Peter Beagle - Innkeeper's Song

As for the wizard, he said, almost absently, “Tell Marinesha that her kindness is not forgotten. Farewell, farewell.” He was plainly anxious to be off, and had already turned his horse again when Lukassa remembered to give her emerald ring back to Lal. Lal hesitated, looking at the ring with some longing, and then handed it over to the wizard. He shoved it unceremoniously into a pocket and touched his heels to his horse’s sides. The stallion leaped away immediately, and Tikat and Lukassa followed without a backward glance. But as they rounded the bend, the old man turned in his saddle and called loudly to me, “Your name is Vand! Remember us, Vand!”

So then there were only Lal and Soukyan and me, and my true name. Soukyan said, “A good thing he thought of it in time. His memory for such things is completely gone.”

But Lal answered, “No, that’s always been his way. Pure strolling player, to the last.” And after that there was nothing left to say, and they bade me a last goodbye and trotted away, already arguing. Both of them looked back before they passed out of sight, but it was hard to see them clearly.

Tunzi did not at all want to return to the inn. He whinnied and surged under me trying to follow the others; when I tugged on the reins to bring his head around, he danced lumbering caracoles on the path, even rearing once, which was exhausting for both of us. He turned reluctantly, just the same, and slouched along home at a disgraceful pace—I could have done as well walking and leading him. But I was crying then, and it took longer than I had thought it would, so that was as well, I suppose.

Karsh met me at the crossroad, which was nearly as astonishing as Tunzi’s insurrection. He was walking slowly when I saw him, but his voice sounded as though he had been running not long before. “I thought you might have gone with them, after all. Last-minute sort of thing.”

“I will tell you when I go,” I said. Karsh nodded and took hold of Tunzi’s bridle, but the horse snorted and pulled away, still trying to turn back. I said, “But he would have gone, and gladly too. I’ve never seen him like this in my life.”

“Well,” Karsh said. He shrugged heavily and began leading Tunzi along the path to The Gaff and Slasher. “Even fat old white geldings have dreams. Surprising sometimes.”

I dismounted after a little while, because it felt strange to be riding while Karsh walked beside me. We did not speak until we were close enough to the inn to hear cocks crowing, the outside pump squeaking, and Gatti Jinni wailing to heaven about something or other. I said, “My true name is Vand.” Karsh tried it over once or twice, without expression. I said, “You can go on calling me Rosseth, if you like, until I leave. It doesn’t make any difference.”

Karsh shook his head. “It matters,” he grunted. “Vand. If that’s your name, that’s your name. Vand.” Tunzi smelled breakfast, and began to walk faster.