The Tilth man drew himself up straight. “This man, and one of your stable hands, interfered when we came to get our stock from the stables!” he declared haughtily.
“Cliff isn’t Tilth stock. He was foaled right here at Buckkeep. Six years ago. I was present at the time,” I pointed out.
The man gave me a condescending look. “I was not speaking to you. I was speaking to him.” He jerked a thumb at Hands.
“I have a name, sir,” Hands pointed out coldly. “Hands. I’m acting as stablemaster while Burrich is gone with king-in-waiting Verity. He has a name, too. FitzChivalry. He assists me from time to time. He belongs in my stable. As does my stable boy, and my horse. As to you, if you have a name, I haven’t been told it. I know of no reason why you should be in my stable.”
Burrich had taught Hands well. We exchanged a glance. In accord, we turned our backs and began to go back into the stables.
“I am Lance, a stable man for Duke Ram. That horse was sold to my duke. And not just him. Two spotted mares, and a gelding as well. I have the papers here.”
As we turned back slowly the Tilth man proffered a scroll. My heart lurched at the sight of a blob of red wax with the buck sign mashed into it. It looked real. Hands took it slowly. He gave me a sideways glance, and I moved to stand beside him. He had some letters, but reading was usually a lengthy business for him. Burrich had been working on it with him, but letters did not come easily to him. I looked over his shoulder as he unrolled the scroll and began to study it.