“Excellent!”
Bayle beamed.
I took a sip, too, and had to agree. It was among the finest wines I had ever tasted, and I had dined at King Elnar's table at more that one occasion. Elnar had fancied himself an expert on wines, though I found his favorite selections ran a little too sweet for my tastes.
“Did I tell you it would be worth the trip?” Dworkin said.
“Not really,” I said. But I quickly added, “It is, though.”
Dworkin drank deeply, let Bayle refill him, then raised his cup in a toast. “To Ben Bayle—always the best!”
I joined in enthusiastically. There were cries of, “Here! Here!” from other patrons.
“Now,” said Dad, leaning forward and dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I need two fast horses.”
Bayle chuckled. “You always do. I'll get them. Anything else?”
“Wine and provisions for three days.”
“Lots of wine,” I added. “This red, if it travels well.”
“Of course it does! My daughters will pack everything up for you. What else?”
Dworkin said, “That will do this time.” He reached under the table, drew out a pouch that I knew he hadn't been carrying a moment before, and slipped it across to Bayle. I heard the clink of coins inside and guessed it held gold. Our host nodded, gave Dworkin a wink, tucked the money away, and headed for the small doorway behind the counter.
“I don't understand,” I said. “Why bother with Bayle? If I understand the way Shadows work, you could get any horses you wanted just by traveling to a place that had them waiting for you.”
“True,” said Dworkin. “But I enjoy coming here, and I am a creature of habit. Also, Ben Bayle is a good man; I like him. I do not have many friends, but he is one.”
“And the wine…”
“That too.”
I had to agree, finishing mine and pouring more. If we ever returned to Juniper and rebuilt, assuming we could deal with the troll problem, we would have to persuade Bayle to join us.
It took nearly an hour for Bayle to get everything ready. I sat impatiently at the corner table, watching those around us, half expecting an army to come rushing through the door at any moment.
No army came, however, and I learned far more about hog breeding than I ever wanted to know from a lively discussion of that topic from the next table.
Dworkin laughed at me quietly.
“What's so funny?” I demanded.
“I will tell you later,” he said.
Bayle finally reappeared at the back door and gave a small jerk of his head for us to join him. He seemed positively conspiratorial. He seemed to enjoy aiding us on our mission—whatever it was—and milked it for all it was worth.
“Our host also runs the local livery stable,” Dworkin whispered
“Quite the entrepreneur,” I said.
He chuckled. “Create nothing but the very best,” he said, “and you will never be disappointed.”
“I don't understand,” I said.
“Do not worry about it. Accept him for what he is, no more or less.”
I puzzled over that. Out back, I discovered Bayle also ran several other businesses, all of which bore his name on the signs over their door: Bayle's Tannery, Bayle's Boots and Saddles, even Bayle's Fine Meats and Slaughterhouse. From the prosperous look of things, he seemed equally adept at all of them.
Now he stood before the stables, next to two boys who looked so much like him that they had to be his sons. They held the reins of two fine black geldings, long of leg with tall arched necks, braided manes, and long silky tails. Mine—I picked him on sight and came around front to let him smell my hands—had a splash of white on his forehead, Dworkin's a pair of white socks on the left. They had already been saddled, with packs and bedrolls tied behind. Several skins, which I assumed held wine, hung from the saddle.
I mounted, and Dworkin did the same.
“Thank you,” he called to Bayle.
The tavern-keeper grinned. “Good luck, and good speed! Come back soon, old friend!” Dworkin waved. We rode.
Chapter 30
It was a ride like no other.
Dworkin rode hard into the forest, leaving the tavern behind. He seemed to draw inspiration from the land around us, and I watched with awe as an outcropping of rock became the toe of a mountain, visible suddenly as we cleared the trees. Snow-capped heights towered, and just ahead, pines trees began to appear, singly, then rising into a forest as we rounded a boulder as big as a house.
The pass through this mountain chain led steadily upward. A winding trail, well traveled but empty at this moment, grew cold, as an icy wind swept down. I pulled the laces of my shirt collar tighter and hunkered down on my horse. The gelding trudged now, head down, breath pluming the air.
Dworkin called back: “Pick up the pace! There's going to be an avalanche!”
I kicked my horse in the ribs twice and got him to a trot. Boulders, tall as two men, blocked the trail, and the path skirted up and around them. As we rounded the second, I heard a deep rumble, like a dog's growl but lower, starting behind us. Turning in my saddle, I watched as the entire top of the mountain slid down to block the pass. No one would be following us through there before the spring melt.
I looked ahead again. Already the landscape had begun to change, as scrub trees and yellowed patches of grass dotted the trail. We headed down now, and the air grew steadily warmer. The sky, touched by fingers of pink and yellow, brightened noticeably.
“Take a drink of wine,” Dworkin said, raising his own wineskin. “Make sure you spill it on your shirt and your horse.” He did just that, splashing it across his own shoulders, then across his mount's head, neck, and haunches.
I did the same, taking a swallow and splashing a good couple of swallows onto my shirt and onto my horse. I did not ask the why of it; I did not want to distract him from the journey before us. That he thought it important enough to tell me to do it told me all I needed to know: somehow, it would prove necessary.
The sky darkened to a deep purple as we entered a wood. In the twilight, strange noises surrounded us, chirps and peeps and a
Then huge dark-winged insects, some as large across as my hand, began to rise in swarms thick enough to blot out the sun. From the way they held their barbed tails, I suspected they were venomous. Yet they did not attack us.
“What are they afraid of?” I asked Dworkin.
“Wine,” he said.
I pitied anyone trying to follow us through here.
We burst into the open, leaving the insects to their wood, and the sudden night sky seemed a carpet overhead, thick velvet studded with diamond stars. Three moons soared, the smaller two gliding quickly, the larger hovering over the treetops like an all-seeing eye.
That thought made me shiver.
Still we rode.
Silvered clouds came up from the east, obscuring the moons, and the temperature began to fall. As wind
