The Hob's Bargain

Merewich and Kith’s father had subsided into silence.
    Kith nodded in greeting. “Wandel is saddling his horse, then we’ll leave.”
    I gave him a half-smile, but my attention was on Albrin, who turned his head aside as if he could not see me. I swallowed uncomfortably. Albrin had taught me how to ride and where the best strawberries grew in the spring.
    Merewich patted my knee, talking as if Albrin couldn’t hear him. “Give him time. I’ve talked with the priest, and he believes—as do I—that we haven’t seen the worst of this. Brother Tolleck is something of a scriptural scholar. He says there’ll be dark days ahead, and I find myself agreeing with him. Something rather worse than a few raiders. Mind that you keep your eyes open.”
    I nodded my head, turning away from Albrin to meet the old man’s eyes. “I will.”
    Wandel came from the stable with his sweet-faced, creamy-white mare, and stepped into the saddle. He moved like a man several decades younger than he was—almost like Kith. I frowned, wondering why a harper moved like a soldier.
    â€œMy dear,” he exclaimed, seeing Duck’s bridle for the first time, “what are you using for a bridle? It looks like it’s made of knotted rags.”
    I grinned at him, though the expression felt odd after so long. “It is—but it’s a hackamore, no bit. Raiders took every scrap of leather in the barn. This was the best I was able to come up with. It’s not as if Duck needs much more than a reminder now and again.”
    Duck stretched his nose toward the little mare. She let him in range, but then her small ears flattened and her eyes rolled wickedly as she snapped her teeth at him. Hurt and indignant, Duck pulled his muzzle out of harm’s reach.
    â€œThe Lass doesn’t like other horses,” commented Wandel needlessly.
    â€œOr children,” said Merewich.
    â€œOr dogs,” added Kith with a faint smile.
    â€œOr women,” agreed the harper, who wasn’t above using his horse’s peculiarities as fodder for song—or, I could see, to defuse tension. “I had the prettiest little wife once….”
    â€œCome on,” said Kith. “If we don’t start now, he’ll be here telling stories until the sun goes down.”
    Wandel shook his head and handed his mare off to Albrin. “Aren can’t ride bareback the whole way. Let me find a saddle for her to use in the stable.”
    He came out with a saddle, blanket, and saddlebags. While I saddled Duck, he mounted his gray mare. I divided my bundle evenly between the two saddlebags he’d brought out. I walked Duck out before checking the cinch. It was a little loose, so I tightened it before mounting. I took my time, refusing to give in to the awkward silence that hung over the courtyard by hurrying.
    â€œWandel, old friend,” said Merewich, finally breaking the silence.
    The harper smiled, and gripped the elder’s hand firmly. “Until next season, then.” He turned to Kith’s father. “Albrin.”
    Albrin shook his hand, but when he turned to his son, Kith rode out without speaking.

    W E USED THE TOWN BRIDGE TO CROSS ONTO THE LORD’S side of the river. The lord’s fields were already tipped with green as the earliest of the crops sprouted, having been planted several weeks before the village’s.
    It took several miles for the horses to find a comfortable pace for traveling together. Kith’s horse was used to traveling with large groups, but the harper’s mare liked to choose her own pace. Then there was Duck. He had a ground-eating, syncopated walk that was too fast for either of the smaller horses: his alternative was the gait he used when plowing, which was too slow. Only when the animals decided that they had to travel together did things calm down.
    There were serfs in the farther fields. The manor and lands were smallish for a lord’s house, or so I’d been told. Lord Moresh had several much larger elsewhere. I didn’t know how many serfs he had to work the land because they seldom came to the village and were discouraged from conversing with the freemen, but I supposed them to be fewer than fifty.
    A work party of six men was clearing the irrigation ditches of winter’s debris. None of them looked up, though I rode less than a long stride from several of them.
    Farther on, a woman piled the burnable