Borel frowned and looked at Flic, but the Sprite turned up both hands. He stepped onto the tricorn and said, “Let us away to the tubs.”
With Flic and Buzzer aboard, Borel took up his hat and headed for the door to the baths. Just as he reached it, the clerk called after, “Though there were quite a number of hoofprints.”
Borel turned and said, “Hoofprints?”
“Up beyond the rapids. That’s all the constable found. There’s a wild horse running amok ’round those parts that’s been destroying crops and raising havoc at night.”
Flic gasped and swung down to Borel’s shoulder and said, “Lady Wyrd knew. She knew! That’s what she meant.”
Borel nodded and intoned, “ ‘You must triumph o’er a cunning, wicked, and most deadly steed.’ ”
“A Pooka,” said Flic. “Oh, Borel, she was speaking of a Pooka. There’s a Pooka beyond the rapids, and it is drowning men.”
28
Borel said, “We should go right now and-”
“Oh, no, my lord,” said Flic. “Pookas are night creatures. Besides, you don’t even have a good blade.”
“I have this one of flint,” said Borel, pulling the stone knife from his belt.
“I think you will need a better one, my lord; Pookas are quite perilous, you know… one of the Dark Fey… unseely. And so you need something better than a piece of flint to threaten him with, but not to kill him.”
“Not that I was planning to, but why not kill a Pooka?”
“If you kill a Pooka, my lord, you will be forever cursed.”
“Very well, Flic. I’ll get a long-knife at the blacksmith’s. Then we’ll go.”
“My lord prince, it is yet midmorn, hence we have most of the day for you to not only purchase a weapon, but also supplies and goods for the long journey Lady Wyrd said lies ahead of us. Hence, I think we should spend the day in town acquiring what we need. After all, we know not exactly where the creature might be, other than perhaps in the vicinity of the White Rapids. Once we get there I can fly in the night and find him.”
“All right, Flic, all right. I yield. We do have time. Let us first to the baths, and while I soak I would have you tell me all you know of Pookas. Perhaps an idea will occur on how to triumph o’er this cunning and wicked and most deadly steed.”
Borel gave over his leathers to the attendant for cleaning, and his linens for laundering, and then he eased his trim frame with its long, lean muscles down into the great copper tub full of hot water, where he lathered and rinsed his shoulder-length, silver-cast hair, then lathered and rinsed his body; and the silver-sheened hair on his broad chest tapered in a vee down across his flat stomach toward his narrow hips and to his groin to meet the same silvery tone, though there it was perhaps a bit darker. He then settled in to soak. As he did these things, Buzzer watched from a towel rack, while Flic sat on the side of the tub and spoke of Pookas:
“They’re also called Phookas and a number of other names, none of which are to be confused with Pwcas-a name that sounds the same, but is spelled differently-who are really Bwcas, a kind of a Goblin, but usually helpful rather than vile.
“Anyway, Pookas are of several natures: some are merely out for a lark, while others are a bit more destructive, and still others are on a rampage.”
Borel grunted and said, “It seems as if the one beyond the rapids is on a rampage.”
“Oui,” said Flic, “for it is killing men, rather than merely swooping them up for a terrifying ride through bogs and briars and such and then dumping them in muddy ditches or quag holes.”
“That’s what I’ve heard of Pookas,” said Borel. “They are tricksters, and they fool people into thinking they will go on a pleasant ride when instead it is quite the opposite. But that is all I’ve heard of them. This one, though, the clerk said, destroys crops and raises havoc at night.”
Flic nodded and said, “Oh, yes, my lord, Pookas do such things. In the night it roams the countryside and tramples crops and tears down fences and scatters cattle and sheep and other such. Why, they even say that should a crofter’s fowl-chickens and geese in particular-merely catch sight of the creature, they entirely stop laying. Too, they can cause livestock to sicken or sour their milk or cause a number of other wicked mischiefs.”
Borel frowned. “It would seem that if the Pooka were doing most if not all of these things, the constable would know that it’s not merely a wild horse running amok.”
“Perhaps none in this town nor in the steads ’round have ever heard of Pookas.”
“Either that,” said Borel, “or they are afraid to acknowledge that one of the Dark Fey is responsible for the killings.”
Flic knitted his brow. “Perhaps the Pooka was wronged by someone herein, or wasn’t given its due.”
“Its due?”
“Aye. At the end of the harvest, long strips of standing crops are left behind by the reapers specifically for the Pooka. It is his share.”
“And if the crofters do not do such…?”
“Then the Pooka rampages,” said Flic.
“Ah, then, perhaps here we have the motive for this destruction,” said Borel.
“Even so, my lord, it does not justify murder.”
“No, it does not. But tell me, what else is there about Pookas? If we are to stop him, I need to know.”
“Well, Pookas are also shapeshifters: most of the time they take the form of dark horses with burning yellow eyes, but they’ve also been known to become huge and hideous and hairy Boglemen, sometimes with goats’ heads and horns, at other times they become great black goats in full. Pookas can also transform into a variety of enormous birds: vultures, eagles, crows, ravens, and the like, all with wingspans as wide as a barn, they say, however wide that might be.
“Oh, and there is this: they say Pookas are nearly impossible to kill, but should someone do so, he and all his kith are cursed forever. Not only that, but wherever a Pooka might be slain, great storms rise up, especially along sea-coasts and waterways and lakes. Too, wherever the Pooka dies, the land for leagues about is blighted for a hundred years or more. That is what I have heard, my lord. Whether it be true, I cannot say, though I do believe it to be so.”
“Then I shall not try to kill the Pooka,” said Borel. “After all, we need its aid, or so Lady Wyrd implied.-Is there ought along those lines?”
“Indeed,” said Flic. “Though it be rare, it is said they sometimes help people by prophesying or giving guidance.”
“Ah, then, this is why Lady Wyrd uttered what she did,” said Borel. “We must get the Pooka to give us aid.” Borel frowned and looked at Flic. “Tell me, how does a Pooka do so? — Give aid, I mean.”
“Why, my lord, it speaks,” said Flic, turning up a hand.
“In a human voice?”
Vexed, Flic snorted and said, “And in the voice of the Fey, too.”
“Sorry, Flic, I didn’t mean to omit the Fey.”
Borel then stood and, dripping, stepped from the tub and took up a towel from a shelf rather than from the rack where Buzzer rested. As he dried off he said, “And just how are we to stop this rampage and gain the guidance we need?”
“By riding him until he submits, my prince, and perhaps by giving him his due.”
“Has anyone ever ridden a Pooka to submission?”
“Just one, I think: a man-a king of the Keltoi, I believe-but I don’t recall his name. There was some trick to it. If I can remember how it was done…”
“I hope you do, my friend,” said Borel, now donning a robe. “For Lady Wyrd says I must triumph o’er a cunning and wicked and most deadly steed, and every trick will help.”
Even as Borel looked about for the attendant, the man appeared and said, “Your clothing will be ready ere the noontide, Sieur.”
“Good,” said Borel, “Just in time for a midday meal.”
After eating, Borel, with Flic and Buzzer riding his hat, went to the dry-goods store, where he purchased a bedroll and a rucksack and a good length of rope, to add to his Gnome-given things. Next, he stopped in the farmers’ market and bought supplies for the trail, including another jar of honey. With his rucksack full and the bedroll atop, he went to the smithery, and though the metalworker had no blade on hand to fit Borel’s long-knife sheath, if the lord would only leave it behind, the blacksmith promised he would have a keen, proper-sized bronze blade within it by morn.