Aillas spoke to the innkeeper. "We will want lodging for the night and the best you can provide in the way of supper. Also, if you please, send someone to care for our horses."
The innkeeper bowed politely, but without warmth. "We shall do our best to fulfill your desires."
The seven went to sit before the fire and the innkeeper brought wine. The three men hunching over their table inspected them covertly and muttered among themselves. The gentleman in dark blue and umber, after a single glance, returned to his private reflections. The seven, relaxing by the fire, drank wine with easy throats. Presently Yane called the service girl to his side. "Now, poppet, how many pitchers of wine have you served us?"
"Three, sir."
"Correct! Now each time you bring a pitcher to the table you must come to me and pronounce its number. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
The landlord strode on jackstraw legs across the room. "What is the trouble, sir?"
"No trouble whatever. The girl tallies the wine as we drink it, and there can be no mistakes in the score."
"Bah! You must not addle the creature's mind with such calculations! I keep score yonder!"
"And I do the same here, and the girl keeps a running balance between us."
The landlord threw his arms in the air and stalked off to his kitchen, from which he presently served the supper. The two service girls, standing somber and watchful in the shadows, came forward deftly to refill goblets and bring fresh pitchers, each time chanting its number to Yane, while the landlord, again leaning sourly behind his counter, kept a parallel score and wondered if he dared water the wine.
Aillas, who drank as much as any, leaned back in his chair and contemplated his comrades as they sat at ease. Garstang, no matter what the circumstances, might never disguise his gentility. Bode, liberated by the wine, forgot his fearsome countenance to become unexpectedly droll. Scharis, like Aillas, sat back in his chair enjoying the comfort. Faurfisk told coarse anecdotes with great gusto and teased the serving girls. Yane spoke little but seemed to take a sardonic pleasure in the high spirits of his friends.
Cargus, on the other hand, stared morosely into the fire. Aillas, sitting beside him, finally asked: "What troubles you that your thoughts bring gloom upon you?"
"I think a mixture of thoughts," said Cargus. "They come at me in a medley. I remember old Galicia, and my father and mother, and how I wandered away from their old age when I might have stayed and sweetened their days. I reflect on the Ska and their harsh habits. I think of my immediate condition with food in my belly, gold in my pouch, and my good companions around me, which gives me to ponder the fluxes of life and the brevity of such moments as these; and now you know the cause for my melancholy."
"That is clear enough," said Aillas. "For my part I am happy that we sit here rather than out in the rain; but I am never free of the rage which smoulders in my bones: perhaps it will never leave me despite all revenge."
"You are still young," said Cargus. "Tranquility will come in time."
"As to that I can't say. Vindictiveness may be a graceless emotion, but I will never rest until I redress certain deeds done upon me."
"I much prefer you as a friend than an enemy," said Cargus.
The two men fell silent. The gentleman in umber and dark blue who had been sitting quietly to the side, rose to his feet and approached Aillas. "Sir, I notice that you and your companions conduct yourselves in the manner of gentlemen, tempering your enjoyment with dignity. Allow me, if you will, to utter a probably unnecessary warning."
"Speak, by all means."
"The two girls yonder are patiently waiting. They are less demure than they seem. When you rise to retire, the older will solicit you to intimacy. While she entertains you with her meager equipment, the other rifles your purse. They share the gleanings with the landlord."
"Incredible! They are so small and thin!"
The gentleman smiled ruefully. "This was my own view when last I drank here to excess. Good night, sir."
The gentleman went off to his chamber. Aillas conveyed the intelligence to his companions; the two girls faded away into the shadows, and the landlord brought no more fuel to the fire.
Presently the seven staggered off to the straw pallets which had been laid down for them, and so, with the rain hissing and thudding on the thatch overhead, all slept soundly.
In the morning the seven awoke to find that the storm had passed, allowing sunlight of blinding brilliance to illuminate the land.
They were served a breakfast of black bread, curds and onions.
While Aillas settled accounts with the innkeeper, the others went to prepare the horses for the road.
Aillas was startled by the score. "What? So much? For seven men of modest tastes?"
"You drank a veritable flood of wine. Here is an exact tally: nineteen pitchers of my best Carhaunge Red."
"One moment," said Aillas. He called in Yane. "We are in doubt as to the tally of last night. Can you assist us in any way?"
"Indeed I can. We were served twelve pitchers of wine. I wrote the number on paper and gave it to the girl. The wine was not Carhaunge; it was drawn from that cask yonder marked 'Corriente': two pennies per pitcher."
"Ah!" exclaimed the landlord. "I see my mistake. This is a tally from the night before, when we served a party of ten noblemen."
Aillas scrutinized the score again. "Now then: what is this sum?"
"Miscellaneous services."
"I see. The gentleman who sat at the table yonder: who is he?"
"That would be Sir Descandol, younger son to Lord Maudelet of Gray Fosfre, over the bridge and into Ulfland."
"Sir Descandol was kind enough to warn us of your maids and their predatory mischief. There were no 'miscellaneous services.'"
"Really? In that case, I must delete this item."
"And here: 'Horses—stabling, fodder and drink.' Could seven horses occupy such luxurious expanses, eat so much hay and swill down so much valuable water as to justify the sum of thirteen florins?"
"Aha! You misread the figure, as did I in my grand total. The figure should be two florins."
"I see." Aillas returned to the account. "Your eels are very dear."
"They are out of season."
Aillas finally paid the amended account. He asked: "What lies along the road?"
"Wild country. The forest closes in and all is gloom."
"How far to the next inn?"
"Quite some distance."
"You have traveled the road yourself?"
"Through Tantrevalles Forest? Never."
"What of bandits, footpads and the like?"
"You should have put the question to Sir Descandol; he seems to be the authority on such offenses."
"Possibly so, but he was gone before the thought occurred to me.
Well, no doubt we shall manage."
The seven set off along the road. The river swung away and the forest closed in from both sides. Yane, riding in the lead, caught a flicker of movement among the leaves. He cried out: "Down, all!
Down in the saddle!" He dropped to the ground, snapped arrow to bow and launched a shaft into the gloom, arousing a wail of pain.
Meanwhile, a volley of arrows had darted from the forest. The riders, ducking to Yane's cry, were unscathed except for the ponderous Faurfisk, who took an arrow in the chest and died instantly. Dodging, crouching low, his fellows charged into the forest flourishing steel. Yane relied on his bow. He shot three more arrows, striking into a neck, a chest and a leg. Within the forest there were groans, the crashing of bodies, cries of sudden fear. One man tried to flee; Bode sprang upon his back, bore him to the ground, and there disarmed him.