‘I am afraid not.’
‘Herded cattle?’
‘Sadly, no.’
‘Handled horses?’
‘One at a time?’
‘Experience in combat?’ grated Savian.
‘Very little, and that far more than I’d like.’ He feared this interview was not showing him in his best light, if there was such a thing. ‘But… I am determined to start fresh, to earn my place, to work as hard as any man—or woman—here and… keen to learn,’ he finished, wondering if so many exaggerations had ever been worked into one sentence.
‘I wish you every success with your education,’ said Majud, ‘but passengers pay one hundred and fifty marks.’
A brief silence as they all, particularly Temple, considered the likelihood of his producing such a sum. Then he patted at his wet trouser-pockets. ‘I find myself a little short.’
‘How short?’
‘One hundred and fifty marks-ish?’
‘You let us join for nothing and I reckon you’re getting your money’s worth,’ said Shy.
‘Sweet made that deal.’ Majud ran an appraising eye over Temple and he found himself trying to hide his bare foot behind the other. Without success. ‘And you at least brought two boots apiece. This one will need clothes, and footwear, and a mount. We simply cannot afford to take in every stray that happens across our path.’
Temple blinked, not entirely sure where this left him.
‘Where does that leave him?’ asked Shy.
‘Waiting at the ford for a Fellowship with different requirements.’
‘Or another set of Ghosts, I guess?’
Majud spread his hands. ‘If it were up to me I would not hesitate before helping you, but I have the feelings of my partner Curnsbick to consider, and he has a heart of iron where business is concerned. I am sorry.’ He did look a little sorry. But he did not look like he would be changing his mind.
Shy glanced sideways at Temple. All he could do was stare back as earnestly as possible.
‘Shit.’ She planted her hands on her hips and shook her head at the sky for a moment, then curled back her top lip to show a noticeable gap between her front teeth and neatly spat through it. ‘I’ll buy him in, then.’
‘Really?’ asked Majud, brows going up.
‘Really?’ asked Temple, no less shocked.
‘That’s right,’ she snapped. ‘You want the money now?’
‘Oh, don’t trouble yourself.’ Majud had the trace of a smile about his lips. ‘I know your touch with figures.’
‘I don’t like this.’ Savian propped the heel of his hand on the grip of one of his knives. ‘This bastard could be anyone.’
‘So could you,’ said Shy. ‘I’ve no notion what you were doing last month, or what you’ll get to next, and for a fact it’s none o’ my business. I’m paying, he’s staying. You don’t like it, you can float off downriver, how’s that?’ She glared right into Savian’s stony face all the while and Temple found he was liking her more and more.
Savian pursed his thin lips a fraction. ‘Got anything to say about this, Lamb?’
The old Northman looked slowly from Temple to Shy and back. It appeared he did nothing quickly. ‘I reckon everyone should get a chance,’ he said.
‘Even those don’t deserve it?’
‘Especially them, maybe.’
‘You can trust me,’ said Temple, treating the old men to his most earnest look. ‘I won’t let you down, I promise.’ He had left a trail of broken promises across half the Circle of the World, after all. One extra would hardly keep him out of heaven.
‘You saying so don’t necessarily make it so, does it?’ Savian leaned forward, narrowing his eyes even further, a feat that might have been considered impossible but a moment before. ‘I’m watching you, boy.’
‘That is… a tremendous comfort,’ squeaked Temple as he backed slowly away. Shy had already turned on her heel and he hurried to catch her up.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Truly. I’m not sure what I can do to repay you.’
‘Repay me.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Yes. Of course.’
‘With one-quarter interest. I ain’t no charity.’
Now he was liking her less. ‘I begin to see that. Principal plus a quarter. Far more than fair. I always pay my debts.’ Except, perhaps, the financial ones.
‘Is it true you’re keen to learn?’
He was keener to forget. ‘I am.’
‘And to work as hard as any man here?’
Judging by the dustiness, sweatiness, sunburn and generally ruined appearance of most of the men, that claim seemed now rather rash. ‘Yes?’
‘Good, ’cause I’ll work you, don’t worry on that score.’
He was worrying on several scores, but the lack of hard labour had not been among them. ‘I can… hardly wait to start.’ He was getting the distinct sensation that he had whisked his neck from one noose only to have another whipped tight around it. Looked at with the benefit of hindsight, his life, which at the time had felt like a series of ingenious escapes, resembled rather more closely a succession of nooses, most of them self-tied. The self-tied ones will still hang you, though.
Shy was busy kneading at her injured arm and planning strategy. ‘Might be Hedges has some clothes’ll fit. Gentili’s got an old saddle will serve and Buckhorm’s got a mule I believe he’d sell.’
‘A mule?’
‘If that’s too fucking lowly you can always walk to Crease.’
Temple thought it unlikely he would make it as far as the mule on foot, so he smiled through the pain and consoled himself with the thought that he would repay her. For the indignity, if not the money.
‘I shall feel grateful for every moment spent astride the noble beast,’ he forced out.
‘You should feel grateful,’ she snapped.
‘I will,’ he snapped back.
‘Good,’ she said.
‘Good.’
A pause. ‘Good.’
Reasons
‘Some country, ain’t it?’
‘Looks like quite a bloody lot of country to me,’ said Leef.
Sweet spread his arms and pulled in such a breath you’d have thought he could suck the whole world through his nose. ‘It’s the Far Country, true enough! Far ’cause it’s so damn far from anywhere a civilised man would care to go. And Far ’cause it’s so damn far from here to anywhere else he’d want to go.’
‘Far ’cause it’s so damn far to anything at all,’ said Shy, staring out across that blank expanse of grass, gently shifting with the wind. A long, long way off, so pale they might’ve been no more’n wishes, the grey outline of hills.
‘But damn civilised men, eh, Lamb?’
Lamb raised a mild eyebrow. ‘We can’t just let ’em be?’
‘Maybe even borrow some hot water off ’em once in a while,’ muttered Shy, scratching at her armpit. She’d a fair few passengers along for the ride now, not to mention dust crusted to every bit of her and her teeth tasting of salt dirt and dry death.
