disadvantages into advantages, like turning hecklers into part of the act.”
“So. .?”
Pipper began easing back down the wall.
Binkton followed, and when he reached the ground beside Pipper, again he asked, “So. .?”
“So, bucco, we’ll turn those hecklers into part of the act.”
“What in blue blazes are you talking about?”
“Well, Bink,” said Pipper, grinning, “I know where we can get a couple of chickens.” And he started along the alley.
Binkton momentarily stood still, but then as enlightenment dawned, he murmured, “Oh, I see. For a bit there I thought this might be another one of Pip’s harebrained schemes, but I think it might actually work.” Binkton hurried after his cousin. As he caught up, they looked at one another in the moonlight and smiled, on the verge of laughter. They’d get Lady Jane’s money back if it took all night.
And as they strode on down the twisting way, Pipper fell into reflection. It was but some two and a half years ago-in early autumn, 6E6, to be exact-that they were on their way to make their fortune, and he wondered just how two buccen Warrows had ever managed to get from that beginning to this end, to this unseemly business of burglary. .
24
BOSKYDELLS
EARLY AUTUMN, 6E6
As the Red Coach rumbled along the Crossland Road and into the outskirts of Rood, “Here she comes,” said Granduncle Arley, the eld buccan sitting on the bench of the pony cart beside his once-removed nephews.
With anxiety lurking in the back of his sapphire blue eyes, Pipper looked at Binkton, as if asking, I know it was my idea, but do we really want to do this?
Binkton threw an arm around Pipper’s shoulders and said, “It’s just to Junction, Pip. I mean, if we find it not to our liking, and even if we don’t have the fare for the Red Coach back, at worst we can always hike home.”
“But I’ve never been outside the Bosky before.”
“Wull, neither have I, bucco. But, hey, wasn’t it you who said, ‘Let’s take this show on the road’?”
“Yes, but I’m beginning to have second thoughts.”
“Well, put them out of your mind, Pip,” said Binkton, a glint of fire in his viridian gaze. “After all, we have the blood of heroes running through our veins. Remember, Beau Darby is one of our ancestors.”
“Be that as it may, Bink, I’m thinking that after five thousand years, Darby blood is beginning to run mighty thin.”
Uncle Arley laughed but said nought.
“Oh, Pip,” said Binkton, “it’ll be fun.”
Pipper looked over at the eld buccan who had accompanied them into the Centerdell village. “Will it be fun, Uncle?”
“It was for me, back in the day,” said Arley.
The Red Coach pulled up in front of the way station, and Humans got out to stretch their legs and to relieve themselves and to have a drink and a bite to eat. As Warrows led fresh horses out from the stables to replace the team, the driver and one of his three footmen made ready for the exchange.
As to the passengers and coachmen, these were not the first Humans that Pipper and Binkton had seen, for the Red Coach regularly came through the Bosky, and Rood was a transfer point. Out from the town and to the northeast the Two Fords Road led toward Challerain Keep, and to the southeast the Tineway ran toward Caer Pendwyr, while due east the Crossland Road continued on to Stonehill and past. Back to the west lay the lands of Wellen and the realms beyond.
Even so, the sight of Humans was somewhat intimidating, being as they were nearly twice the height of the average Warrow. And Binkton and Pipper would be travelling with these tall beings, for at the request of Graden Finster, owner of the Black Dog Inn, these two buccen were heading southeasterly and beyond the Thornwall to the small town of Junction, there where the Tineway met the Post Road.
Noting the hesitance of Pipper, Uncle Arley said, “Pip, I’ve taught you and Bink all I know, and you’ll be a welcome sight to the onlookers, whether it be on the streets of a city or in an inn or on the stage of a theater. Seldom do Warrows show up in the cities, and so, if for no other reason, you two will be a novelty, just as I was. Why, I’ve performed in Hovenkeep and Rivers End and even Caer Pendwyr, as well as little hamlets and villages throughout much of the High King’s realms. Yet should your and Bink’s acts fail, Bink is a fine locksmith and you a tinker rare. If nothing else, you two can travel through the countryside, mending pots, sharpening scissors and knives, fixing lockboxes, and whatever else needs doing, and you have my old kit for such. Pip, you and Bink will be fine, and there’s a world out there awaiting. And the Black Dog will give you a small taste of what you’ll discover beyond the limits of the Barrier.”
Pipper sighed and said, “Well, I suppose you are right. I mean, folks in the Bosky seemed to like us, and perhaps those Outside will too.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Binkton, looking ’round at the two duffle bags and large case on the bed of the pony cart, the case iron gray with painted red and yellow and orange flames here and there licking up along its sides. “Now let’s get our things onto the coach.”
With a cluck of his tongue, Arley drove the two-wheeled carriage to the side of the Red Coach, and there one of the footmen tossed the young buccen’s duffles up to the man atop. But when the footman lifted the chest, he grunted in surprise and in a strained voice as he hoisted it up he called to the man atop, “Take care, Willam. I think this is filled to the brim with sheet iron.”
Pipper laughed and said, “Not iron, but chains and locks, ropes and pulleys and other such tackle, along with mending gear.” The footman looked at the Warrows and frowned in puzzlement, as if wondering what such equipment was for.
The coach remained awhile to allow the continuing passengers to take care of their needs, and the new passengers to lade their luggage atop, but finally the driver called for all to get aboard. With final hugs from Uncle Arley, both Warrows passed in among the Humans, who simply towered over the wee buccen-dark-haired Binkton standing three-feet-six, fair-haired Pipper three-feet-four-and they climbed into the coach and took seat.
“H’yup, h’yup,” cried the coachman, “hup, my boys,” and with the eight horses pulling, slowly the great stage got under way. It rumbled southeasterly out of Rood along the road to Tine Ford.
The Red Coach itself was huge, and divided by a partition into two sections, with seating for eighteen passengers. And Pipper and Binkton found themselves in the aft half and sitting in between two large men, with two more men and a matronly woman across from them. The woman, her dress seemingly mostly ruffles and bows, leaned forward and said, “Why, aren’t you two just the cutest of things?”
Binkton sighed, but Pipper said, “Why, yes, madam, yes, we are.”
Batting her eyes, the matron asked, “And just what would you two children be doing travelling all alone in the great wide world?”
“Ch-children?” sputtered Binkton. “Children? Madam, I’ll have you know my cousin here is a young buccan, just turned twenty summers of age, while I am his senior by three moons or so.”
“Twenty?” she exclaimed, taken aback. “Twenty, you say?”
“These are Warrows,” said the man to the buccen’s left. “Heroes of the War of the Ban, the Winter War, and the Battle of Kraggen-cor, and they served with distinction in the Dragonstone War.”
The lady’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, my, you did all that?”
“Well, not us personally,” said Pipper. “But our cousin Trissa Buckthorn served under two High Kings-Garon and then his son Ryon-during the War of the Dragonstone, to say nothing of our ancestor Beau Darby, who fought beside High King Blaine in the Great War of the Ban.”
