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'I've carted hides through these woods for years,' Yount said. 'I've seen bandits before. This is the first time I've seen dwarfs.'
'They bowed to him!' Ludvig called fearfully. 'They knelt when he went by! He's the king of the dwarfs!'
'Oh, for God's sake, clerk,' Yount said irritably, 'he's taller than I am.'
Duffy sat down on one of the bales, discouraged by these new developments. I hate times, he thought, when it seems like there's a.. .worldwide brotherhood whose one goal is to kill Brian Duffy. That's the kind of thing which, true or not, it's madness to believe. And even weirder is the brotherhood that seems to be dedicated to
helping me. Why' for instance, did Giacomo Gritti save my life in Venice last week? Why did all the monsters in the Julian Alps get together to guide me through the pass? And now why did these dwarfs - famous for their sullen, secretive ways - turn out in droves and kill my attackers?
'I won't ride with him.' Ludvig was in tears. 'I'm a devout man, and I won't travel with a king of dwarfs and mountain devils.'
Hmm, the Irishman thought uneasily - how did he hear of my Alpine guides?
'Shut up,' barked Yount, his voice harsh with uncertainty. 'We'll be in Vienna tomorrow afternoon, if we hurry. Whatever you are, stranger, I said you could ride with us, and I won't turn you out now, especially after you saved us from those highwaymen.'
'Then turn me out,' Ludvig said. Stop the wagons and let me get my stuff.'
Yount waved at him impatiently. 'Shut up and keep still.'
'I'm not joking,' the clerk said. 'Stop the wagons or I'll jump out while they're moving.'
Duffy stood up. 'Yes, Yount, you'd better put on the brakes. I'll walk from here. I don't want to deprive you of your clerk-he'd die for sure out here alone.
The old hides trader looked doubtful; clearly he'd be happy to be rid of the upsetting Irishman, but didn't want to violate travellers' courtesy. 'You're sure you want to leave us?' he asked. 'I won't force you off, even to save poor idiot Ludvig.'
'I'm sure. I'll do fine out here. If I get in any trouble I'll just whistle up some dwarfs.'
The wagons squeaked and lurched to a halt as Duffy shouldered on his knapsack, bundled up his fur cloak and swung to the ground. Yount's Sons sadly waved farewell
-clearly they'd found him much more interesting a
companion than the pious clerk. Duffy waved, and the wagons strained and heaved into motion again.
The Irishman cursed wearily and sat down under a tree to have a gulp or two of wine, for it had been an exhausting morning. I suppose, he told himself, savoring the lukewarm and now somewhat vinegary chianti, I could somehow have avoided this maroonment; turned on old Ludvig and hissed, If you don't shut up and let me ride along, I'll have my good pal Satan chase you from here to Gibraltar. Ho ho. Duffy cut himself chunks of cheese, salami, onion and bread, and washed it all down with some more of the wine. Then he rubbed a split garlic clove around the cut in his nose, to keep it from mortifying.>Duffy looked up. 'You're heading for Vienna?' he asked.
All three faces swivelled toward him, two of them pale and fearful and one thoughtful, appraising. 'That's right, stranger,' Yount said.
'I'd be glad to pay you to carry me,' Duffy said. 'My horse went lame on a... sort of forced march through the Alps, and I can't wait around for him to get straightened out. I wouldn't be much extra weight, and if you run across any bandits I imagine you'd be glad of another sword.'
'For the love of God, master,' Ludvig hissed, 'don't -''Shut up,' Yount snapped. 'Take holy water baths if you have to, or tattoo a cross on your forehead - I choose our personnel.' He turned to Duffy, who was highly puzzled by these reactions. 'Certainly, stranger. You can ride along. I'll charge you ten ducats, to be doubly refunded in the event that you help us repel any bandits.'
Ludvig began weeping, and Yount clouted him in the side of the head. 'Shut up, clerk.'
Birds were calling to each other through the trees as Yount's modest caravan got under way. Four barrel-chested horses were harnessed to the lead wagon, on the buckboard- of which sat Yount and the clerk, while Yount's two sons, having shed their shirts, were stretched out on the bundled hides to get a tan. There was another wagon being towed behind, and Duffy was sprawled across its bench, half napping in the midmorning sun. Little boys lined the road as the wagons rolled by, raising a cheer to see the departure of the cargo that had for two days given their town the pungent smell of a tannery. The Irishman tipped his hat. So long, horse, he thought. I believe you're better off without me.
In the morning sunshine, as he watched the birds hopping about on the new-budding branches and listened to the creaking and rattling of the carts, it was easy for him to regard the disturbing meetings in the mountains and Trieste as flukes, chance glimpses of survivals from the ancient world. Those things do still exist, he told himself, in the darker corners and cubbyholes of the world, and a traveller ought not to be upset at seeing them once in a while.
They camped that night by the banks of the Lab. Ludvig was careful to keep a distance between Duffy and himself, and always to sit on the opposite side of the fire; to make his feelings perfectly clear, every half hour or so he fled behind one of the parked wagons and could be heard praying loudly. Yount's sons, though, got along well with the Irishman, and he showed them how to play tunes on a piece of grass held between the thumbs. They grinned delightedly when he finished up his performance with a spirited rendering of a bit from Blaylock's Wilde Manne, but Ludvig, hiding behind a wagon again, howled to God to silence the devil-pipes.
'That's enough,' Yount said finally. 'You're scaring the daylights out of poor Ludvig. It's getting late anyway - I think we'd all better turn in.' He banked the fire and checked the horses' tethers while his sons crawled into sleeping bags and Duffy rolled himself up in his old fur cloak.
Clouds were plastered in handfuls over the low sky next morning, and Yount fretted for his hides. 'To hell with breakfast, boys,' he shouted, slapping the horses awake, 'I want us five miles north of the river five minutes from now.' Duffy climbed up onto the buckboard of the trailing wagon, turned up his frayed collar and resumed his interrupted sleep.
It was an oddly out-of-tune bird call that woke him again. I think that was a curlew, he told himself groggily as he sat up on the wagon bench, but I never heard one with such a flat voice. Then the call was answered, from the other side of the road, in the same not-quite-true tone
- and Duffy came fully awake. Those aren't curlews, he thought grimly. They're not even birds.
Trying to make it look casual, he stood up, balanced a moment on the footrest and then leaped across the gap• onto the leading wagon's back rail. He pulled himself over the bar, clambered across the rocking bales of hides -nodding cheerfully to the two young men as he passed -and tapped Yount on the shoulder. 'Keep smiling like I am,' he told him, ignoring the trembling Ludvig, 'but give me a bow if you've got one. There are robbers in these woods.'
