Mastiff (23 page)

“How shall we do this?” Lady Sabine asked from behind us. We turned to look at her and Tunstall. The ship was coming into dock on the bank of the Halseander, sailors leaping down to tie her off as others lowered the anchors. Once the ship was steady, the horses’ gangplank was set out, and the great horses were led safely to land.

“We need mounts and packhorses, and we must check in with the Deputy Provost,” Tunstall explained, watching my lady as she took charge of Drummer and Steady. “We’ll need the latest reports from her trackers. Supplies, too.”

I saw movement at the warehouse that stood open nearby. Three Dogs in uniform walked out of it leading horses, three with riding saddles, seven with pack saddles. Two of the packhorses were already laden—supplies, I was near certain.

Tunstall smiled. “We’re expected.” Picking up as many of Lady Sabine’s packs as he could lift in addition to his own, he went to meet the local Dogs. Master Farmer gathered the rest of the packs as I tucked Pounce into the top of my shoulder kit. I had given up putting Achoo on a leash years ago. She never strayed from her position just off my left side when we were in a new place, just as now.

As Master Farmer and I settled our packs on the mounts that would carry them and chose riding horses, I listened to the local Dogs report to Tunstall.

“—didn’t get the rain folk that’s come upriver complain of,” the corporal said. “Been dry, so the farmers are tellin’ us. They’re sellin’ off children to pay the tax.”

“Not getting much for them, either,” one of the others, a mot, said. “The littles are bone skinny, half dead.”

“There’s a crazy hedgewitch, gets drunk off Market Circle,” said one, a Senior Dog. “She told any that would listen all our rain was stolen by a southern mage. She said she’d put a blood curse on ’im. We escorted her home—” He interrupted himself to say, “Now
that’s
a fine piece of horseflesh, there. Who’s the noble?”

Tunstall started to frown, so I kicked him in the ankle. Lady Sabine could handle disrespect if she felt she needed to.

“The destrier is called Drummer,” Farmer told the Senior Dog. “The palfrey’s Steady. And that is my lady Sabine of Macayhill, who’s well beyond loose-tongued folk!” Any other cove might have gotten the back of the Senior Dog’s hand for that, but the cheerfulness in Master Farmer’s eye and the Dog insignia hanging on his chest just made these tough woods Dogs grin or nudge him. They bowed as Sabine approached.

“Good evening to you,” she said, letting Tunstall hold Steady, who was saddled for riding. “Now, if one of these fine packhorses is for my things—oh, splendid, she’s all ready! I just need to put her on a string with my Drummer, here.”

While the Dogs eagerly offered their help, I noticed familiar signs in Achoo. I motioned for Tunstall’s attention and pointed to a corner a little way down the street in the long shadows to let him know we were moving back. He nodded, familiar with our routine. Away my hound and I trotted, staying clear of those who were ending their day’s labors.

Achoo took care of her business. Then she sniffed around, learning about everyone else who had favored that spot, or so I supposed. I looked back at our welcoming party. Everyone was chatting, building good will with the locals. When I turned back to Achoo, I found she had moved away from me. She was casting, sniffing back and forth an inch above the ground. She trotted a yard down the street, then another.

“Achoo?” I called quietly.

She replied with a near-silent whuff, one that meant “Don’t bother me, I’m busy.”

“Achoo!” I said a little louder.

She sneezed. Her tail began to wag furiously. Then she sneezed twice more. She was on a track, her nose right at her own height, on a proper scent. There was only one scent that she was supposed to be chasing right now, and she had it.

“Achoo,
berhenti
!” I cried. She halted and looked back at me, whining her protest. She wanted to chase that scent
now
.

“Tunstall!” I shouted.
“Tunstall!”
He faced me. I pointed to Achoo. Even in that light I could see Tunstall’s eyebrows go up. He ran to me, Master Farmer and the lady at his heels. I reached into the side pocket on my shoulder pack and brought out the sealed bag with the prince’s sample in it.

“She has a scent?” Tunstall asked when he reached us. “She has
that
scent?” He tapped a finger against his lips to warn me to speak carefully.

I held the cloth lure to Achoo, who sniffed it and danced, panting eagerly. She sneezed again. I put the lure in my pack. This way I didn’t have to say anything to Tunstall. Achoo had done so for me.

Now came the local Dogs with the horses. “How shall we manage this?” Lady Sabine asked. “We must still report to the Deputy Provost to find out if her people are already on this path and whether or not more information has come from the capital.”

Master Farmer was doing something with the horses. He said nothing.

“The Deputy Provost did say you was to report to her as soon as you docked.” The corporal’s voice was apologetic, but firm.

Tunstall took a deep breath. “Cooper, Farmer, you’re on the scent. Now’s the time to learn if your tags work, Farmer.”

“I’m hurt that you’d think they’d fail. Hurt,” Master Farmer told Tunstall, sorrow in his voice and eyes. He brought the horses forward. Now I saw what he’d been doing. He’d been tying his packhorse and mine into a string. “Cooper, will you ride?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’d like to stay on the ground with her, for a while, anyway.” I took off my shoulder pack, which I’d donned before leaving the ship, and retrieved my stone lamp. The bits of white crystal speckled throughout the gray stone burned as brightly as they had when Master Farmer first lit the rock up. I tucked it in my pocket and put my pack back on as Tunstall murmured to someone behind me.

A local Dog went over to a nearby ship and talked with one of the officers. Coins changed hands as Lady Sabine and Tunstall spoke quietly together.

Set me on one of the packhorses
, Pounce ordered.
You know I hate it when you run
. I transferred my entire pack to the horse who looked to be the calmer of the two. Pounce was usually good with horses, but I liked to be careful, for the sakes of the horse and of my friend.

The Dog who’d done business at the ship returned with a burning lantern. “He won’t get in trouble with his captain?” my lady asked.

The Dog grinned. “He
is
the captain, my lady,” he replied. “And I paid him twice what this is worth, fresh filled and all.” Master Farmer took the lantern as Tunstall tied my own saddled mount into Master Farmer’s string. All this while Achoo had been whining, half out of her nob with eagerness.

“Go,” Tunstall ordered. “We’ve got the Dog tags. We’ll catch up.”

I didn’t wait to hear any more. “
Maji, maji
, Achoo!” I said. Off she went, sniffing the air that carried the prince’s scent. I followed her, steadying into a run. She turned down a long street beside the heights that guarded the town. She took no turns that would lead to the gates of Arenaver. Whoever had the prince, they had not entered the city.

The road began to climb the riverbank and the sky got darker. We finally passed the great gates, running parallel to the road between the city and the count’s castle. About a mile past the city walls Achoo led me off the dock road. Here was a grassy area that had been torn up by a multitude of wagons. Plenty of animal dung was smashed there by feet and wheels. Beyond this hitching place Achoo sniffed her way across grass that was pressed flat and covered with fruit and vegetable husks, gnawed bones, ends of ribbon and scraps of cloth, tags of leather, heaps of wood shavings, and patches of grease. She was circling a place that had been well pissed and shit on.

“It was a fair, don’t you think?” Master Farmer had halted the mounts just inside the range of my stone lamp. The light from his lantern doubled the area I could see.

“Two days ago,” I said as Achoo sneezed and moved away from the spot where several people were kept for hours with no privy at hand. “The piss is dry, the dung mostly so.”

“A country matter,” he said. I looked up. The air around him sparkled. “Small charms, amulets, talismans were being sold, potions and herbs.” The sparkles brightened. I looked away to keep my sight from being affected even more than it was already by our lanterns. “Hah!” Master Farmer said, satisfaction in his voice. “There’s the great Gift, or Gifts. Two powerful mages stood here.” He pointed. “Looking at the slave area. Hmm.” He looked at the patch of grass and dirt that had caught Achoo’s attention.

Now my hound ran onto the road. “Is something wrong?” I asked Master Farmer as I kept an eye on her.

“Thought-provoking, not wrong. Do you need a horse yet?” he asked.

“No—I can run for hours,” I replied. Achoo had almost reached the trees.

“Go!” he ordered. “I’ll catch up. This will be but a moment and some magic. The mages who travel with the slaves—I can gather samples of their Gifts.”

I would have liked to hear more, but Achoo was off. I left him there and raced to get her in view. We continued for two miles down the riverside road, where we found a ferry landing. Achoo ran onto the dock where a flat-bottomed boat lay at anchor, and whined, sniffing it over. Seeing a ferry parked on the other side of the dock, she jumped onto it.

“Hey!” a man yelled. “If she pisses in there, you’ll pay for the cleaning of it!” A broad fellow stood in the door of the ferryman’s house, a club in his hand.

I trotted up to the ferry, wondering if he’d charged his loads of goats, horses, chickens, and pigs for cleaning, too. From the odor, mayhap he had. The planks smelled of strong soap, though the scrubbing could not do away entirely with the animal reek.

“Moonhead! Chase! Brushtail!” The ferryman, or guard, put two fingers to his mouth and blew a whistle that hurt my ears. Three hounds scrambled into view, big ones, ready to fight for their master.

I held up my stone lamp and pulled out my insignia. “Ferryman, if you’d used your eyes, you’d’ve seen I wear the uniform of the Provost’s Guard. That’s a scent hound in your ferry, and we’re on a Hunt.”

The ferryman walked forward. I released my insignia and gripped my baton in case the cove decided to dance a set with me. Instead he halted two feet back and squinted at my insignia. Achoo, noting that a stranger had come too close to me, raced to my side and waited there, hackles up.

“If you’re a Dog, what’re you doin’ out here by yourself?” the cove asked. I could smell ale on his breath.

“Following my hound. The rest of my Hunt’s catching up,” I said. “We’re following a party with a small boy, four years or so.”

He snorted. “Good luck to you. Between the families and the fair merchants and the slave caravans that’ve crossed these last six days, you’ve a lot of folk to speak with! We just had the Strawberry Fair. Folk come for miles to buy and sell. I have to hire extra asides my boys and me.”

I looked about for his “boys,” not liking the thought that they might be stealing up behind me.

“Not here,” the ferryman said as if he knew my mind. “They have work in the city, they told me. ‘Work!’ says I. ‘Public houses, like as not!’ But they labored hard on the barges, so I don’t begrudge them.”

I had his measure by then. After four years of Dog work, I’d learned to weigh folk and judge how much harm they had in them. This cove would be a hard customer if I tried to take advantage of him, but he’d prove no trouble if I was honest. “Achoo,
bau
,” I ordered.

She hesitated, but she went to sniff the second boat she’d inspected. The ferryman’s hounds watched, but they did not interfere or move from his side. Once Achoo had gone over the ferry again, she sneezed heartily. Our quarry had crossed the Halseander in that one.

“I’ll need you to take me over,” I told the cove.

He looked down at me. “No more will I, till others come!” he said, cross as a wayward rooster. “Take a bit of a wench like you across, and no one else? You’ll wait for more passengers, mistress, even if it takes till dawn! I’m not a lad. I’m a father with a bad back!”

I did understand, but I wouldn’t delay, at least, not after Master Farmer came. “I expect my partner shortly,” I said. “And our horses.
And
we’ll pay, though by law we don’t have to. You needn’t have kittens over it.”

The ferryman spat on the ground. “If you’ve a partner and horses. Why couldn’t you have come earlier, when there were more folk crossing?”

I glared at him. “Because I wasn’t
here
then. And they say we mots complain!”

I saw a lantern’s approach, above the ground.
Pounce?
I called silently, so as not to bother the nervous cove.
Is that you?

Me, and Farmer, the horses, and some fleas
. Pounce’s voice came back to me.
You seem to be enjoying yourself
.

I snorted and went to the side of the road, where I saw a number of stones. I began to put down a trail sign that would let Tunstall know we had crossed the river on the ferry. I was almost done when Master Farmer and the horses drew up. “Trail sign?” he asked. “You don’t trust my Dog tags. My feelings are shattered. Just … shattered.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What a folly lad you are,” I told him. “If I
don’t
leave it, even with Dog tags, Tunstall will worry that something’s happened to me—and to you, for that matter.”

“That’s so lovely of him,” Master Farmer told me as he slid from his horse. “And I was thinking he didn’t like me.” Sounding much more official, he turned to the local cove. “Ferryman, we need to cross sooner rather than later, I think.” Master Farmer looked at me. “I take it the scent brought Achoo to the ferry?”

“She even chose a boat,” I said, pointing. I went over to Pounce, enthroned on horseback, and scratched his ears.

“Well, let’s go,” the ferryman said. “I’d like my sleep yet tonight.”

He grumbled, of course, when we chose not the boat that was ready, but the one that held Achoo. I thought we would have to listen to him all the way across the river, but Master Farmer slipped him a silver coin. Seemingly that was all the cove wanted, because he fell silent.