Demon Rider

'But there isn't any other road to Barcelona.'

'You don't have to go to Barcelona!'

'I want to go to Barcelona.'

'Idiot!' Hamish shouted. He had lost his temper now and sounded just like his father. 'Turn back and join Johnson's party. We can catch up to them. We could be useful as guides. They'll let us go south with them.'

'I got to Barcelona twice in three tries. Or will get.'

'Oh, you stupid lunk! You don't know what was different about the third time. I think I do, though. I think it's the don and the others.'

'Take me through this one slowly.'

'If I go any slower I'll grow roots. Something was different the third time, some choice or chance event. I think the first two times we didn't join the don and his party. We went on by ourselves, with or without Gracia.'

'But I knew the don when I cut his head off.'

Hamish scowled harder than ever and then conceded that much. 'So you'd met him. That doesn't mean you traveled with him. I was really surprised when you agreed to. You never accept a master unless you absolutely have to. Why did you?'

'Hmm. I'm not sure.' But Toby was beginning to see where the logic was leading him, and he didn't like it. It was as ominously familiar as the scenery.

'Was it because you'd just seen yourself cutting off his head?'

'Maybe.'

Hamish said, 'Yes it was! It made you curious. But you couldn't have seen that the first two times, because it hadn't happened yet. So that was what was different the third time — you became Ramon's campeador, and when we got to Tortosa someone in this group betrayed you to the Inquisition. Now you're following that same route again.'

'You don't know that. You're guessing.' But it was a nastily convincing theory — Toby had surprised even himself when he'd kissed the don's hand. Now he'd promised to confide in him. Fortunately Hamish didn't know that yet. 'If Oreste has set the Inquisition on me and given them that poster, they don't need informers.'

'You and me could slip by on our own. We could swim the river if we had to. Probably that's what we did the first two times.'

'We still can, I suppose. Join up again on the other side.'

'And how do you explain that to Senora Collel? If inquisitors start questioning her, she's liable to accuse everyone of every sort of hexing ever imagined. If you've disappeared, she'll suspect the worst and set the dogs on you for certain.'

Toby couldn't fault the logic, but it wasn't convincing him. He wasn't going to turn back. He was going on to Barcelona. Just brute stubbornness, maybe — he had said he would, so he would — or a show of courage, like shaking his head at the tormentors to prove to himself that he wasn't broken yet. Perhaps Hamish was right and the hob had driven him crazy, for what sane man would risk the Inquisition?

'I'll ask Brother Bernat's advice,' he said. 'I suggested to the don that we scout ahead before we advance in force.'

'Force?' Hamish sneered. 'He'll call for bombardment with cannon followed by a cavalry charge. Then ask your clever friend why your visions are so appropriate.'

'Huh?'

The teacher's son was smirking again. 'How many days were you in the hands of the Inquisition?'

Toby shrugged and winced at the results. 'No way of telling. I have clear memories of an hour or two in the torture chamber, but Bernat thinks they might have worked on me for longer than that.' Until they killed him. 'And I can remember remembering a few days earlier — being questioned, being shut up in a stinking little cell.'

'I could smell it on you when you came back. I still can. So why did the hob pick that particular hour or two? Why didn't you have a vision of the time you were shut up in the cell instead? The same with Barcelona. The hob is very choosy in what it lets you remember, isn't it?'

To that, also, Toby had no answer. Everything Hamish said made sense, even when he went on to call him a brainless mule, a goat butting an oak tree, and several other things less complimentary.

'We'll talk about it tonight,' he promised, and set off up the line again.

Miguel and Rafael and the two Elinors were in even worse spirits than usual, taking their spite out on Thunderbolt with unnecessary whacks. Toby tried his faltering Catalan on them to find out why.

Rafael said, 'Where is everybody?' He gestured at the valley they were traversing. Sierra del Montsia was steep and wooded, but Sierra Grossa displayed a gentle and obviously fertile slope. Although houses had been burned, the overall damage was much less conspicuous than it had been farther south. 'You said the war was all gone from here. Why have the people not returned?' He glowered with deep suspicion.

Toby had been wondering the same and had no answer.

He went on to converse with the women, and the first he came to was Gracia, strolling along by herself but apparently happy in her daydreams. When she noticed him walking at her side, her contentment turned to doubt.

'You are recovered from your misadventure, senor?'

'A little bruised still. A guard with two left feet is not a convincing guardian, I am afraid.'

'Don Ramon would never do such a thing.'

'No, I'm sure he wouldn't.'

She sighed blissfully. 'He is wonderful, is he not? So handsome, so strong! My voices are very happy that he has taken me under his protection.'

'You have told him about your voices?'

'Oh yes! He says it is a sign that I am especially favored by the spirits, a tribute to the purity of my soul.'

The don's motives in saying so cast doubt on the purity of his own soul, Toby decided, and then wondered if he was merely jealous. Of course he was jealous! The Gracias of the world were forever forbidden to him, but he should not grudge her this romantic delusion, however brief it might turn out to be. It was better than brooding about ghosts. Leaving the lady to her fantasies of noble romance, he went on to the horsewomen. High on her perch, Eulalia ignored him conspicuously. Senora Collel regarded him with open suspicion.

'How exactly did Brother Bernat heal you, Campeador?'

'He did almost nothing, senora,' he said, remembering Hamish's perceptive prediction about her gossiping to the Inquisition. 'I was dazed from striking my head, and from that I recovered by myself. I had also sprained my shoulder. He is skilled in massage. That is all. I should not be so clumsy.'

'Senor Campbell is not at all clumsy!' Eulalia said loftily.

'You should know, child!' snapped the senora.

Toby found the remark exceedingly humorous and bellowed with laughter. When he saw that the slut was blushing, he realized that he was being jealous again, and spiteful as well. He escaped from the presence of the formidable pair as soon as he decently could. He had never understood women, and according to Brother Bernat he could never hope to.

Next in line were the Brusi packhorses, with Josep leading them while chatting with Father Guillem. The stringy, unassertive youth and massive, forceful cleric were an odd but fortunate pairing for a necessary discussion:

'Father, Josep, may we have a word about provisions? The mercenaries inform us that there is food to be bought in Tortosa.'

'As I am excessively tired of horseflesh,' the monk declaimed in his rumbling voice, 'that is good news. Brother Bernat carries no money, of course, but I shall provide for him and the child.'

Josep caught Toby's eye briefly and looked away with a quiet smile. 'I expect the prices will be exorbitant. Would an advance upon your fee come in useful, Campeador?'

'Very much so, senor. And while I should never dare inquire, I suspect the don may also be running a little low on ready cash.'

'That would not surprise me.'

As a person, the boy was twice the man his father had been. Whether he could be ruthless enough to run