The Robin And The Kestrel

Mother Tolley's face had gone so completely blank from astonishment that Kestrel couldn't tell what her feelings were. He guessed she would have been pleased to learn that Rune was doing well_but that this was something she wasn't prepared to cope with.

'I was at the ceremony, myself,' Robin rattled on, in a confidential tone, as if she was a name-dropping scatterbrain. 'As one of Lady Lark_that's what we call her, Lady Lark_one of Lady Lark's personal friends, of course. My! Even a Duke's daughter would envy her! She has twelve servants, all her very own_three of them just to tend to her wardrobe!'

Kestrel elbowed her sharply; she'd already gone too far three lies ago. She ignored him.

'The King himself gave her so much gold and gems that she couldn't possibly spend it all, and the weight of her jewelry would drown her if she ever fell into a river wearing it!' Robin gave him a warning look when he moved to elbow her again. 'She wears silk every day, and she has three carriages to ride, and she bathes in wine, they say _' Robin simpered. Kestrel did his best not to laugh at her expression, despite his unease. He hadn't known she could simper. She was a better actress than he'd thought. 'Our wagon and the horses and all_that was her present to me. You know, she gave wagons and horses to all her Gypsy friends who came to the ceremony. So sweet of her, don't you think?'

Mother Tolley had gone beyond astonished. 'Yes,' she said faintly. 'Yes, very sweet. Of course.'

Calling Rune one of King Rolend's Laurel Bards and a personal advisor was not exactly the truth_and the picture Robin had painted of Rune and Talaysen wallowing in luxury and wealth was not even close to being true. But Kestrel watched the faces of those who had been so eager to hear some terrible scandal about their prodigal runaway, and their puckered expressions told him that some of the good citizens of Westhaven were less than thrilled to hear that she was doing well. And the more sour those expressions became, the more Robin embroidered on her deceptions. He didn't think he had ever seen her look quite so smug before.

But while this was all very amusing to her, he was beginning to worry more than a little that she might be digging a hole they both were about to fall into.

'W-we must g-go,' he said, firmly and loudly, before she could make up any more stories, this time out of whole cloth_either about Rune or about their supposed importance to her. Or worse yet, told the whole truth about him! He didn't know what was worse_to have these women believe Robin's tales, or to have them think her a liar.

'Ah,' Robin said blankly as he completely threw her off her course for a moment with his interruption; then she regained her mental balance, and blinked, as if she had suddenly figured out that she might have gone a little too far. 'Of course, you're right! We have a long way to go before we stop tonight.'

She tucked her purchases carefully in her basket and allowed Kestrel to hurry her off.

'What w-were you th-thinking of?' he hissed, as they followed the sausage-woman's stammered directions to the mill.

'I'm not sure,' she said weakly. 'I got kind of carried away.'

He refrained from stating the obvious.

'It was just_those sanctimonious prigs! You saw how they wanted to hear that I had never heard of Rune, that she was a nothing and a failure! I wanted to smack their self-satisfied faces!'

'Y-you d-did that all r-right,' he replied, a little grimly, as they arrived at the mill.

The miller himself was busy, but one of his apprentices handled their purchase of grain for the horses. It took a while; the boy was determined that he was going to give them exact measure. By the time they returned to the wagon, the stalls were deserted, and the women gone from the marketplace.

Kestrel's stomach told him that there was no sinister reason for the empty market _it was suppertime, and these women had to return home to feed their families.

But the silence of the place unnerved him, and for once even Robin didn't have much to say. She unlocked the back of the caravan quickly and stowed her purchases inside; he went to one of the storage bins outside to put the grain away. Suddenly he wanted very much to be out of Westhaven and on the road.

Quickly. He felt eyes on his back; unfriendly eyes. The women might be gone, but they were still watching, from their homes and their kitchens. The sooner he and Robin had Westhaven behind them, the better.

He had put the last of the bags of grain away in the bin and locked the door, when he heard footsteps behind him.

'Hey!' said a nasal, obnoxious male voice. 'What kinda thieves do we have here?'