She blushed now. “I’ll be fine. I promise. At the first hint of trouble, I’ll run.”
“And come and find me.”
She chuckled again. “And I’ll come and find you.”
“You never know, it might be me needing your help. I’m still not convinced I can do that spell properly.”
“We spent half the night going over it. You know the words. You know the intended meaning. It will all work as it’s supposed to.”
“When I’m done with the dragons, I’ll come to Mirabay and find you. If that’s all right.”
She smiled. “I’d be hurt if you did anything else. You look after yourself, Guillot dal Villerauvais. You’re too good a man to die.”
There was a moment of silence, then she urged her horse on, and was gone.
He stared after her, and his gaze unfocussed. There was more he should have done. Should have said. They both knew the chances of seeing one another again. Within a few days, it was likely either one or both of them would be dead. It was one of those moments where the welcoming embrace of the bottle called to him like the song of angels. If ever there was a time, surely he could justify it at that moment?
“She’s a fine-looking woman. You’re together?”
Guillot looked over as Beausoleil walked out of the inn and into the stable yard. “No,” he said. “Friends.”
Beausoleil nodded. “Never much liked Trelain,” he said. “Very much looking forward to getting on our way.”
“I suspect most able-bodied swordsmen with a death wish will bypass Trelain and head straight for Venne, now that word of the attacks is out,” Guillot said. “If we need to, I’m sure we can find more men on the road.”
“Whatever you think, Captain.”
Gill fixed him with an ironic stare. It had been a long time since anyone had called him captain, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He couldn’t help but feel something of a fraud, considering how few volunteers he’d managed to attract. He looked up at the sun; the day had gotten away from him, and there seemed little point in setting off now—they’d make most of the journey in darkness. Leaving in the morning would change nothing.
“Let’s aim to set off before dawn. If we press hard, we should make Venne by nightfall.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Beausoleil headed back into the inn, leaving Gill standing alone, considering the magnitude of what lay ahead.
“The taxidermist collected it.”
Shaking the funk from his head, Guillot turned to see the stable boy standing next to a pile of hay, pitchfork in his hands. “Pardon me?”
“The head. The taxidermist collected it. I sent for him as you asked.”
Gill looked at where the head had been, only now noticing its absence. “Of course. Thank you.” He reached to his purse for a coin.
“I’d rather a favour than a coin,” the lad said.
Guillot raised an eyebrow and shrugged. He must have made a fortune, charging a penny per person for a look at the dragon’s head. “Name it.”
“You’re going with those peasants to kill their dragons?”
“It would seem so.”
“Take me with you.”
Guillot barked out a laugh. “Come again?”
“Take me with you. As your squire.”
“You’ve lost your wits, lad,” Guillot said. “You saw the beast’s head. You know what we’re up against. It’s not all Andalon, Valdamar, shining armour, and heroic deeds. I can think of a lot of things I’d rather do.”
The boy nodded to a pile of manure in the corner of the yard. “You can shovel that lot, if you like. Soon as I’m done with the hay, I have to. And tomorrow, after I wake up, I’ll shovel more hay, then more manure. Then one day, I won’t wake up. Just like my da. I’d rather see a real live dragon, and take my chances. If I can live through that, maybe the Academy will take me on.”
“You’re better off here, lad. I promise you.”
“You’ve not got the first clue what it’s like here. I can decide for myself where I’m better off. That’s anywhere but here.”
Gill studied the boy’s face, his resolute look of determination and hope. He thought about how the lad had kept the crowds away from the dragon’s head.
“I’ve enough coin saved from work and showing people the head to buy travelling provisions and a pony. I won’t be a burden on your purse. All I ask is you show me a few things, and if we get through it all, you write me a letter for the Academy.”
In the darkest recess of his mind, Guillot could still hear the bottle calling to him. He shut it out. “We leave before dawn. If you’re not here and ready, we go without you.”
The boy was out of the yard before his pitchfork had hit the ground.
CHAPTER 12
Solène had been alone for much of the last ten years, but when she rode out of the Black Drake’s stable yard, she felt painfully lonely. Since being forced to flee her home and her family, she hadn’t relied on anyone, nor cared about anyone. It was obvious to her that this had changed without her awareness. The thought that she was abandoning Gill to his death sent such a chill through her that she considered turning her horse around.
The truth of it was that she knew that facing three dragons would push her body too far, and kill her. That worry was secondary to her fear of killing someone else, however. It seemed the choices in her life were always tough. Run away from everything she knew and loved, or face the execution pyre as a witch. Abandon the first decent person she had met since leaving home, or risk killing herself and others around her. She knew Guillot could take care of himself, and in teaching him how to use the Cup, she had given him most of the tools she would have brought with her. Still, she could not shake the feeling that she had let him down.
She urged the horse to a brisk pace. The roads of Mirabaya were not safe for a single rider more than a few hours beyond the larger towns, and all the more so for a woman travelling alone. There would be a terrible irony in burning herself out—unintentionally draining her entire internal reservoir of magical energy—fighting off highwaymen on the way to learning how to rein in her power.
She was certain there were magical ways she could speed her journey, or shroud her passing, but since she didn’t know how to create either of those effects, the danger of creating something far less desirable was ever-present.
Assuming they hadn’t connected her disappearance to Leverre’s, she would have to explain her absence from Mirabay. Hopefully he’d done as he’d promised and left a note behind, explaining his actions and taking all responsibility on himself.
Solène concentrated on creating a story to excuse her actions. Returning home because of a family bereavement seemed like the easiest excuse, but she wasn’t sure it was plausible. How would she have heard the news? By design, no one from Bastelle knew where she was. Considering why she had left, it didn’t seem likely that going back, no matter what the reason, would ever be a good idea. No, that wouldn’t pass scrutiny. Both the Prince Bishop and the officers at the Priory knew too much about her background to believe such a tale.
Still, try as she might, she couldn’t come up with anything better. There was simply no reason for her to leave the city. She had no friends, no family, no responsibilities. Bastelle was her only connection to the outside world. Solène chewed the idea over as she rode. There was little in the way of interesting scenery to distract her. The countryside was mainly forest, grassland, or farms. The road was good for the most part, as the weather had been dry, so the horse was able to take care of the navigation with only the most minor involvement on her part.