“Of course,” Laudwine agreed, but I saw several scowling faces in the crowd behind him. Malta was a fine horse, a rich prize for whoever had captured Lord Golden.
“Then we shall go. Tom, I shall expect you to follow immediately.”
“Of course, master,” I humbly lied.
“With the Prince.”
“I shall not leave until he precedes me,” I promised heartily.
“Excellent,” Lord Golden confirmed. He nodded to me, but the Fool's eyes shot me a troubled glance. The look he turned on Laudwine was chill. “You have treated me no better than common ruffians and highwaymen would have. I will be unable to conceal my condition from the Queen and her guard companies. You are fortunate indeed that Tom Badgerlock and I are willing to confirm to her that you have seen the error of your ways. Otherwise, I am sure she would send her troops to hunt you down like vermin.”
He was perfection as the affronted nobleman, yet I nearly roared at him to shut up and get away while they could. Throughout, the mistcat watched Dutiful as a house cat watches a mousehole. I could almost feel the woman's hunger to possess him completely. had no faith that she would be bound by Laudwine 's bargain any more than his mob. If she moved to take him, if Dutiful showed any sign of her invading him, I would have to kill him whether the Fool had escaped or not. I desperately wanted them gone. I smiled, hoping it did not look too much like a snarl as Lord Golden gripped Laudwine with his eyes. Then he dared to sweep the gathered mob with that golden glance. I was not certain what they thought, but I firmly believed that he memorized every face he gazed upon. I saw anger stir in many of them at his look.
And all the while the Prince stood in the circle of my arm, my knife to his throat, ransom for my friends' lives. He stood very still, as if thinking of nothing at all. He met the cat's gaze evenly. I dared not guess what passed between them, not even when the cat glanced aside and stared resolutely past him.
Anger hardened Laudwine 's features for a moment, but then he mastered them. “Of course you must report to the Queen. But when she has heard an accounting from her son of his experiences with us, perhaps she will be more sympathetic to our position.” He made a small motion with his hand, and after a pause, his followers parted. I did not envy Lord Golden his walk through that tunnel of animosity.
I looked down at Nighteyes. He leaned against my leg and pressed hard there for a moment. I focused my mind to the point of a pin. Go to earth as soon as you may. Lead him off the road and hide as best you can.
Such a dolorous look he gave me. Then our minds parted, Nighteyes tottered after the Fool, stifflegged but dignified. I did not know how far he would get, but at least he would not die in this cave surrounded by hounds and hunting cats that hated him. The Fool would be beside him. That was as much comfort as could find for myself.
The mouth of the cave was an arch of light. In that halo, I saw Malta brought to the Fool. He took her reins but did not mount her. Instead, he led her in a slow walk, one that matched the pace Nighteyes could sustain. I stared after them, a man and a horse and a wolf walking away from me. Their figures dwindled smaller, and I became aware of Dutiful standing in the circle of my arm, his breathing matching mine. Life walked away from me, and I embraced death here. “I'm so sorry,” I whispered by his ear. “I'll makeit fast.”
He already knew. My son's reply was the barest stirring of air. “Not yet. A small corner still belongs to me. I can hold her off for a time, I think. We will let them get as far as they can.”
The Tawny Man 2 - Golden Fool
The Tawny Man 2 - Golden Fool
The Tawny Man 1 - Fools Errand
Chapter XXVI
SACRIFICE
Although it is commonly spoken of as the Mountain Kingdom, that territory and its rulers do not at all follow the Six Duchies' concept of what constitutes a true kingdom. A kingdom is most often visualized as a single people in a common territory, ruled over by a monarch. The Mountains do not lend themselves to any of those three defining limits. Rather than a single folk, there are the roving hunters, the migratory herd folk, traders and travelers with set patterns of routes, and those who choose to eke out a living on scattered little farms throughout the region. It is easy to understand that these folk may share few common interests.
It is natural, then, that the “ruler” of these folk is not a king in the traditional sense. Rather, the line began with a mediator, a wise man who was adept at arbitrating the disputes that were bound to arise between such disparate peoples. The legends of the Chyurda “kings” abound with tales of rulers willing to offer themselves as ransom, to risk not only wealth but also their own lives for their people. From this tradition comes the honorific the Mountain people bestow on their ruler. Not King or Queen do they call their monarch, but Sacrifice.