The Robin And The Kestrel

She slapped his knee with the ends of her reins by way of an answer. 'So what's the real plan?' she asked.

He finished the last of his pie, and licked his fingers. 'Th-there is a d-disguise, b-but n-not a d-dangerous one _'

It seemed to take forever to reach their destination, though perhaps that was anxiety and not reality. Finally the road dove down into the valley that contained Carthell Abbey; it was just before sunset, and the sky above the western hills glowed flame-streaked and glorious. Too bad the valley did not match the view_bare trees on either side of the road stretched riblike limbs toward them; a clammy, spectral mist rose from stagnant pools of water as they passed through the Beguilers' swamp. It was very cold and damp here, and the deep shadows of the surrounding hills made it colder still. But at least by now the treekies and the Beguilers would have gone into hibernation for the winter.

Now just so that there aren't any gellens or varks in this valley as well, Robin thought. Kestrel must have felt the same way, urging the horses to a faster pace. Be just our luck that there are nocturnal winter monsters here as well as the ones that hibernate.

Kestrel had taken over the reins shortly after he awoke; he stopped the horses well out of sight of the Abbey, and Robin climbed down off of the passengers seat. She was dressed in her warmest and drabbest, and she only hoped that Brother Pierce, the surly Gatekeeper, hadn't gotten a good look at her the last time they were here. Right now, she looked like a very respectable young woman straight out of Gradford, and that was what she wanted him to think she was.

A very respectable, very wealthy, and very assertive young woman. The kind Brother Pierce would have to answer, whether he liked it or not.

They unhitched one of the horses, and threw a blanket over it, hoping that in the semidarkness, it would look like a saddle. She trotted up the road to the Abbey afoot, leading the horse, for she did not know if it had ever been broken to ride, and now was not the time to find out! The brisk pace warmed her thoroughly, her breath puffing out in front of her in clouds of white. There was going to be a hard frost here tonight, and perhaps a light sprinkling of freezing rain... not ideal weather for camping. There wouldn't be a choice, however; not tonight. Far safer to camp than trust to the safety of any shelter offered by the Church. Assuming they would offer it.

Not bloody likely.

The Abbey loomed up around a bend in the road, lanterns beckoning with a promise of warmth that she already knew would not be kept. She hurried her pace a little; the horse tugged on the rein in her hand, and whickered. Poor thing; it thought she was taking it to a stable. If there were varks out here, she wanted to get back to the wagon as fast as she could!

She stopped, a few paces away from the door, to compose herself. The horse pawed the ground with impatience. When she had caught her breath, she rang the bell with an imperious hand, hoping to sound like the sort of person who was not used to being kept waiting.

When Brother Pierce did make his appearance, he gave no sign of recognizing her as anything other than a female, and thus, a major intrusion into his life. He frowned at her, his face taking on all the look of someone who had bitten into an unripe plum.

'What do you want?' he asked, rudely. 'Be off! We don't house vagabonds _'

'I'm no vagabond, you insolent knave!' Robin said, with shrill indignation. 'If this were Gradford, I'd have my servants horsewhip you to teach you manners!' She had heard enough of the wealthy women of Gradford and the way they spoke to underlings who offended them to enable her to produce a pretty fair imitation of their mannerisms. She drew herself up tall and proud, as he gaped at her, clearly taken aback by her rude response. 'I am Rowen Woolwright, sister to Master Orlina Woolwright of Gradford, and I demand to know what you have done with my sister! That cur of a High Bishop sent her here on some fools errand and _'

Brother Pierce's wizened face flushed as she began her harangue, but a sly smile crept over his features when he heard who it was Robin claimed to be. He made an abrupt gesture, startling the horse, and cutting off her torrent of words.

'Shut your mouth, woman, before it condemns you to a fate like hers!' he snapped, interrupting her. Now it was her turn to stare at him in simulated surprise that he should even dare to interrupt her. 'We'll have no truck with the agents of darkness here, nor heretics, either! She's not here, the sorcerous bawd! She conjured a demon and sent it to destroy the Holy High Bishop, but he was stronger than her dark magic, and the Hand of the Sacrificed God protected him. He defeated the demon, as a hundred witnesses can attest, and the demon itself betrayed its mistress.'

Robin hoped that she looked appropriately stunned. Evidently she did, for Brother Pierce smiled nastily.

'High Bishop Padrik had every right to condemn her, but he forgave her and sent her on a pilgrimage of penance to this Abbey,' he said, his voice full of glee. 'She's been sent to a holy shrine in the hills by our Abbot, as is his right and duty. She was unrepentant when she came, and he has sent her on to be judged. The Sacrificed God himself will be her judge once she reaches the holy shrine of the hills; if she returns from the shrine, well and good, she will be restored to her former position by the High Bishop himself.'