Barnaby the Wanderer

Chapter 4: Stars, Scars, Trips, Ships

The Society of St. Benefact made camp within sight of the road, where a line of trees provided shelter from wind off the river. The two mules grazed at peace, disinterested in discussing the day's sad turn.

"It seemed clever at the time," said Bodkin, poking the campfire with a stick. "Amusing, in fact. And Barnaby's an easy-going sort. Saint's truth, I expected him to laugh."

"He had no business calling our venture off," insisted Val to the flames. "It was for all to decide."

"Ah, he didn't like looking foolish," said Matilda. "Spoils a boy's mirror to think the ladies have been laughing at what he was up to with a head full of wine."

Cedric sat far from the fire, his back against a tree, staring up at evening stars. None knew he listened, till he spoke.

"Barnaby is quite used to looking foolish, Whether in his mirror, or the eyes of others. That is not what hurt him."

"What then?" That, from Val.

The answer came in tone of sad reflection.

"The realization that we tricked him."

Val took Thelxipea up from the ground. He gave me this, she thought. Put it in what he thought was my grave. Carried it about, hoping to give it to me.

She strummed a few notes. It came out discordant, angry, tangled. The sound made her furious. Whose side are you on? she demanded of the harp.

She set the traitorous thing down again, observing aloud. "We treated him fair. In St. Martia, if you flee battle the punishment is death. Not being tied up drunk."

"Not the same," said Jewel. "He thought he was leading us towards danger without reason."

"If we decide to go, what right has he to cry 'halt'?"

If you care about folk, you have the right, thought Jewel. But kept silent. What good saying it? Clearly the bard felt hurt and angry. Like Bodkin, she'd expected the miller to just grin, praise his friends' clever trick.

Jewel recalled stealing Barnaby's lunch. It hadn't troubled her. That was witch-work. But tricking him out of the promised kiss had been mean. She'd left him staring at the pebble, puzzled as puppy expecting a pat, getting a kick.

"He went north," observed Bodkin. "Maybe we'll catch up when he's in a better mood."

"Well, he'd best walk careful," declared Matilda. "The river road isn't used much nowadays, nor patrolled. Too many nasty things in the river and the ruins from all them wars."

"Dangerous?"

"Hmm, not for a cautious company. But not the best way north for anyone traveling alone."

"Barnaby has his axe, his magic cat, his ghost and his luck," said Bodkin. "He'll do fine."

"You think he's still going to the tower?"

Everyone looked to Cedric. Who only shook his clerical head.

"I don't know what he will do. I doubt he knows himself."

"Question is, what do we do?" asked Matilda. She alone seemed to retain cheerful spirit. "Go on, or give it up?"

"We go on," said Bodkin.

"You still have the map?"

"The copy. He'll find the original in his pack."

"That won't make him any happier," said Jewel. "He'll realize you picked his pocket, gave him a roll of trash to burn. Which tells him we planned it all before his noble announcement."