Page 47 of I Ran Away to Evil 2
Granted, his low voice was smooth and comforting. That beastman knew how to talk to a woman—horse. Female. Of the equestrian variety. He knew how to talk tomares.
Brownie turned her attention back to the stable hand, crossing her arms and glaring at him.
When Rufus had appeared in the spot between Donna and the unfortunate stable hand, the stable hand had been forced to vacate the space to somewhere else.
Which was just a nice way of saying he’d been laid on his rear.
“Are you the owner of thatbeast?” the stable hand demanded, climbing to his feet and rubbing his shoulder.
“She isn’t my owner, no,” Rufus quipped. Bronwynn let out a very unbecoming snort. “Do you always call the duke’s guests by their race?”
The man’s head snapped back like he’d been struck.
“That ismyhorse,” Brownie interjected, knowing the words would irritate Donna but accepting her fate. She stepped forward and demanded, “What gave you the right to treatmymare like some pack animal to be muzzled?”
“If she’s your animal, then you probably already know,” the stable hand accused, his voice acidic. “She’s aterror, and she ate our Bensen’s prized oats!” He waved wildly at a container deeper in the stable hall with its lid open and the oats in question pilfered. An open lock dangled from the lid latch.
Brownie resisted the urge to glare at her horse, instead activating [Liar’s Palace].
[You have attempted to use the Perk:Liar’s Palace. You have succeeded. +2 Charisma. Anyone with a Rogue Skill equal to or greater than yours may see through your lie. Anyone with a Perception equal to or higher than your Level 31 +Informant6 Skill will be able to see through your fabrication. All others will recognize that you believe what you are saying. This Perk is in effect for Charisma 23 x Level 31.]
[Liar’s Palaceremaining time 00:11:56]
[Liar’s Palaceremaining time 00:11:55]
Brownie scoffed, pointing at the box. “So you are punishingmy horsebecauseyoudidn’t lock up the expensive oats?”
“What?! Of course I locked that box. Your horse must’ve …” He trailed off. After a look of sheer frustration played across his features, he decided to push through. “Your horse picked the lock while I wasn’t looking!”
“I’m confused.” Brownie crossed her arms and stared down at the young man. “You are telling me thatmy horsepickedthat lock.”
The stable hand turned red—from anger or embarrassment, she knew not—but before he could say anything, a loud voice called out, “Here now, Jimmie, what’s happening?”
Everyone turned to the servants’ entrance and found seven liveried attendants all dressed in the same black tunic and dark gray pants that the man Brownie was arguing with sported.
“Mister Ling!” Jimmie bobbed a quick bow to the older man standing at the front of the group. His next words came out in a jumble, and the stable hand’s cheeks burned even redder. “You see, I, uh, I’m …”
“This esteemed gentleman,” Brownie stressed politely as she inwardly regretted having to throw the man under Donna’s metaphorical carriage, “claims that myhorsepicked that lock.”
The eyes of everyone standing there turned to Donna, and Rufus kindly coaxed the mare out of the way so the empty wooden oat container was in full view. The lid was slung up and back, with a metal padlock ring open and dangling precariously from the lid ring.
“She must’ve!” Jimmie exclaimed, panicking as his fellow hostlers started to give him strange looks. “I locked the box myself after feeding Bensen. Then I tied the mare in the hall while I finished getting clean water, and I come out to findthis oneeating the good oats!”
“Jimmie.” Mister Ling looked like he had some mix of fae and fair about him. Old but ageless, his voice soft and firm.
The young stable hand let out a breath and made an exasperated sound. Quieter, rebellious, he mumbled, “It’strue.”
“Mister Ling?” Brownie stepped forward to the senior attendant. “I don’t want there to be any trouble, so I will pay for the oats. Jimmie was injured by my horse and might just need some time to rest.”
Mister Ling raised a single eyebrow, appraising her and her horse. “Are you sure, miss?”
“I’m sure.” She pulled out a silver coin, more than enough to cover for high-quality feed, and used her thumb to flick the coin. Mister Ling caught it in the air. Brownie turned to Jimmie and pulled out one of her low-grade healing potions then handed it to the startled stable hand.
She kept her few potions and most of her wealth in the spatial storage ring on her right pinkie finger. It wasn’t the kind of thing a regular bard would have—the ring cost more than her house back in Drendil. A fan she’d met in Servalt gave it to her, and it was a very impressive thing to show off to the castle staff. It wasn’t the kind of thing she revealed often; not to anyone who might getideas. Of course, she wasn’t worried about Rufus—he probably had a chest full of these back home.
The beastman was still distracting Donna with pets and adoration, for which she was immensely grateful. The mare, for her part, was decidedly ignoring Brownie’s eyes.
Donna was a horse, yes, but she was amagical horse. Like a pegasus or a unicorn. Just because she couldn’t talk didn’t mean she wasn’t intelligent. At the same time, she had been raised in the Dark Enchanted Forest and often ignored the rules. The stable had prize oats, and so she would eat the prize oats. If the elves had a problem with that, then it was an elf problem.
