Read Online A Minstrel’s Quest (The Trouble with Magic Book 4) by B. J. Beach - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: B. J. Beach
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the best, although he felt some regret at losing such a rare and beautiful instrument, he rode out of the castle gates and without looking back headed for the city of Tregwald. On the other side of the city lay the infamous Whispering Forest, but that was at least two days’ ride away, and he’d worry about that when he got there.
11 - An Alarum and an Alibi
The road to the city of Tregwald wound through an abandoned hamlet, a couple of small woods and a tidy little village where some public-spirited inhabitant sent a large mastiff to ensure that Corlin didn’t inadvertently stray from the road or have a sudden desire to go sight-seeing. The minstrel hoped the citizens of Tregwald would be a bit more neighbourly. With the city within shouting distance he was forced to urge Megan into a gallop, eliciting a loud but genial cussing from the watchman who was just closing the city gates as Corlin thundered through. The heavy gates boomed shut behind him and he eased Megan to a walk, wondering whether it might be his good fortune to one day arrive somewhere before nightfall. There were plenty of people about and he leaned down from the saddle to ask a cloaked figure wearing a feather-trimmed hat where he might find an inn for the night.
The figure stopped, turned to look up at him and cheekily tipped the brim of his hat. Corlin nearly fell off Megan’s broad back into the street as Otty grinned up at him.
“Well met master Bentfoot. I trust you had a good journey.”
Corlin returned the grin and scrambled out of the saddle. “Well met yourself! You’re the last person I expected to see. What brings you here?”
The stocky man gestured up ahead. “Let’s get you and your mare settled in somewhere, and I’ll tell you the story, such as it is...er...that’s if you’re not just passing through.”
The minstrel looked about him as they ambled along the narrow cobbled street. “Nowhere too expensive. I haven’t got much left in the way of coin.”
Otty glanced back at Megan’s saddle. “Is that a gimalin I can see bundled up on there?”
Corlin nodded. “It is, and I’ve got a story to tell you about that too.” He missed a step as his companion suddenly turned off down a side street. He led Megan round the turn, taking a few fast hobbling steps to catch up. “Are we going far, because if we are I’m getting back in the saddle.”
Otty grinned and pointed across and further down the street where light spilled out of a wide window and an open door, turning the damp cobbles to pewter. “That’s our lodging for the night. It’s not much different to ‘The Red Dog’, just a bit bigger.”
With Megan comfortably stabled next to a good-looking chestnut cob, and two of his precious pennies in the ostler’s fist, Corlin unstrapped his gimalin, slung it across his back and followed Otty into the inn. The innkeeper, a broad-shouldered mountain of a man with hands like hams, watched the pair as they eased past the half-dozen customers and up to the bar.
He nodded to Otty and looked Corlin up and down. “Good evening sir. What’ll be your pleasure?”
Corlin returned the greeting and looked along the bar. “A tankard of ale and a bed for the night if you would, landlord.”
The man reached for a clean tankard and began to fill it. “It’s Willem, sir, Willem Trewidden. The ale I have sir, but I’m afraid there’s no rooms left.” He placed the full tankard on the bar-top, then looked over Corlin’s shoulder at Otty. “Are you together sir?”
Corlin’s brow furrowed. “Well, yes. Why?”
The barman gave a satisfied smile. “Problem solved then. Your friend has two cots in his room. If you don’t mind sharing, it’ll only cost you a halfpenny.”
Otty shrugged as Corlin turned and raised a questioning eyebrow. “I don’t mind, if you don’t.”
With the matter settled and his dues paid, Corlin made his way to a bench at the far side of the room and was just slipping the gimalin off his
11 - An Alarum and an Alibi
The road to the city of Tregwald wound through an abandoned hamlet, a couple of small woods and a tidy little village where some public-spirited inhabitant sent a large mastiff to ensure that Corlin didn’t inadvertently stray from the road or have a sudden desire to go sight-seeing. The minstrel hoped the citizens of Tregwald would be a bit more neighbourly. With the city within shouting distance he was forced to urge Megan into a gallop, eliciting a loud but genial cussing from the watchman who was just closing the city gates as Corlin thundered through. The heavy gates boomed shut behind him and he eased Megan to a walk, wondering whether it might be his good fortune to one day arrive somewhere before nightfall. There were plenty of people about and he leaned down from the saddle to ask a cloaked figure wearing a feather-trimmed hat where he might find an inn for the night.
The figure stopped, turned to look up at him and cheekily tipped the brim of his hat. Corlin nearly fell off Megan’s broad back into the street as Otty grinned up at him.
“Well met master Bentfoot. I trust you had a good journey.”
Corlin returned the grin and scrambled out of the saddle. “Well met yourself! You’re the last person I expected to see. What brings you here?”
The stocky man gestured up ahead. “Let’s get you and your mare settled in somewhere, and I’ll tell you the story, such as it is...er...that’s if you’re not just passing through.”
The minstrel looked about him as they ambled along the narrow cobbled street. “Nowhere too expensive. I haven’t got much left in the way of coin.”
Otty glanced back at Megan’s saddle. “Is that a gimalin I can see bundled up on there?”
Corlin nodded. “It is, and I’ve got a story to tell you about that too.” He missed a step as his companion suddenly turned off down a side street. He led Megan round the turn, taking a few fast hobbling steps to catch up. “Are we going far, because if we are I’m getting back in the saddle.”
Otty grinned and pointed across and further down the street where light spilled out of a wide window and an open door, turning the damp cobbles to pewter. “That’s our lodging for the night. It’s not much different to ‘The Red Dog’, just a bit bigger.”
With Megan comfortably stabled next to a good-looking chestnut cob, and two of his precious pennies in the ostler’s fist, Corlin unstrapped his gimalin, slung it across his back and followed Otty into the inn. The innkeeper, a broad-shouldered mountain of a man with hands like hams, watched the pair as they eased past the half-dozen customers and up to the bar.
He nodded to Otty and looked Corlin up and down. “Good evening sir. What’ll be your pleasure?”
Corlin returned the greeting and looked along the bar. “A tankard of ale and a bed for the night if you would, landlord.”
The man reached for a clean tankard and began to fill it. “It’s Willem, sir, Willem Trewidden. The ale I have sir, but I’m afraid there’s no rooms left.” He placed the full tankard on the bar-top, then looked over Corlin’s shoulder at Otty. “Are you together sir?”
Corlin’s brow furrowed. “Well, yes. Why?”
The barman gave a satisfied smile. “Problem solved then. Your friend has two cots in his room. If you don’t mind sharing, it’ll only cost you a halfpenny.”
Otty shrugged as Corlin turned and raised a questioning eyebrow. “I don’t mind, if you don’t.”
With the matter settled and his dues paid, Corlin made his way to a bench at the far side of the room and was just slipping the gimalin off his
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