He returned with my rolls and stew. Off to the side was a single that was filled with cots, as was customary. Everyone would sleep in the same room. “If I stay the night, will there be others?”
“Just those two over there, so far. Be right back with your wine.”
Waiting for them to depart wouldn’t work. My magic couldn’t make them sleepy, at least not my small magic. However, it could make them think they were, so the result was the same. Most likely, they had traveled all day and were already tired, so my magic was only a slight enhancement. I yawned. They followed suit.
The stew was good.
I yawned again.
The innkeeper stopped by to see what else I needed. “Grab yourself a mug of wine or ale, on me. Then, let’s discuss some business.”
Their heads were bobbing. To their credit, they fought against the magic, but when one nearly placed his face in his bowl, he stood and stumbled to the common sleeping room. A moment later, the other did too.
Some might think I would have reservations or recriminations, but that is not the case. The two men were overly tired and would awake to feel far better than if they stayed up half the night waiting for the opportunity to steal from me. To my way of thinking, making them sleepy did them a favor without demanding or expecting any thanks for my good deed. That makes me a good person, some might say.
The innkeeper returned as I tried to break the crust on my roll that was supposed to only be two days old. Tapping it on the table top didn’t work, then pounding harder to break through the crust failed. My knife couldn’t cut it.
The innkeeper said in a helpful tone, “Soak it in your stew for a while.”
He handed me a wooden spoon. I used it after wiping it clean on my shirt. The stew was good. Very good. The spices were new to me, they made my mouth tingle, and I eagerly scooped more. The hard roll absorbed gravy and while chewy, tasted wonderful.
“You wanted to talk to me?” he asked.
“I need some horses.” Sometimes being direct is the best way to approach a subject, but I kept my voice soft to avoid being overheard by someone unseen, a nearly impossible task in a public inn.
“Only got one horse I might let go.”
And that showed that sometimes being direct is not always the best way. I nudged his mind slightly since and suspected he had more than one he’d let go. Probably all six were for sale at the right price. He was a horse trader by vocation and would take full advantage and enjoy every bit of the process. I bore down. “Only one?”
“It’s a good horse.”
And if asked by another to judge them, I’d believe the other five were better, and he’d try to unload the poorest of the lot on me. He was skillful, and my magic only able to perform small units of persuasion. A full mage might be required to deal with the man dealing with me if he expected to come out ahead. “Ever seen that man who was with me before?”
“Tater?”
“His family lives just up the road. He’s chasing after his nephews at first light to see if they will sell us a few good horses, and he’s certain they will. Family comes first with Tater, but there were six in your barn, and I would like to save him that trip.”
The innkeeper seemed to deflate. I pushed harder, “Listen, don’t worry about it, we’re not in a hurry and Tater’s family can use the extra money, plus he says they have some good stock for our trip.”
“Mostly old swaybacks,” the innkeeper grumbled. “How many are you looking for?”
“Three,” I told him, planning to use the fourth to bargain with later.
“I can sell you maybe three and save him a trip just ’cause Tater’s been a good customer. He brings me a fair amount of business.”
Pushing my chair back, I said, “Well, I’d have to see them first, but really, I shouldn’t have come and asked. Tater won’t be too happy with me for this.”
In the pole barn, he pointed out the three worst of the six. The other three were better, and we also required saddles and tack. I showed him a few coins. Finally, he convinced me to buy the three we wanted. After a touch of my magic to improve his generosity, he also included a fourth horse because he was “losing so much on the deal,” which made no sense to anyone but him. After I resisted at first, he whined and complained until he got his way and understood he would no longer have to care for or feed the horses we took off his hands. He would be saving money. He grumbled the entire time we got the horses ready, and I considered allowing him to give me something else so he would feel even better.
Tomorrow, he’d tell anyone who would listen how he’d fleeced me. Oh well, in the future I’d have to be more careful and learn to horse-trade. Still, it had been fun, and if he had stuck with what the horses and saddles were really worth, it would have cost me more. Small magic is a great bargaining tool.
The bridles of each were tied to the saddle of another horse, and I mounted the first. They followed in a line, four horses that would never grace the royal stables, but seemed strong and able to walk all day, eat the local grass at night, and do the same again the next day. The cost should have been twice what we paid.
Long before I reached camp, Springer greeted me with his yapping that refused to stop until Kendra fed him again. We couldn’t complain. That yapping was why we brought him, and nobody was going to sneak up on us. The women were sleeping under the carriage, using it for a tent with blankets draped down the sides. I crawled beside them where they had spread another blanket for me and went to sleep.
Tater returned during the night with one nephew. I only knew because Springer warned us when he was still way out on the main road. He yapped until Tater and his nephew arrived. They bedded down on the other side of the meadow.
Before I knew it, Elizabeth shook me awake. “Sunup.”
It was not. The sky to the east was perhaps lighter, but not even pink. All the stars were still out. However, she was always right. We woke the others. It was only the matter of a few moments until we had the two extra packhorses ready to travel. Tater and his nephew discussed the route we would take. His nephew would take the carriage, and he gave him a few coins in case he needed anything and to pay for feed.
Tater said to us, “We’ll use the road this morning, then head off on a little-used trail for the hills.”
“What if Lord Kent and Princes Anna sleep late and we catch up with them?” Kendra asked.
Elizabeth said, “Then we will ride on right past them, and we will not need Tater’s shortcut, but don’t count on that.”
“It won’t happen, will it?” My question was really a statement, and one I should have kept to myself because it almost repeated what she had said.
“Of course not. After seeing you, they probably rode well into the night, pushing their horses to the limit. Right now, my wager would be that they are also awake and preparing to ride hard all day to remain ahead of us.”
She was right. What I didn’t know was why they would do it? What was so important that they risked Princess Elizabeth’s ire to arrive before us? Princess Anna had made Elizabeth angry once already. Doing it a second time was ignorant.
CHAPTER NINE
I rode in the early morning chill on Tater’s left, a poor choice I soon regretted. That was the direction he spat most of the time. Telling him or asking him to spit in another direction wouldn’t break a lifetime of a bad habit, so I kept quiet. Each time he raised his head and made a disgusting gurgling sound, I prepared my magic to intercept or interfere with the path it was to take. By the time the sun warmed the morning air, he’d spat on his foot, the horse's leg, the ground, and once, with a little help from my magic, he’d hit a rabbit that darted across the road in front of us.