Page 19 of The Sorcerer's Thief
But not tonight.
Chapter 6
Cricket
The stable mistress snores so loudly I’m shocked the horses get any rest at all. She’s sprawled atop a brown wool blanket on a makeshift bed of hay, twitching as if in the middle of a dream.
I hate to wake her, but there’s no getting around my need for a horse.
The hay makes my nose itch, and suddenly I’m in the middle of a sneezing fit, and the poor woman startles wide awake.
“Sorry, sorry.” I shuffle backward. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She collects herself, plucks a stray piece of the offending hay from her hair, and straightens her skirts. “Where’d you come from? Sun won’t be up for hours.”
“A room at The Merry Goblet. Need to make an early start.”
Her glare says she’s unimpressed. “Early is one word for this infernal hour.”
“Came to see about a horse.”
“Course you did. This is a stable,” she mutters and walks into the nearest stall. “Didn’t come to see about a fancy set of silver candlesticks at a stable, now did ya?”
It’s not often I’m left milling around feeling stupid, but she’s done it to me in half a conversation with very little effort after being awoken from a dead sleep.
A smart man would ask for her hand in marriage.
But as we’ve established, I’m not a smart man. “So, how much for a horse?”
“If you can get along with Slinger here, I’ll just about payyouto take her off my hands.” She halters a small bay and leads her from the stall. “That’s a joke, mind you. Horses aren’t cheap.”
“I know that.” The horse has one black eye and one milky blue eye, both glaring at me like she doesn’t appreciate being woken up any more than the stable mistress. Now way she can see out of that marbled eye. “Why do you call her Slinger?”
“She throws riders she doesn’t like, so make friends quickly and treat her right.”
“What if I want a different horse?”
“That’s my call. It’s this one or none.” She gives Slinger a firm pat on the rump. “Go on. Say hi to her.”
Slinger is tense, her ears pricked forward. I nicker, keeping my gaze soft and low. With an outstretched hand, I wait for her to approach me.
She’s a pretty little thing, a pony, really, with a reddish-brown body and a black mane and tail. A splash of white, like a dollop of whipped cream, is centered on her forehead. It looks a bit like a heart. A misshapen heart.
“Hey girl, come on over.” If only I’d thought to bring a bribe. Something sweet and crunchy to tempt her.
She pokes her nose forward and sniffs my hand.
I hold still and keep my voice low. “That’s it, Slinger. Nice to meet you.” After a bit, I give her shaggy neck a scratch, which she allows with a rumbling snuffle. So far, so good.
“You’ll get along just fine,” says the stable mistress. “That’ll be sixteen silvers.”
“She’s half-blind.”
“But not lame. Sixteen silvers and not a bit less.” She holds out her hand.
It’s a steep price for an ornery pony, but I can’t bring myself to care too much. I dole out the money. “If a grumpy sorcerer were to come poking around and asking nosy questions, tell him I stole her. That she’s your fastest mount and worth a pretty penny. Act angry about it.”
She frowns. “Why would you want a sorcerer to think ill of you?”
