“I understand. If this rain keeps up, we may be begging you for beds as well as a meal, if you’ve got any to spare.”

“Won’t last ta moomrise,” Uns muttered. “Wind’s gonna die, rain keep a-goin’ awhile.” He was an excellent weather prophet, as I was to learn. Duns nodded. “We got da ’un bed ‘n that’s aw, sar, on’y I kin give ya mine.”

“I’ll sleep on deck, sir,” Pouk put in hastily. “You know I’m one what’s done it many’s a time.”

Seeing through him, I grinned. “At my door, to keep the ghost from killing me in my sleep.”

“Aye, sir. Try, sir.”

“Tomorrow we’ll have to ride back to Sheerwall, storm or no storm,” I told him. “I’m landsman enough for that. But we may stay here tonight, if our hostess is willing. If we stay, we must remember to unsaddle these horses and see that they’re fed. What do you think, Duns? Will Pouk and I catch sight of your ghost if we stay the night?”

“He’s no joke, sar.”

“Not to you, I’m sure. Maybe he shouldn’t be one to me either. When we were here before, your mother told me he crippled you for a year.” Duns nodded, his homely, sunburned face grim.

“Suppose I wanted a look at him. What should I do?”