David Eddings - Queen of Sorcery

“Do you suppose we could talk about something else?” he asked somewhat plaintively.

It grew imperceptibly lighter, and the command to open the gate came from the watchtower on the wall above. The legionnaires slipped the iron bar and swung the ponderous gate open. With Mandorallen at his side, Silk led them out through the thick portal and across the bridge that spanned the dark waters of the Nedrane.

By noon they were eight leagues south of Tol Honeth, and Mister Wolf had somewhat regained his composure, though his eyes still seemed a bit sensitive to the bright spring sunlight, and he winced now and then when a bird sang a bit too near.

“Riders coming up behind,” Hettar said.

“How many?” Barak asked.

“Two.”

“Ordinary travelers, perhaps,” Aunt Pol said.

The two figures on horseback appeared from around a bend behind them and stopped. They spoke together for a moment or two and then came on, their bearing somewhat cautious. They were a peculiar pair. The man wore a green Tolnedran mantle, a garment not really suited for riding. His forehead was quite high, and his hair was carefully combed to conceal his encroaching baldness. He was very skinny, and his ears stuck out from the side of his head like flaps. His companion appeared to be a child dressed in a hooded traveling cloak and with a kerchief across her face to keep out the dust.

“Good day to you,” the skinny man greeted them politely as the pair drew alongside.

“Hello,” Silk returned.

“Warm for so early in the year, isn’t it?” the Tolnedran said.

“We noticed that,” Silk agreed.

“I wonder,” the skinny man asked, “do you have a bit of water you could spare?”

“Of course,” Silk said. He looked at Garion and gestured toward the pack animals. Garion dropped back and unhooked a leather waterskin from one of the packs. The stranger removed the wooden stopper and carefully wiped the mouth of the skin. He offered the bag to his companion. She removed her kerchief and looked at the skin with an expression of perplexity.

“Like this, your-uh-my Lady,” the man explained, taking the skin back, raising it in both hands and drinking.

“I see,” the girl said.

Garion looked at her more closely. The voice was familiar for some reason, and there was something about her face. She was not a child, though she was very small, and there was a kind of self indulged petulance about her tiny face. Garion was almost certain he had seen her somewhere before.

The Tolnedran handed the waterskin back to her, and she drank, making a small face at the resinous taste. Her hair was a purplish black, and there were faint dark smears on the collar of her traveling cloak that indicated that the color was not natural.

“Thank you, Jeebers,” she said after she had drunk. “And thank you, sir,” she said to Silk.

Garion’s eyes narrowed as a dreadful suspicion began to grow in his mind.

“Are you going far?” the skinny man asked Silk.

“Quite a ways,” Silk answered. “I’m Radek of Boktor, a Drasnian merchant, and I’m bound to the south with Sendarian woolens. This break in the weather destroyed the market in Tol Honeth, so I thought I’d try Tol Rane. It’s in the mountains, and it’s probably still cold there.”

“You’re taking the wrong road, then,” the stranger said. “The road to Tol Rane lies off to the east.”

“I’ve had trouble on that road,” Silk said glibly. “Robbers, you know. I thought it’d be safer to go through Tol Borune.”

“What a coincidence,” the skinny man told him. “My pupil and I are bound for Tol Borune ourselves.”

“Yes,” Silk admitted. “Quite a coincidence.”

“Perhaps we could ride along together.”

Silk looked doubtful.

“I don’t see any reason why not,” Aunt Pol decided before he could refuse.

“You’re most kind, gracious lady,” the stranger said. “I am Master Jeebers, Fellow of the Imperial Society, a tutor by profession. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

“I can’t really say so,” Silk told him, “although that’s not too remarkable, since we’re strangers here in Tolnedra.”

Jeebers looked a bit disappointed. “I suppose that’s true,” he said. “This is my pupil, Lady Sharell. Her father’s a grand master merchant, the Baron Reldon. I’m accompanying her to Tol Borune where she’s to visit relatives.”

Garion knew that was not true. The tutor’s name had confirmed his suspicions.

They rode several miles further, with Jeebers babbling animatedly at Silk. He spoke endlessly about his learning and continually prefaced his remarks with references to important people who seemed to rely on his judgment. Although he was tiresome, he appeared to be quite harmless. His pupil rode beside Aunt Pol, saying very little.

“I think it’s time we stopped for a bite to eat,” Aunt Pol announced. “Would you and your pupil care to join us, Master Jeebers? We have plenty.”

“I’m quite overcome by your generosity,” the tutor said. “We’d be delighted.”

They stopped the horses near a small bridge that crossed a brook and led them into the shade of a thick clump of willows not far from the road. Durnik built a fire, and Aunt Pol began to unload her pots and kettles.

Master Jeebers’ pupil sat in her saddle until the tutor quickly stepped over to help her down. She looked at the slightly marshy ground near the brook unenthusiastically. Then she glanced imperiously at Garion. “You-boy,” she called. “Fetch me a cup of fresh water.”

“The brook’s right there,” he told her, pointing.

She stared at him in amazement. “But the ground’s all muddy,” she objected.

“It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” he admitted and then quite deliberately turned his back on her and went over to help his Aunt.

“Aunt Pol,” he said after several moments of debating with himself.

“Yes, dear?”

“I don’t think the Lady Sharell’s who she says she is.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not completely positive, but I think she’s the Princess Ce’Nedra —the one who came into the garden when we were at the palace.”

“Yes, dear. I know.”

“You know?”

“Of course. Would you hand me the salt, please?”

“Isn’t it dangerous to have her with us?”

“Not really,” she said. “I think we can manage it.”

“Won’t she be a lot of bother?”

“An Imperial Princess is supposed to be a lot of bother, dear.” After they had eaten a savory stew which seemed to Garion quite good but which their little guest appeared to find distasteful, Jeebers began to approach a subject which had obviously been on his mind since they had first met. “Despite the best efforts of the legions, the roads are never entirely safe,” the fussy man said. “It’s imprudent to travel alone, and the Lady Sharell’s been entrusted to my care. Since I’m responsible for her safety, I was wondering if we might travel along with you. We wouldn’t be any bother, and I’d be more than happy to pay for whatever food we eat.”

Silk glanced quickly at Aunt Pol.

“Of course,” she said.

Silk looked surprised.

“There’s no reason we can’t travel together,” she went on. “We’re all going to the same place, after all.”

Silk shrugged. “Anything you say.”

Garion knew the idea was a mistake so serious that it bordered on disaster. Jeebers would not be a good traveling companion, and his pupil showed every sign of quickly becoming intolerable. She was obviously accustomed to extensive personal service, and her demands were probably made without thought. They were still demands, however, and Garion knew immediately who was most likely to be expected to attend to them. He got up and walked around to the far side of the clump of willows.