Augustine Funnell by Brandyjack

Author:Brandyjack
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-12-27T03:05:54+00:00

CHAPTER 13

When morning came, no one commented on Gallant’s corpse which still sprawled in front of the farmer’s door. Brandyjack noted the farmer obviously had not gotten up quite as early as he’d led them to believe, but he said nothing to anyone. He would have liked to see the farmer’s face, though. He grimaced.

By the time the sun had fully risen, the wagon was out of sight of the farmhouse, Dextor guiding the horses down a narrow path. Beside the path was an occasional chunk of asphalt, but no one paid the black substance much notice, it being a common item by roadways.

The green of grass was a pleasant change from the yellow sand of the desert and the blackened earth of the wastelands. Trees were many, and in them birds sang.

“A morning to make one enjoy life,” Brandyjack said to Dextor.

“A pity there are not more of us alive to see it,” Dextor retorted, but Brandyjack could detect no malice or admonishment in the man’s tone.

“That’s true,” the wayfarer answered, “but we must realize there are some things no man may let pass and still call himself a man.”

“Well put,” Dextor told him.

They spoke little after that, but Brandyjack noticed what he thought was increased animosity toward him from Cherry. The bandit had said nothing, had not even appeared startled when he’d first seen Gallant’s corpse, but Brandyjack knew the killing of the man had not raised him any in Cherry’s estimation. Occasionally he smiled at the bandit, but the grins were never returned, nor even acknowledged with a nod.

At midday they came to another farmhouse and Brandyjack haggled with a farmer for a hot meal from the man’s wife. Thoruso paid, uncomplainingly, and they continued their journey.

“I’ve been wondering,” Brandyjack said to the Merchant after some time had passed, “why you do not complain when I make deals with your money. We could have found game in the woods, I suppose, but when I suggested we buy our food, you made no opposition. Why?”

“The very fact that you see fit to ask that question proves you do not fully believe in what I have told you I am going to do,” the Merchant replied evenly. “I’ve lived with my dreams for a long time, Brandyjack, and I see no reason to abandon them or safeguard against their failure. I will not need the money.”

“In that case,” Brandyjack went on, “why not buy another wagon from one of the farmers we meet? We’re getting cramped in this one, and there are certain members of our group who do not seem to care for my company.”

“We could use the wagon,” Thoruso agreed, “but if there is anyone who doesn’t care to sit near you, that person may remove himself from the wagon and walk beside us.”

Brandyjack chuckled, knowing the Merchant’s words had carried to everyone present, even over the creak of the wagon and the sounds it made traveling over the uneven path.

“However,” Thoruso went on, “if you think we would be better off with another wagon, we’ll buy one.

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