“Brill?” Silk asked. “Who’s Brill?”
Wolf frowned. “A farmhand with too much Angarak gold in his purse to be entirely honest,” he said. Quickly he told Silk and Barak about the adventure in Faldor’s stable.
“You should have killed him,” Barak rumbled.
“This isn’t Cherek,” Wolf said. “Sendars are touchy about casual killings.” He turned to Garion. “Did he see you?” he asked.
“No,” Garion said. “I saw him first and hid in the dark. He met another man and gave him some money, I think. The other man had a sword.” Briefly he described the whole incident.
“This changes things,” Wolf said. “I think we’ll leave earlier in the morning than we’d planned.”
“It wouldn’t be hard to make Brill lose interest in us,” Durnik said. “I could probably find him and hit him on the head a few times.”
“Tempting.” Wolf grinned. “But I think it might be better just to slip out of town early tomorrow and leave him with no notion that we’ve ever been here. We don’t really have time to start fighting with everyone we run across.”
“I’d like a closer look at this sword-carrying Sendar, however,” Silk said, rising. “If it turns out that he’s following us, I’d rather know what he looks like. I don’t like being followed by strangers.”
“Discreetly,” Wolf cautioned.
Silk laughed. “Have you ever known me to be otherwise?” he asked. “This won’t take long. Where did you say that tavern was, Garion?”
Garion gave him directions.
Silk nodded, his eyes bright and his long nose twitching. He turned, went quickly across the smoky common room and out into the chill night.
“I wonder,” Barak considered. “If we’re being followed this closely, wouldn’t it be better to discard the wagons and this tiresome disguise, buy good horses and simply make straight for Muros at a gallop?”
Wolf shook his head. “I don’t think the Murgos are all that certain where we are,” he said. “Brill could be here for some other dishonesty, and we’d be foolish to start running from shadows. Better just to move on quietly. Even if Brill is still working for the Murgos, I’d rather just slip away and leave them all beating the bushes here in central Sendaria.” He stood up. “I’m going to step upstairs and let Pol know what’s happened.” He crossed the common room and mounted the stairs.
“I still don’t like it,” Barak muttered, his face dark.
They sat quietly then, waiting for Silk’s return. The fire popped, and Garion started slightly. It occurred to him as he waited that he had changed a great deal since they’d left Faldor’s farm. Everything had seemed simple then with the world neatly divided into friends and enemies. In the short time since they’d left, however, he’d begun to perceive complexities that he hadn’t imagined before. He’d grown wary and distrustful and listened more frequently to that interior voice that always advised caution if not outright guile. He’d also learned not to accept anything at face value. Briefly he regretted the loss of his former innocence, but the dry voice told him that such regret was childish.
Then Mister Wolf came back down the stairs and rejoined them. After about a half hour Silk returned. “Thoroughly disreputable-looking fellow,” he said, standing in front of the fire. “My guess is that he’s a common footpad.”
“Brill’s seeking his natural level,” Wolf observed. “If he’s still working for the Murgos, he’s probably hiring ruffians to watch for us. They’ll be looking for four people on foot, however, rather than six in wagons. If we can get out of Winold early enough in the morning, I think we can elude them altogether.”
“I think Durnik and I should stand watch tonight,” Barak said.
“Not a bad idea,” Wolf agreed. “Let’s plan to leave about the fourth hour after midnight. I’d like to have two or three leagues of back roads between us and this place when the sun comes up.”
Garion scarcely slept that night; when he did, there were nightmares about a hooded man with a cruel sword chasing him endlessly down dark, narrow streets. When Barak woke them, Garion’s eyes felt sandy, and his head was thick from the exhausting night.
Aunt Pol carefully drew the shutters in their chamber before lighting a single candle. “It’s going to be colder now,” she said, opening the large bundle she’d had him carry up from the wagons. She took out a pair of heavy woolen hose and winter boots lined with lambswool. “Put these on,” she instructed Garion, “and your heavy cloak.”
“I’m not a baby any more, Aunt Pol,” Garion said.
“Do you enjoy being cold?”
“Well, no, but ” He stopped, unable to think of any words to explain how he felt. He began to dress. He could hear the faint murmur of the others talking softly in the adjoining chamber in that curious, hushed tone that men always assume when they rise before the sun.
“We’re ready, Mistress Pol,” Silk’s voice came through the doorway.
“Let’s leave then,” she said, drawing up the hood of her cloak.
The moon had risen late that night and shone brightly on the frostsilvered stones outside the inn. Durnik had hitched the horses to the wagons and had led them out of the stable.
“We’ll lead the horses out to the road,” Wolf said very quietly. “I see no need of rousing the villagers as we pass.”
Silk again took the lead, and they moved slowly out of the innyard. The fields beyond the village were white with frost, and the pale, smoky-looking moonlight seemed to have leeched all color from them.
“As soon as we’re well out of earshot,” Wolf said, climbing up into his wagon, “let’s put some significant distance between us and this place. The wagons are empty, and a little run won’t hurt the horses.”
“Truly,” Silk agreed.
They all mounted their wagons and set off at a walk. The stars glittered overhead in the crisp, cold sky. The fields were very white in the moonlight, and the clumps of trees back from the road very dark.
Just as they went over the first hilltop, Garion looked back at the dark cluster of houses in the valley behind. A single flicker of light came from a window somewhere, a lone, golden pinpoint that appeared and then vanished.
“Someone’s awake back there,” he told Silk. “I just saw a light.”
“Some early riser perhaps,” Silk suggested. “But then again, perhaps not.” He shook the reins slightly, and the horses increased their pace. He shook them again, and they began to trot.
“Hang on, boy,” he instructed, reached forward and slapped the reins down smartly on the rumps of the horses.
The wagon bounced and clattered fearfully behind the running team, and the bitterly chill air rushed at Garion’s face as he clung to the wagon seat.
At full gallop the three wagons plunged down into the next valley, rushing between the frost-white fields in the bright moonlight, leaving the village and its single light far behind.
By the time the sun rose, they had covered a good four leagues, and Silk reined in his steaming horses. Garion felt battered and sore from the wild ride over the iron-hard roads and was glad for the chance to rest. Silk handed him the reins and jumped down from the wagon. He walked back and spoke briefly to Mister Wolf and Aunt Pol, then returned to the wagon.
“We turn off at that lane just ahead,” he told Garion as he massaged his fingers.
Garion offered him the reins.
“You drive,” Silk told him. “My hands are frozen stiff. Just let the horses walk.”
Garion clucked at the horses and shook the reins slightly. Obediently, the team started out again.
“The lane circles around to the back of that hill,” Silk said, pointing with his chin since his hands were tucked inside his tunic. “On the far side there’s a copse of fir trees. We’ll stop there to rest the horses.”
“Do you think we’re being followed?” Garion asked.
“This’ll be a good time to find out,” Silk said.
They rounded the hill and drove on down to where the dark firs bordered the road. Then Garion turned the horses and moved in under the shadowy trees.
“This will do fine,” Silk said, getting down. “Come along.”
“Where are we going?”
“I want to have a look at that road behind us,” Silk said. “We’ll go up through the trees to the top of the hill and see if our back trail has attracted any interest.”
And he started up the hill, moving quite rapidly but making absolutely no sound as he went. Garion floundered along behind him, his feet cracking the dead twigs underfoot embarrassingly until he began to catch the secret of it. Silk nodded approvingly once, but said nothing.
The trees ended just at the crest of the hill, and Silk stopped there. The valley below with the dark road passing through it was empty except for two deer who had come out of the woods on the far side to graze in the frosty grass.