had thought he would have to be led, but he made his walking staff his guide. Sometimes he did walk with a hand on Honey’s or Piper’s shoulder, but it seemed more companionship than necessity. Nor was our journey boring, for as we walked he lectured, mostly to Piper, on the history of this region, and surprised me with the depth of his knowledge. We stopped for a bit when the sun was high and they shared with me the simple food they had. I felt uncomfortable taking it, yet there was no way I could excuse myself to go hunt with the wolf. Once the town was well behind us, I had sensed Nighteyes shadowing us. It was comforting to have him near, but I wished it were just he and I travelling together. Several times that day we were passed by other travellers, on horses or mules. Through gaps in the trees we occasionally glimpsed boats beating their way upriver against the current. As the morning passed, well-guarded carts and wagons overtook us. Each time Josh called out to ask if we might ride on the wagons. Twice we were politely refused. The others answered not at all. They moved hurriedly, and one group had several surly-looking men in a common livery that I surmised were hired guards.
We walked the afternoon away to the reciting of ‘Crossfire’s Sacrifice’, the long poem about Queen Vision’s coterie and how they laid down their lives that she might win a crucial battle. I had heard it before, several times, in Buckkeep. But by the end of the day, I had heard it two score times, as Josh worked with infinite patience to be sure that Piper sang it perfectly. I was grateful for the endless recitations, for it prevented talk.
But despite our steady pace, the falling of evening still found us far short of the next river town. I saw them all become uneasy as the light began to fail. Finally, I took command of the situation and told them we must leave the road at the next stream we crossed, and find a place to settle for the evening. Honey and Piper fell back behind Josh and me, and I could hear them muttering worriedly to one another. I could not reassure them, as Nighteyes had me, that there was not even a sniff of another traveller about. Instead, at the next crossing I guided them upstream and found a sheltered bank beneath a cedar tree where we might rest for the night.
I left them on the pretence of relieving myself, to spend time with Nighteyes assuring him all was well. It was time well spent, for he had discovered a place where the swirling creek water undercut the bank. He watched me intently as I lay on my belly and eased my hands into the water, and then slowly through the curtain of weeds that overhung it. I got a fine fat fish on my first try. Several minutes later, another effort yielded me a smaller fish. When I gave up, it was almost full dark, but I had three fish to take back to camp, leaving two, against my better judgment, for Nighteyes.
Fishing and ear scratching. The two reasons men were given hands, he told me genially as he settled down with them. He had already gulped down the entrails from mine as fast as I had cleaned them.
Watch out for bones, I warned him yet again.
My mother raised me on a salmon run, he pointed out. Fish bones don’t bother me.
I left him shearing through the fish with obvious relish and returned to camp. The minstrels had a small fire burning. At the sound of my footsteps, all three leaped to their feet brandishing their walking staffs. ‘It’s me!’ I told them belatedly.
‘Thank Eda,’ Josh sighed as he sat down heavily, but Honey only glared at me.
‘You were gone a long time,’ Piper said by way of explanation. I held up the fish threaded through the gills onto a willow stick.
‘I found dinner,’ I told them. ‘Fish,’ I added, for Josh’s benefit.
‘Sounds wonderful,’ he said.
Honey took out waybread and a small sack of salt as I found a large flat stone and wedged it into the embers of the fire. I wrapped the fish in leaves and set them on the stone to bake. The smell of the cooking fish tantalized me even as I hoped it would not draw any Forged ones to our campfire.
I’m keeping watch still, Nighteyes reminded me, and I thanked him.
As I watched over the cooking fish, Piper muttered ‘Crossfire’s Sacrifice’ to herself at my elbow.
‘Hist the halt, and Cleave the blind,’ I corrected her distractedly as I tried to turn the fish over without breaking it.
‘I had it right!’ she contradicted me indignantly.
‘I’m afraid you did not, my lass. Cob is correct. Hist was the clubfoot and Cleave was blind from birth. Can you name the other five, Cob?’ He sounded just like Fedwren hearing a lesson.
I had burned my finger on a coal and I stuck it in my mouth before answering. ‘Burnt Crossfire led, and those around – were like him, not of body sound, but strong of heart. And true of soul. And herein let me count their roll – for you. ’Twas Hist the halt, and Cleave the blind, and Kevin of the wandering mind, hare-lipped Joiner, Sever was deaf, and Porter, who the foe men left – for dead, without his hands or eyes. And if you think you would despise such ones as these, then let me say …’
‘Whoa!’ Josh exclaimed with pleasure, and then asked, ‘Had you bard’s training, Cob, when you were small? You’ve caught the phrasing as well as the words. Though you make your pauses a bit too plain.’
‘I? No. I’ve always had a quick memory, though.’ It was hard not to smile at his praise of me, even though Honey sneered and shook her head at it.
‘Could you recite the whole thing, do you think?’ Josh asked challengingly.
‘Perhaps,’ I hedged. I knew I could. Both Burrich and Chade had drilled my memory skills often. And I’d heard it so often today I could not drive it from my head.
‘Try it then. But not spoken. Sing it.’
‘I have no voice for singing.’
‘If you can speak, you can sing. Try it. Indulge an old man.’
Perhaps obeying old men was simply too deep a habit with me for me to defy it. Perhaps it was the look on Honey’s face that told me plainly she doubted I could do it.
I cleared my throat and began it, singing softly until he gestured at me to raise my voice. He nodded his head as I worked my way through it, wincing now and then when I soured a note. I was about halfway through when Honey observed drily, ‘The fish is burning.’
I dropped the song and sprang to poke stone and wrapped fish from the fire. The tails were scorched, but the rest was fine, steaming and firm. We portioned it out and I ate too rapidly. Twice as much would not have filled me, and yet I must be content with what I had. The waybread tasted surprisingly good with the fish, and afterwards Piper made a kettle of tea for us. We settled on our blankets about the fire.
‘Cob, do you do well as a scribe?’ Josh suddenly asked me.
I made a deprecating sound. ‘Not as well as I’d like. But I get by.’
‘Not as well as he’d like,’ Honey muttered to Piper in mocking imitation.
Harper Josh ignored her. ‘You’re old for it, but you could be taught to sing. Your voice is not so bad; you sing like a boy, not knowing you’ve a man’s depth of voice and lungs to call on now. Your memory is excellent. Do you play any instruments?’
‘The sea-pipes. But not well.’
‘I could teach you to play them well. If you took up with us …’
‘Father! We scarcely know him!’ Honey objected.
‘I could have said the same to you when you left the loft last night,’ he observed to her mildly.
‘Father, all we did was talk.’ She flashed a look at me, as if I had betrayed her. My tongue had turned to leather in my mouth.
‘I know,’ Josh agreed. ‘Blindness seems to have sharpened my hearing. But if you have judged him someone safe to talk to, alone, at night, then perhaps I have judged him someone safe to offer our company to as well. What say you, Cob?’
I shook my head slowly, then, ‘No,’ I said aloud.