The Well of the Unicorn by Fletcher Pratt

Author:Fletcher Pratt [Pratt, Fletcher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780575072671
Google: ez16PwAACAAJ
Amazon: 0575072679
Publisher: GOLLANCZ
Published: 1981-02-12T06:00:00+00:00

22 Shalland: Evil at the Inn

THEY RODE. With saddle-sores and hungry, they rode; few were the words that were spoken, and those mostly of a quarrelsome kind, so that Airar must intervene to keep one of his men and a Carrhoene sergeant from blows. The day had cleared, so they lacked the rain that left them so miserable yesterday, but the march was a hard one even without that, and the only interlude to the dull grey of the journey was when the kitten squirmed and had to be set down to do its duty. The small animal raced away into a clump of weeds and Airar was much put to retrieve it while Carrhoene sergeants whooped at him and his face reddened.

In another mood he might have remarked how now around the country showed less of trees and more of farms, with here a man or two visible, and cattle; but he did not, therefore was surprised on turning a corner again to see at the crest of the next slow rise the others gathered in a group, men off horses and waiting. It was Gaspelnith beyond, lying below down, a noble slope of lawn, a long one-storied building not very large, nor very clearly visible either because of the tall oaks that stood it round. There were rooks in the oaks, to be seen even from here, and tall barns for the drovers' convenience; but over the heads of barns and trees, far away through the next sweep of the rolling sea of land, Airar's sharp sight caught a silver gleam. That must be Vallingsveden, the river of Shalland and the reason why the inn had been set here; for up that river came ships from the lands to the south and down it boats from hillset Stavorna. The spectacle was so gracious that he answered but absently to comments (which in any case had small importance) as they rode down the slope, with weariness redoubled by the near approach of peace.

Three or four men came out to watch their arrival and from the distance they looked like nut-brown Mariolans with their mail-shirts off, a thought which confirmed itself on reaching near enough for speech. One was Tholkeil, whom Airar had seen long since, shivering in the marsh; he had a tale to tell, but must keep it till all dismounted stiffly and as many as could be crowded into the tavern, where the host with two or three wenches and some Micton girls was setting out hams and drawing beer. Airar did not much like what he saw of this host, a burly man with a fat face and hair so cut that it stood straight aloft at the front of his head, who ran around like a dog, alternately barking at his underlings and sniffing of his guests' feet. He liked it still less when Tholkeil said the fellow was neither of the Iron Ring nor of the Vulking Allies, but had taken priest's orders, the better to run his inn without molestation in the midst of alarms.

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