Terry Goodkind - The Pillars of Creation

She had learned earlier, though, that the men weren’t the threat she had thought. She was somewhat humbled by how wrong she had been about them. Where before she had seen thieves and cutthroats, she now saw farmers, craftsmen, laborers, joining together for company, companionship, and some harmless recreation.

Still, there were killers somewhere close this night. After seeing Lathea, there could be no doubt of that. Jennsen could never have imagined that anyone could be that perverted. She knew that if they caught her, they would eventually do those kinds of things to her, too, before she was allowed to die.

She felt her stomach roil with nausea at the vivid memory of what she had seen. She held back her tears, but she needed the air of outdoors and the solitude of the night.

As she and Sebastian wound their way through the crowd and toward that air, she bumped into a big man as they crossed paths. Stopped by the human wall, she looked up into the handsome face. She remembered him. He was the man they had seen on the road to Lathea’s place, earlier.

He lifted his cap in greeting. “Evening.” He grinned at her.

“Good evening,” she said. She told herself to smile, and make it believable, normal. She wasn’t sure if she was doing a good job of it, but he seemed to find it convincing.

He didn’t act as shy as she thought he had seemed before. Even the way he carried himself, his movements, were more sure. Maybe it was just that her smile was working as she had hoped.

“You two look like you could use a drink.” When Jennsen frowned, not knowing what the man meant, he gestured at her face, and then at Sebastian. “Your noses are red with the cold. May I buy you an ale on this chill night?”

Before Sebastian could accept, which she feared he might, she said, “Thank you, no. We have to go . . . to check on some business. But it was very kind of you to offer.” She made herself smile again. “Thank you.”

The way the man stared at her made her nervous. The thing was, she found herself staring back into his blue eyes just as intently, and she didn’t know why. Finally, she broke the gaze and, after a bow of her head to bid the big man a good night, made her way toward the door.

“Something about him look familiar?” she whispered to Sebastian.

“Yes. We saw him earlier, out on the streets, when we were on our way to Lathea’s house.”

She looked back over her shoulder, peering between the milling throng. “I guess maybe that’s all it is, then.”

Before she went out the door, the man, as if he sensed her looking at him, turned. When their eyes met, and he smiled, it was as if no one else existed for either of them. His smile was polite, no more, but it made her go cold and tingly all over, the way the dead voice in her head sometimes did. There was something frightening familiar about the feeling she got looking at him, and the way he looked at her. Something about the look in his eyes reminded her of the voice.

It was as if she remembered him from a deep dream she had completely forgotten until that very instant. The sight of him, in her awake life, left her . . . shaken.

She was relieved to make it out into the empty night and be on their way. She bundled her cloak’s hood close around her face, against the bitter wind, as they hurried across the snow and down the street. Her thighs stung with the cold. She was glad the stable was not far, but she knew that would be only a brief respite. It was going to be a long cold night, but there was no choice. Lord Rahl’s men were too close. They had to run.

While Sebastian went to rouse the stableman, Jennsen squeezed through the barn door. A lantern hanging from a beam provided enough light for her to make her way to the pen where Betty was tied up for the night. The shelter from the wind, along with the warm bodies of the horses and the sweet smell of hay and dusty wood, made the stable a cozy haven.

Betty bleated plaintively when she saw Jennsen, as if she feared she had been abandoned for all time. Betty’s upright tail was a happy blur as Jennsen sank to one knee and hugged the goat’s neck. Jennsen stood and stroked her hand along the silken ears, a touch Betty mooned over. As the horse in the next stall put her head over the rail to watch her stablemate, Betty stood on her hind legs, joyful to be reunited with her lifelong friend and eager to be closer.

Jennsen patted the wiry hair on Betty’s fat middle. “There’s a good girl.” She urged the lovable goat down. “Glad to see you, too, Betty.”

Jennsen, at ten, had been there for Betty’s birth, and had named her. Betty had been Jennsen’s only childhood friend, and had listened patiently to any number of worries and fears. When her short horns first began to come in, Betty had in turn rubbed and comforted her head against her faithful friend. Other than her worry of being abandoned by her lifelong companion, Betty’s fears in life were few.

Jennsen groped through her pack until her fingers located a carrot for the ever-hungry goat. Betty danced about as she watched, then with her tail wagging in excitement accepted the treat. For reassurance, after the torment of an unusual separation, she rubbed the top of her head against Jennsen’s thigh while chewing the carrot.

The horse in the next stall, her bright intelligent eyes watching, neighed softly and tossed her head. Jennsen smiled and gave the horse a carrot along with a rub on her white blaze.

Jennsen heard the jangle of tack as Sebastian returned, along with the stableman, both carrying saddles. Each man, in turn, laid his load over the rail of Betty’s stall. Betty, still wary of Sebastian, backed a few steps.

“Sorry to lose the company of your friend, there,” the man said, indicating the goat, as he came up beside Sebastian.

Jennsen scratched Betty’s ears. “I appreciate her care.”

“Not much care. The night isn’t over.” The man’s gaze shifted from Sebastian to Jennsen. “Why do you two want to leave in the night, anyway? And why do you want to buy horses? Especially at this hour?”

Jennsen froze in panic. She hadn’t expected to have anyone question her and so she had no answer prepared.

“It’s my mother,” Sebastian said in a confidential tone. He let out a convincing sigh. “We just got word that she’s taken ill. They don’t know if she’ll last until we can get there. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t . . . Well, we’ll just have to make it in time, that’s all.”

The man’s suspicious expression softened with sympathy. Jennsen was surprised at how credible Sebastian sounded. She tried to imitate his look of concern.

“I understand, son. I’m sorry—I didn’t realize. What can I do to help?”

“Which two horses can you sell us?” Sebastian asked.

The man scratched his whiskered chin. “You going to leave the goat?”

Sebastian said “Yes” at the same time Jennsen said “No.”

The man’s big dark eyes looked from one to the other.

“Betty won’t slow us down,” Jennsen said. “She can keep up. We’ll make it to your mother just the same.”

Sebastian leaned a hip against the rail. “I guess the goat will be leaving with us.”

With a sigh of disappointment, the man gestured to the horse Jennsen was scratching behind the ear. “Rusty, here, gets on well with that goat of yours. I guess she’d be as good to sell as any of the others. You’re a tall girl, so she would fit you well.”

Jennsen nodded her agreement. Betty, as if she had understood every word, bleated hers.

“I have a strong chestnut gelding that would better carry your weight,” he said to Sebastian. “Pete’s down the way, there, on the right. I’d be willing to let you have him along with Rusty, here.”