The Knave of Souls - Fantasy - Sequel to The Jack of Souls

Chapter 20

A cleaved head delivers no messages.

—Shield motto of House Myles, East Isle

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LOOT, LOSS & LOYALTY

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"Put it out!" Caris cried. With her hands she scooped loam and soil from between roots and cast it on the flames, and Harric and Brolli joined her. The loam sizzled and popped like rice in a pan, but it snuffed the flames. Some of the sticks in the loam caught fire, but Caris kept smothering it with more. Her eyes had flown wide with panic.

Harric ran to the priest and when he returned with the half-full wine skin, Caris had stumbled away down the trail. As he dribbled wine on the smoking soil he watched as she held her hands to her ears and blundering away, bowing rhythmically. Brolli stared after her, brow wrinkled. At least Willard isn't here to scowl at her, Brolli could be forgiven for being unfamiliar with her horse-touched episodes, but sometimes Harric wanted to shake the old knight.

But as he squirted wine at a flame that had popped up in the loam, he had to scold himself. Maybe the problem is you, Harric. She was coping fine. She'd probably gone off to collect the scattered horses, which she knows would help calm her. She didn't need Harric's protection; she could handle the old man in her own way. In fact, she was managing her status with her mentor a lot better than Harric was. Best worry about his own sorry standing.

Mud steamed and bubbled in Mudruffle's joints.

Brolli lifted his daylids and peered down at the half-buried tryst servant. "He took the fire with him."

Harric gave him a hard look and glanced after Caris to be sure she didn't hear. "You think he's dead?"

Brolli gave him a look of surprise. "I do not know. But he took the fire. To protect the old woman, I think. This is why your queen brings them here, yes?"

"Yes. I'd never seen it before, but they use the Bright Mother's power to prevent fire."

Brolli nodded. "At some cost, it seem."

Harric nodded. He wondered if Abellia had been there too, that her nexus would have made it easier on Mudruffle. Without it, he'd burst into flame, and used up his little constructed body. Harric peered under the brim of Mudruffle's tricorn hat. The button eyes shone dull in the gray morning light. Inert. Unmoving. Dead? Could a golem die?

A squeeze of loss and worry visited Harric's chest.

"I think if we had not fought the fire," said Brolli, "it would have been harder for him to stop it. Maybe too much. Maybe he would burst like his staff."

Harric scooped more cooling soil on the golem. He dribbled the last drops of wine over him. He felt like a witch casting a spell to raise the dead. "He saddled Molly, too," he said, wondering at the little creature's resourcefulness. "He saved us."

Brolli climbed to his feet. "Come. We have done what we can. Gather the horses. Then we bring Mudruffle to Abellia. I will find Idgit in the meadow."

Brolli left, and when Harric stood, he found Caris approaching from the trees, leading two of the spooked horses. A set of reins in each hand, she stared forward, eyes distant, calm. He felt a wave of pride for her. Give her a horse and she could handle anything.

"We should ride back," Caris said. Her gaze remained distant, attention inward. She handed Harric the reins of a big black destrier with a look in its eyes so ugly he was certain that without her horse-touched influence it would have tasted him already.