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Garron mounted his horse, still holding Merry against him. He let her be for several minutes, then slapped her face. “Come on, wake up. One moment you are a hero and then you collapse like an empty goat bladder.”
“I am not a goat bladder.”
He grinned over her head as he clicked Damocles forward.
“Oh dear, I did not really faint, did I?”
“You fell to the ground like a rock.” And he began whistling.
“It is not fair. I am a hero.”
19
It could all have ended so differently, she kept thinking, and found herself again rubbing where the man’s knife had pressed against her throat. To distract herself, she began chanting a recipe for curing loose bowels from Leech Book of Bald. Everything had turned out all right. She and Garron were both fine, and they were now nearing home.
Only days, she thought, since she’d been kidnapped by Sir Halric and his three villains. Yet it was beginning to feel distant, just as Valcourt and her life there was receding with each passing hour. She looked up to see the sun had disappeared, locked behind darkening clouds. The afternoon was growing colder, and she shivered.
She pulled her cloak tightly around her and drew Satan closer to Damocles. “How did those three men know?”
Garron said matter-of-factly, “In all the towns we’ve visited, everyone knew about the Black Demon’s attack on Wareham and why. Someone realized he could make a lot of silver and so he hired the three men, though his selection did not show particular intelligence on his part. But he did have to act quickly.”
“Or it could have been someone in Wareham who knew where we were going.”
“Aye, so it could. I dislike traitors. I really do.”
Merry said without thought, “I saw Sir Lyle speaking to his man Solan, and then Solan disappeared.”
A black brow shot up as Garron turned to look at her. “What is this? You doubt Sir Lyle, believe he is the traitor?”
“There is something about him I do not trust.”
“What is that?”
“I am not sure how to say it. I suppose it is the way he looks at you.”
“I am a stranger to him. He doubtless looks at me because he wants to gain my measure. The king himself sent Sir Lyle to me.” His voice sharpened. “Has he bothered you?”
“Nay, but he does not like me either.”
“How do you know this?”
“Come, you can always tell when another doesn’t like you. He looks at me like he doesn’t trust me and his eyes are always so cold.”
“Mayhap he does not trust you, Merry. Mayhap he realizes, just as I did, that you are no priest’s byblow, and he fears you will try to harm me.”
“For anyone to think I could hurt you—that is idiocy.”
“Aye, it is. I could wring your neck as easily as a chicken’s.”
She wanted to strangle him. “That is not what I meant and you know it. This is not a jest, Garron.”
“Aye, I know it.”
“This is very serious.”
He gave her a small smile. “After what you did to that lout who stuck his knife to your neck, I suppose I must now take care around you.”
Her shoulders went back, her chin up, and his smile grew just a bit. “Aye, I did well, did I not?” She said very deliberately, “My father taught me. He told me kicking a man just there would stop even a giant in his tracks. And he laughed at that. I had never tried it before.” Lie, lie. “It worked. I have proven myself to you, to your men.” She flung out her arms. “I have proven myself to the world.”
