Homecomings (Spider and the Hound)

As promised, here is the next installment of the Spider and the Hound, and only slightly late. Well, they say you can't rush genius, so I don't see why the rest of us should rush either.

Homecomings

There had been a warm autumn night. In the moonlight, two children hurried across a field, running carelessly over the newly turned soil. The smaller of the two was out in front, leading the way.

"How much further?" The taller asked, his voice cracking with approaching manhood. "Ye said it was close."

"It is close." The smaller answered in the self-assured tone of a girl whose recent progression into double-digits made her practically a grown up. "It's just past that tree over there."

"If pa finds out we're out here, he'll take his belt to me backside."

"Stop worrying Sef. He's fast asleep. He won't wake up until morning."

"What if Jon wakes up? He can't keep secrets."

"He won't. Trust me, we'll be fine."

"Ye can't know." The boy, Sef, mumbled.

"Anyway, we're nearly there now."

"This better be worth it."

"Have I ever been wrong?"

"Does being wrong a'purpose count?"

"You calling me a liar, Sefton Brin?"

"Well, ain't ye?"

"It's not really lying. The grownups wouldn't understand if I told them all the truth, so I cut bits out. That's not lying."

"It's a bit like lying."

"Well, I don't lie to you. I tell you everything."

"Ye ain't told me why we're looking for a pond in the middle of the night."

"Because I was out here the other night, and there's badgers and foxes and owls and things."

"Ye were out the other night?"

"I didn't want to wake you, 'cos I didn't know where I was going."

"Ye still should've woken me."

"I wanted to look at the stars. You hate looking at the stars."

"Pff. They're just bits of light. There's no point."

"And that's why I didn't wake you."

"You sure there's interesting stuff at this pond? It's not just stars?"

"I'm sure. You'll see, if you hurry yourself up. I've never seen anyone run so slow."

"I'm slow, am I? Right, well keep up with me now."

With a triumphant laugh, the boy sped up, showering the girl with soil kicked up from his feet. The girl shrieked, and followed.

By the same field, years later, the children as adults sat atop horses and smiled reminiscently. Behind them, with tied hands and his horse on a lead rein, rode the young Lord Leighton, chaffing at the restraints and the unexpected pause in their journey.

"Are we going to sit here all day?" Leighton asked eventually, when neither of his guards appeared to want to move.

The woman, Aislin Kay, smiled hazily.

"We would if we could." She replied, turning her horse. "I miss those nights, sneaking out here when everyone was asleep."

The man, Sefton Brin, grunted agreement.

"Ah. This is a homecoming, then." Leighton commented disdainfully. "I never took Kilmerrow to be a hive of rebel sympathisers."

"That's because it's not." Aislin replied thoughtfully. "They have a good Lord, reasonable taxes, and fair laws. There's not much for them to rebel against."

"In my experience, Spider, peasants don't need much."

"If that's your experience, then you must be one of the bad ones."

"It's hardly a surprise to hear you say that."

"Do you think? I can tell a good Lord from a bad one. A good Lord doesn't raise taxes on his land to pay for a fancier town house in the city. A good Lord doesn't leave his estate in the hands of a steward who has a man hung for being attacked by his hunting dogs. A good Lord, my Lord Leighton, doesn't throw a family out of their own home so he can turn their land into a park to impress his guests."

"It's my land, not theirs. The peasants live on it with my permission, and I can withdraw that permission when I like. That is the law, and I hardly need a lecture on it from you, mistress Kay."

"Yes, it is the law, and that's why we rebel. Your actions don't just affect one man, or one family. Everything you do effects everyone you rule over. Those people rely on you for their lives, but what you don't seem to realise is that you also depend on them."

"Hardly."

"Save your breath, Aislin." Sefton interrupted. "He's a noble, he won't understand."

"He understood once," She told her friend seriously, "When he was a boy. He argued with his father about it, when his father had two of the stable hands hung for theft without evidence. But now he's in charge, he's afraid he'll be seen as weak if he doesn't do what the other boys do."

"What do you..." Leighton spluttered. "How dare... There's no way you could..."

"Take a breath, my Lord." Aislin told him calmly. "Get your thoughts together. Then maybe you can finish a sentence."

"You can't possibly know that. Nobody knows about that argument."

"At least two people knew about it, since two people took part. That's one more person that I need if I want to find out about it. And servants always know - you can't keep secrets from your servants."

"No. It's impossible."

Sefton laughed at that.

"Why do you think the Bloodhound has been so intent on catching her?"

Leighton sat back in his saddle, clearly disturbed. Aislin kept her face turned away from him, hiding her smile.

"Where do you want us to wait, then?" Sefton asked, turning back to business.

"Do you want to see if that clearing is still there? The one with the wild strawberries? It would be a good place to start."

"To start what?" Leighton asked. "What exactly are we doing here?"

"We're giving you back." Sefton told him. "If you do as your told, you'll be a free man this time tomorrow."

"You're letting me go?"

"I did promise." Aislin reminded him.

"I know. But..." He hesitated.

"But peasants don't keep promises." Sefton finished for him. "Or is it just rebels that don't?"

"Why are we in Kilmerrow, then? If we're talking about promises, you said I'd be returned home. We on the wrong side of the kingdom for Coristorn."

"We're handing you over to the Hound." Aislin said. "I can't think of anyone better qualified to get you home safely."

"So it's a trade. He has something you want, and you're trading me for it."

"We are."

"That's incredibly naive of you."

"Well, I'm sure, as rebels, we're incapable of complex thoughts, so we can't possibly have made an escape plan."

"You think you can outrun the Bloodhound? Even if you barter for the right to leave unchallenged, he'll catch up with you before you've gone a mile. It's a fool's errand."

"I'm touched, my Lord, I truly am. I had no idea you cared so much for our safety."

"Damn your safety. I want to know how you think you'll get away with it."

"That's quite simple. You're going to tell Lord Bethuel not to chase us."

"Like hell I will."

"Well, it's up to you, but on your head be it when we take that money from the royal treasury."

"You'll never break into the treasury."

"We don't need to." Sefton explained. "They'll bring the money out to us."

"I'm sure you're aware that the king transfers funds from Rane to Dore every few months." Aislin continued. "The next transfer leaves in two days. We could do a lot with that money - buy better weapons and armour, pay bribes, you name it. Money opens a lot of doors in this world."

"No one knows when that money is moved. No one knows what route it will take to Dore. Even the guards don't know they'll be assigned to the treasurer's carriage until the morning they leave. There's no way you can know when it's going."

Aislin gave him an old-fashioned look.

"Of course someone knows when it will leave. The Chancellor, for one, and like I said before, one is all I need. It leaves in two days, it will detour west through the Coris plains - the edge of your land, in fact - and it will enter Dore through the north-west gate. There will be four guards riding outside the carriage, three more inside, and the two coachmen will be guards in plain clothes. I know all this, and so do my friends in the west. Unless Lord Bethuel gets to Rane in two days, which will be impossible unless he leaves immediately, the carriage will be hijacked and the money given to a better cause."

"Anyone could take that message, it doesn't have to be the Hound."

"Yes it does. I also have friends scattered through the countryside round here. The Hound goes, or nobody does, they'll see to that."

"So you're willing to sell out your own people? You understand that they'll be hanged if they're caught."

"Why, I'm amazed I didn't think of that before. I must be losing my touch."

"I think this is where we part company." Sefton muttered, nodding to the approaching edge of a patch of trees. Aislin nodded agreement, and dismounted.

"You're leaving?" Leighton asked brightly, as she handed her reins to Sefton.

"I am. I need to find with Lord Bethuel. And remember, I might not want any harm to come to you, but Sefton has never agreed with me on that point. Don't cause him any trouble. Be sensible, and in the morning you'll be rid of  us."

"Then morning cannot come soon enough."

Aislin smiled, clasped hands with Sefton, and watched as the two men turned and rode into the woods. Alone, she made for Kilmerrow and the Hound.

In sight of the town walls, Aislin pulled on her cloak, and raised the hood. It had been years since she had last passed through Kilmerrow, but she understood too well the impression she had left when she had lived here. A hooded figure on a warm spring day would be less noticeable than she would be, even after all this time.

It was strange to walk through the streets of Kilmerrow again, and stranger still not to be greeted by street vendors and workmen. There were new faces, of course, but she could still put names to many of the people she passed. Memories flowed around her as she trod her way along familiar routes towards the town square.

There had never been any doubt that Lord Bethuel would be waiting for her there. He stood, back to her, reading the inscription on the statue that stood at the centre of the square - a testament to the General who had annexed Kilmerrow from its old kingdom of Kalraigh. Aislin watched him for a moment, until she felt his attention spill over to her. Then she approached.

"I've never much liked that statue." She commented when she was close enough. The Hound didn't turn. "I mean, of course it was a great military victory, but when it comes right down to it, he was nothing but a thief. And his eyes follow you as you walk by. It's a bit creepy."

The Hound ran his eyes over the statue once more, the picture of a man at leisure. With no sense of urgency, he drew the moment of silence out. Then he grunted depreciatingly.

"That's what you get for living in a town with mages." With a half turn towards her, he added, "Cold?"

"I'm being inconspicuous." Aislin told him.

"A hooded figure on a warm day, talking to the King's Bloodhound. I would not call that 'inconspicuous'."

"You should see what happens when I take the hood down."

"So, Spider, did you want something, or are you simply in town visiting old friends?"

"I seem to have found one of your wayward Lords. I thought you might want him back."

"That's very generous of you. I hardly expected him to be returned alive."

"Then maybe you don't know me very well."

"Where is he?"

"I'll take you to him just as soon as we reach an agreement. I give you Lord Leighton, you leave Kilmerrow, and never bother the Brin family again."

"I can't do that. Sefton Brin's family may be complicit. Dissention runs in families, after all."

"You've spoken to them. You must know they're no more rebels than you are."

"I spoke to the father. He certainly seems like a law-abiding man. His sons may be a different matter."

"Then we have a problem." Aislin sighed. "The deal's only on the table until the morning. After that, I have to move on."

"And leave the Brins to their fate?"

"No. I'll just be forced to take other measures."

The Hound laughed.

"It might just be worth it. You and me, locked in battle for the lives of a family of innocent bystanders. That'd be a song for the minstrels, just like you promised."

"So you do think they're innocent."

He shrugged.

"I expect so. But I can't make assumptions."

Aislin let silence roll over them, giving the Hound space to negotiate on his own terms.

"Here's what I can do." He said finally. "If I can satisfy myself as to the innocence of the Brin family, I will agree to leave them out of my hunt for yourself and master Brin. If I discover they have broken the law in the future, their protection ends. In return, you give me Lord Leighton, alive and unharmed."

"You bargain like a lawyer."

"Do you agree?"

"How long do you need to speak to the rest of the family?"

"This evening will be fine. We meet back here at midnight, and you take me to Leighton."

"We'll meet back here in the morning. You're tricky enough in daylight - I won't deal with you in the dark."

"The morning, then. As long as I find no treachery in the Brin household, you'll give Leighton over to my care, and we'll go our separate ways."

"Agreed."

"Of course, none of this would be necessary if you gave yourself up to the King's justice."

"I've never liked doing things the easy way." Aislin smiled. "Until the morning, my Lord."

The afternoon was ebbing as Theron left Kilmerrow. Despite what he had told the Spider, he didn't need convincing of the Brin family's loyalty to the crown. He could scent rebellion a mile away, and there was none in that house. But somewhere out in the farmland surrounding Kilmerrow Lord Leighton was being held, and Theron wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to look for  him now.

There had been other traffic through the south gate since Aislin had entered, but he could still make out the faint traces of her tracks in the road. Following instinct more than visible signs, Theron followed those tracks back until he found a place where she had paused. Two other horses had waited with her there, before riding off into the woods to the east. One set of tracks followed along behind the other. Friends would ride side by side - a prisoner and his guard might ride along in tandem like this.

After meandering through the trees for a few minutes, the trail entered a small clearing, bluebell-strewn and with signs of regular, small-footed visitors. He suspected the reason for that would be the strawberries covering the northern edge of the clearing. The plants had a well-tended look, and a number of the fruit were already turning red.

Towards the southern end of the clearing was more recent evidence of visitors. A fire pit sat, still warm, inside a ring of stones. In the fire pit, weighed down at one corner by the ash, was a folded piece of parchment. In the parchment was a lock of hair.

I admire your tenacity, my Lord Bethuel. Here is part of Lord Leighton as a reward. Follow on, and we'll leave you another piece.

A.

Theron nodded soberly. Mistress Kay had expected him to search, and whoever was guarding Leighton was well prepared. If he followed on, he might catch up with them. On the other hand, he was more likely to find another note, this time enclosing a more important part of the Lord he was trying to rescue. A finger, maybe, or an ear. The Spider may not have been willing to make the cut herself, but she clearly had no qualms about ordering others to do so.

He stood, and tucked the letter into his jacket. The tracks he had followed led out west, but there was nothing to be gained following them any further. With a smile, he turned back to Kilmerrow.

Aislin chose the Queen's Grace inn for a room that night. It was the biggest inn in Kilmerrow, and was right on the square, which would be useful for the morning. She almost regretted having to stay there, though. The staff there were among the people she had ingratiated herself with when she was young, and the moment she removed her cloak, everyone from the innkeeper, Ersson, to the scullery maid was out, shaking her hand and patting her back.

"Eh, mistress Kay, it's that good t'see ye again. We've missed ye round 'ere, no mistake. Yer stayin' fer the night? O'course we've space, and don't ye be thinkin' a-paying. No, not another word. There's the King's own Bloodhound in town askin' about ye, so I reckon ye could use as much goodwill as ye can get. Aye, he's stayin' here too. First floor, right at the end. Said he wanted an end room special, like as not so he can shimmy out that window into the alley, none the wiser. He wouldn't be the first what did that. No need to fret, I'll put ye at the other end, far from him as I can do. 'Ope that suits. Now, ye'll be wanting a meal, no doubt. Sit right there, girl, and I'll have the kitchen put summat together fer ye. And try a cup a-this. Mulled cider. Me wife makes it, got the recipe from some Ledoth traders come through here a few years back. Best thing in the world fer the end of a hard day. Sit yerself right down, and let me get ye that food."

Aislin sat. There wasn't much she could do under the well-meaning onslaught. Only after the mug of cider and an apparently endless supply of food could she make her excuses heard and retreat to her room.

Peace. Aislin sighed and collapsed onto the bed, finally able to think about the events of the day. By this time, the Hound would have found Sefton's trail, and had hopefully decided to abandon his search. Sefton would have left a few more abandoned camp sites between them anyway, just in case. There was nothing else she could do for now, except sleep.

Sleeping was always the trouble. After fighting the temptation to simply roll over where she was and close her eyes, she forced herself to her feet and looked around the room.

She had never liked inns, but at least the innkeeper had given her an end room, like he promised. It wasn't the beds, with the ghosts of a hundred previous guests; it wasn't the room itself, always on the cold side of comfortable. She simply could not sleep near other people. Her dreams leaked at the edges, touching anyone nearby. It left her tense and unrested. It gave other people nightmares.

With one last exertion, Aislin grabbed the bed and pushed it into the far corner of the inn, as far as possible from anyone sleeping in the next room. Finally, with an envious thought of Sefton out in the empty woods, she rolled herself into the covers and tried to sleep.

"So, Lord Bethuel. Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal. You give me Leighton, and I will leave the Brin's alone."

Aislin held the Hound's gaze for a long moment, searching. Finally, she nodded.

"Alright. Come with me, then."

 The walk through Kilmerrow was uncomfortable. Hidden inside her cloak, Aislin could feel what it was like to be the Hound, surrounded by unfriendly glances and frightened mutterings. Used to smiles and cheerful greetings, she pulled her hood a bit higher and kept her face down. 

It was a relief to walk out through the gates into the peace of the surrounding farmland. Once they had passed a strung-out merchant caravan on their way into town, Aislin pulled her hood back and sighed.

"That was less than pleasant."

"What are you talking about?"

"The people in town. Although it explains why you're such a hard man. That sort of hostility would turn even me to stone."

"What hostility?"

Surprised, Aislin stared at the Hound.

"Maybe it's worse than I thought." She muttered. Louder, she added, "The atmosphere in town when we passed wasn't very friendly."

"That's how people are."

"That's how people are around you."

"No, Spider. That's how people are. Whatever you do to them, with you fast talk and drugged candles, it wears off when you leave. But you're not there to see it."

Aislin laughed.

"I understand why you see the worst in people, Lord Bethuel. You have to deal it every day. But that's not all there is. I don't do anything to people, I just bring out what they already have, and that doesn't wear off."

"It didn't do me much good." The Hound smiled.

"I daren't get close enough to you to help."

"And I hope that never changes. So tell me, mistress Kay. Did you get your ability from your mother?"

Aislin stopped.

"Why do you say that?"

"Magic tends to be passed down through families."

"I don't do magic..."

"Of course you do. When we spoke in Altran, the things you knew about me, there's no way you could have known unless you took it straight from my mind. Whatever the Mage Hall thinks, that's still magic. They just don't recognise it yet."

Uncertainly, Aislin began walking again.

"They called it empathy when I was tested. They said that wasn't magic."

The Hound stayed silent.

"Why my mother?"

"Because your father thought you had magic and your mother didn't. If your father had the skill himself, he was clearly hiding it, and wouldn't expose himself by visiting the Mage Hall."

"I'd love to know who you've been talking to."

"What did your mother do with it? Was she a rebel as well?"

"No. No one in Kilmerrow was until Sefton was recruited. I came to it through him."

"So what did she do?"

"She was a bakers wife." Aislin said crossly. "She didn't 'do' anything else. And if you don't mind, I'd like to change the subject. Your wayward Lord is through those trees. About half a mile, there'll be a clearing."

"Lead on, then."

"No. I'll be on my way."

"And I should simply trust that he'll be there?"

"Of course he'll be there. I'm betting the Brin's lives on it. And I want to be as far from you as possible once you find him."

The Hound smiled at that.

"Of course you do. Very well. I'll see you very soon, I'm sure."

"I certainly hope not, my Lord."

Theron felt the Spider's eyes on him as he walked into the trees. Of course she would watch him out of sight, so she could be sure he wasn't waiting to chase her down. She needn't have worried - his first job was to get Leighton back safely. There would be plenty of time to chase her afterwards.

It was slightly more than half a mile. The clearing opened up to reveal a young man, tied by his hands to a branch above his head. The rope was barely long enough to let his feet touch the ground.

"Lord Bethuel?" The man asked, wide-eyed and breathless.

"Lord Leighton." A flick of his knife brought the young Lord crashing to the ground. "Are you injured?"

"Nothing serious."

"Then get yourself into town. I have someone to catch."

"Lord Bethuel, wait." Leighton reached out and took Theron's arm. "The Spider asked me to give you a message."

A blank stare reminded Leighton to release the Hound's arm.

"Which is?"

"She said the Treasurer's carriage will be attacked tomorrow, as it's taking money to Dore. She has people to make sure you're the one that carries the warning - if anyone else tries, they'll be stopped."

"Alright." Theron turned again.

"I couldn't tell if she was bluffing, but she said you'd know."

"She isn't bluffing."

"Then we ride for Rane?"

"No. Go into Kilmerrow, find the inn, and wait for me there. I'll be back by midday."

"But if we're to reach Rane in time..."

"Lord Leighton, the most important thing about fighting the rebels is learning not to play by their rules. Now go. I'll meet up with you soon."

He didn't wait to see if the man listened to him - turning south, Theron picked up his feet and headed into the trees.

It would be difficult to put his thoughts into words. He wasn't tracking, exactly, but he followed a trail anyway. The Spider wouldn't run west or north. There was nothing between Kilmerrow and the border with the kingdom of Kalraigh except open country, and she would have trouble crossing the border without proper authority. Neither would she run east, as east would lead her back to Altran and into the hands of guards who would both recognise and arrest her. South was her only option.

He could almost see the path she must be taking. There was a lot of ground to the south, but the woods would give her cover for about twenty miles if she stuck to them. The trees would slow her down, but she would likely take concealment over speed since she wasn't expecting pursuers. Her wooded path was meandering, but his didn't need to be. If he moved fast enough, he could cut her off before she left the relative safety of the trees.

And when they met? She had at least one companion with her. She wasn't a fighter, so her companion would be. If he attacked the fighter, there was a chance the Spider would run. If he attacked the Spider, he would leave himself vulnerable to the fighter's defence.

A sound, barely heard, changed his course as he ran. The muffled sound of hooves in the detritus of the trees. Closer now, he picked out of creak of leather and the clank of metal fastenings. A horse snorted. A new smell filled the air.

Time to change the rules.

He dropped his pace slightly, forcing his footsteps louder. Not far ahead, although still out of sight, the sound of a conversation. He didn't need to hear the words to know what was said - moments later, the sound of hooves on dead leaves spread out, split, continued in two directions. The Hound smiled. They had been spooked, and had separated.

It wasn't hard to chose the Spider's track from the two that diverged ahead of him. She rode lighter, her horse making less impression in the mulch. And then there was her smell. It was almost covered by her horse, by the oiled leather of the tack, by the forest-floor flowers that spotted the ground, but it was there. It went east. So did the Hound.

The Spider was moving faster now, regardless of the treacherous footing and obstructed path. The Hound followed easily - for all her new speed, the trees still made four legs slower than two.

There she was. Just the back end of the horse, but it was her horse. The Hound snatched a handful of mulch and stones as he ran, filtering the litter away until he was left with two frost-cracked flints, all points and sharp edges. Hefting the first briefly, he waited for a clear path through the trees, aimed, threw.

There was no need for the second stone. The first struck horse flesh and the animal, already nervous, balked and reared. The startled Spider couldn't tighten her grip in time. She flew from the saddle, struck a tree, and slumped to the ground. The horse fled.

Cautious now, Theron pulled his knife and approached. The Spider's breathing was even, her eyes closed. He nudged her with a foot. Nothing. Quickly, he tied her hands and threw her over his shoulder.

The dew was barely off the grass, and the hunt was done. The Hound, head held high, turned and carried his quarry back to Kilmerrow.