Read Online A Minstrel’s Quest (The Trouble with Magic Book 4) by B. J. Beach - Free Book Online
Authors: B. J. Beach
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over his head, and Grumas standing a couple of paces away.
Tightening his grip on the ancient gimalin, Corlin limped towards Grumas. “Wherever are we?”
Jouan, who had recovered sufficiently to look around, echoed the question, adding “I don’t recognise it.”
A flicker of impatience crossed the magician’s face as he wagged a finger. “We are in a cave in the hillside about half a mile from the castle.” He frowned. “The best thing you can do master Bentfoot is to make your way to the stables, collect your horse and get away from here.” He gestured towards the gimalin. “And take that with you. The further away from here it is, the better.”
Corlin had no chance to say anything before Jouan was tugging at his sleeve. “C’mon minstrel. I’ll help you back to the stables.”
Feeling confused, disoriented and deflated, Corlin spared the magician one more troubled glance before following the trooper to the cave’s narrow entrance and out into the night. With the aid of a strong staff, he could walk two or three miles, a distance he was used to when helping his father round up sheep and cattle. Now, he had no staff, and by the time the drunken gates of the castle came into view he was leaning heavily on Jouan and wondering about the wisdom of hanging on to the gimalin. Deliberately avoiding looking up to the upper storey of the castle he stumbled beside the trooper across the keep into the stables, and dropped onto a bale of straw, smiling wearily up at Megan as she blew at him over the rail of her stall.
Jouan sat down beside him. “I expect after all this, Corporal Rowan will give you a billet in the troops’ quarters tonight. We wake before first light, so you can break your fast and get on your way before Duke Ergwyn is about.”
Corlin stretched out his aching leg and began to unfasten the buckles and laces of his boot. “D’you think he’s gone mad?”
The trooper sounded dejected. “Almost certainly. Once he uttered that name, he left himself open for that one to control him.” His eyes glinted with pity. “It would be a mercy if the madness killed him.”
The pair sat in thoughtful silence for a few moments, then Corlin gave him a sideways glance. “You didn’t like me when we first met, did you?”
Embarrassed, his companion gave a little cough. “It wasn’t that. It’s just that Duke Ergwyn was always going on at us to be suspicious of strangers, and to be honest you did look like trouble...for a while, anyway.”
Corlin grinned as he massaged his ankle and eased his boot back on. As he fastened the straps something occurred to him. “I don’t suppose you know who sent me that note?”
Jouan looked straight at him. “Well, as you haven’t told me what was in it, I couldn’t say.”
Corlin returned the look. “It was one word, a name, which I won’t say.”
The trooper blinked. “Oh!” He said nothing more. A couple of minutes later he nudged Corlin’s arm. C’mon, let’s get some supper from the kitchen, and then I’ll find you a bed.”
Reluctant to leave the uniquely warm and peaceful atmosphere of the stable, Corlin nevertheless pushed himself to his feet. He pointed at the gimalin leaning against the end of the straw-bale. “I think I’ll leave that here. Pity I left its case behind.”
Jouan nodded. “It’ll be safe enough. I reckon it’s cursed now anyway.”
The minstrel was feeling too tired to care, and followed Jouan across the keep to the kitchens, to find what they could for supper.
The troops’ quarters were chilly, basic, and the beds little more than a thin horsehair mattress on a board, but despite the lack of comforts, Corlin slept well. It was almost daylight when he woke, and there was no sign of any of the soldiers. He had saddled Megan and was leading her out into the keep before he realised he had left the old gimalin. He went back and gave the stables a thorough search, but could find no trace of it. Deciding it was probably for
Tightening his grip on the ancient gimalin, Corlin limped towards Grumas. “Wherever are we?”
Jouan, who had recovered sufficiently to look around, echoed the question, adding “I don’t recognise it.”
A flicker of impatience crossed the magician’s face as he wagged a finger. “We are in a cave in the hillside about half a mile from the castle.” He frowned. “The best thing you can do master Bentfoot is to make your way to the stables, collect your horse and get away from here.” He gestured towards the gimalin. “And take that with you. The further away from here it is, the better.”
Corlin had no chance to say anything before Jouan was tugging at his sleeve. “C’mon minstrel. I’ll help you back to the stables.”
Feeling confused, disoriented and deflated, Corlin spared the magician one more troubled glance before following the trooper to the cave’s narrow entrance and out into the night. With the aid of a strong staff, he could walk two or three miles, a distance he was used to when helping his father round up sheep and cattle. Now, he had no staff, and by the time the drunken gates of the castle came into view he was leaning heavily on Jouan and wondering about the wisdom of hanging on to the gimalin. Deliberately avoiding looking up to the upper storey of the castle he stumbled beside the trooper across the keep into the stables, and dropped onto a bale of straw, smiling wearily up at Megan as she blew at him over the rail of her stall.
Jouan sat down beside him. “I expect after all this, Corporal Rowan will give you a billet in the troops’ quarters tonight. We wake before first light, so you can break your fast and get on your way before Duke Ergwyn is about.”
Corlin stretched out his aching leg and began to unfasten the buckles and laces of his boot. “D’you think he’s gone mad?”
The trooper sounded dejected. “Almost certainly. Once he uttered that name, he left himself open for that one to control him.” His eyes glinted with pity. “It would be a mercy if the madness killed him.”
The pair sat in thoughtful silence for a few moments, then Corlin gave him a sideways glance. “You didn’t like me when we first met, did you?”
Embarrassed, his companion gave a little cough. “It wasn’t that. It’s just that Duke Ergwyn was always going on at us to be suspicious of strangers, and to be honest you did look like trouble...for a while, anyway.”
Corlin grinned as he massaged his ankle and eased his boot back on. As he fastened the straps something occurred to him. “I don’t suppose you know who sent me that note?”
Jouan looked straight at him. “Well, as you haven’t told me what was in it, I couldn’t say.”
Corlin returned the look. “It was one word, a name, which I won’t say.”
The trooper blinked. “Oh!” He said nothing more. A couple of minutes later he nudged Corlin’s arm. C’mon, let’s get some supper from the kitchen, and then I’ll find you a bed.”
Reluctant to leave the uniquely warm and peaceful atmosphere of the stable, Corlin nevertheless pushed himself to his feet. He pointed at the gimalin leaning against the end of the straw-bale. “I think I’ll leave that here. Pity I left its case behind.”
Jouan nodded. “It’ll be safe enough. I reckon it’s cursed now anyway.”
The minstrel was feeling too tired to care, and followed Jouan across the keep to the kitchens, to find what they could for supper.
The troops’ quarters were chilly, basic, and the beds little more than a thin horsehair mattress on a board, but despite the lack of comforts, Corlin slept well. It was almost daylight when he woke, and there was no sign of any of the soldiers. He had saddled Megan and was leading her out into the keep before he realised he had left the old gimalin. He went back and gave the stables a thorough search, but could find no trace of it. Deciding it was probably for
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