Nightfall doubled back, taking the first steps slowly and quietly, then concentrating more on speed. He found the horses grazing the roadside ditch and clambered onto the bay. He kicked it into a lope, studying the forests with an exaggerated scrutiny. Likely, the highwaymen would not risk the trap Nightfall had detailed for a single purse. If he stayed calm and followed Edward at a cautious distance, they would take him for a member of the hunt.
The ruse brought Nightfall safely past the hidden thieves. He caught up with Edward by midday. Apparently, the prince had stopped his mount to wait for his squire. Sweat sheened the prince’s forehead, and foam bubbled along his horse’s coat. "Ah, there you are, Sudian! Afraid I’d lost you." Edward glanced up the pathway, apparently planning to continue the chase.
Though eager to reach Nemix, Nightfall believed it I wiser to cool his charge’s ire first. A calm, leisurely journey, with no hope of catching criminals or dealing justice, seemed just the trick. "I’m sorry, Master. My horse came up lame." He reined to a full stop, though Edward frowned in irritation. "I pulled a sharp stone from the left forehoof. It’s just a bruise, but it could turn into worse if we keep this pace."
Surely Edward had never cleaned a hoof in his life, yet he had, apparently, learned enough from books and tutors to understand the danger. A single unsound hoof rendered a horse useless. "Do we need to camp?" he asked with obvious reluctance.
"I don’t believe so, Master. I think she’ll do fine at a steady walk." And that still ought to get us to beer and shelter by sunset.
Prince Edward patted his gelding’s withers, drawing back a hand sticky with foam. "They could all use a rest, I suppose. We’ll never catch those thieves now. We’ll just have to ride back and ask the stranger to describe them so we can turn in their descriptions to the constabulary in Nemix."
Turn back? Shocked, Nightfall did not have an immediate reply. The idea of repeating the same trip endlessly became a nagging frustration. The oath-bond had settled back into its regular buzz, and Nightfall dreaded that it might flare again when they rode past the thieves a second time. "Master, I can save us the trip. The stranger told me he didn’t see his attackers. They pulled the cloak over his head too quickly." No such conversation had ensued, but Nightfall suspected he told the truth anyway. “Understandably, he was eager to be on his way. He’s probably halfway home by now."
Edward frowned, glancing back the way they had come. "Perhaps he could describe some item they took from him, something we could watch for."
Nightfall considered the best means to save travel time and to get the matter dropped. Edward’s heroic persistence had already become annoying. He could imagine the prince confronting and questioning every group of five he saw or spending months searching for a fictitious object. "Master, he told me they only took his purse. Three or four silver, he said." Nightfall invented an amount that would entice thieves but would not sound too significant to Edward. "Master, he said he wouldn’t miss the money. He was just shaken by the ambush. They didn`t hurt him."
Prince Edward’s lower lip curled as Nightfall’s "discoveries" strangled his options. “We can’t just let these beasts keep attacking honest people on the road."
Nightfall made no reply. Edward had a cause to champion, and he clung to it the way a dog worries the last meat from a bone. The longer the discussion, the more the problem would grind at the young prince. Left alone to think, surely even he would realize no course remained to follow. Yet when it came to logical thought, Edward seemed the exception. Nightfall had originally believed much of the king’s description of his son was exaggeration; now it seemed more like understatement. No doubt, Prince Edward would plunge them into trouble of a sort Nightfall was more accustomed to creating than solving. Worse, the best plans to rescue them from the situation might fail because Edward seemed inclined to dodge around his own protections and deliberately take on the danger again.
The prince sighed, reining his horse toward Nemix. For now, at least, he seemed to have dropped the affair.
Nightfall would see to it that state of mind became permanent.
Chapter 4
A demon cruel; a monster stark,
Grim moonlight, coldness, deepest dark.
Nightmares come to ones who doze In darkness where old Nightfall goes.
– "The Legend of Nightfall"
Toward evening, clouds scudded across the sky, muting it to steely gray. Prince Edward studied his squire. "Where are you from, Sudian?”
"Alyndar," Nightfall replied easily.
Edward’s brow crinkled. "That’s odd."
Suddenly alert, Nightfall feigned calm. “Hmmm?”
“My father said you were from outside the country. That you knew some of the lands down south."
Thanks, Rikard, real subtle. Give me a history but don’t bother to tell me. "He’s right." Nightfall covered deftly, aside from forgetting the customary "master." "I was raised in Mitano, but I was born in Alyndar." It was a lie. Nightfall’s mother had worked and borne him in Keevain, and he had lived his early childhood there. But he had enough knowledge of the other countries and cities to claim a youth in any of them.
"Oh." Prince Edward fingered the tightening scab on his face. Pinched creases appeared around his eyes. "That’s slave land." His voice filled with accusation. "Did you ever keep slaves?”
Despite his composure, the question took Nightfall aback. "Me? Keep slaves? I was lucky not to be one." He regained his respectful demeanor. Not wanting to talk about a past he would rather forget, Nightfall channeled the questions back toward subjects he knew Edward could not resist. Restoring Edward’s attention to vast and vague principles would also direct him away from chasing unidentified highwaymen. “Master, I understand that slavery is cruel. Forgive the question, but why do you hold this cause so important?" Nightfall watched trees glide past on either side of the dusty roadway, knowing the threatening rain would soon turn the path to mud.
"Alyndar doesn’t have slavery. And, surely, you’ve never been kept."
Prince Edward grimaced, pale eyes blazing. “Anyone can champion a cause that’s hurt him in the past or one that makes his own life richer or easier." His gelding snagged a leafy branch, tearing it free. The wood swung from its mouth as it chewed. "Every time my father makes a law or proposal, every noble has to consider how it will help him, forgetting that the Father and the lesser gods want us to help one another the way He helps us all." Edward leaned across the horse’s neck and untangled the limb from its bit. “Every life has equal value in the gods’ eyes. There are no commoners on a baron’s council. Who would speak for the slaves if I didn’t‘?"
"I don’t know, Master." Nightfall had to admit that Prince Edward had a point, albeit a childishly uninformed one. Beaten and worked, yes. But, at least, the slaves get fed, clothed, and sheltered. Let free, they’d starve or die at the hands of stranger survivors on the streets.
The clouds bunched tighter, blotting evening into shadow.
"Holy beard of the Father!" Edward drew up his gelding.
Nightfall had never heard Edward blaspheme before. Alarmed, he followed the prince’s gaze to the chestnut packhorse. "What’s wrong, Master?"
"The spade." Edward clambered down from his saddle and headed for the packhorse. "The spade is missing.”