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‘Yes, Sir!’

Let me tell you—when Mr Rikkard Ambrose says ‘ride hard’ he reall

y means ‘hard.’ I nearly broke my teeth from the staccato my horse’s hooves played on the harsh cobblestones. We did, however, make excellent time. It didn’t take long until the first coaching inn appeared in the distance. Mr Ambrose reined in his horse.

‘Karim, stay here while I check the stables for the earl’s coach.’

Karim’s eyebrows drew together. ‘Sahib, that is not something you should do, especially not in your injured state. Let me—’

‘Use your head, man! What if the earl sees you approaching, then riding off again, and then coming back dressed differently? You don’t think he might find that slightly suspicious?’

‘Oh.’

‘Precisely. Now stop fussing over me. I’m fine.’ And, tugging his horse around, he rode off towards the inn. I watched him go. When he was out of hearing distance, I leaned over to Karim and asked: ‘How long have you been with him?’

The big man hesitated for a moment, then…

‘I have been in the Sahib’s service for more than half a decade.’

I considered this for a moment.

‘How on earth have you managed not to strangle him?’

Karim nearly fell off his horse.

‘What?’

‘Really, I’d love to know your secret. Seeing as I’m probably going to be around him for quite a bit, it could come in handy.’

The Mohammedan gave me a haughty look. Not a hard thing to do when you’re two heads taller than everybody else. Three heads, if you counted the turban.

‘I would never even dare to contemplate physical violence against Ambrose Sahib.’

I raised an eyebrow, and just waited. And waited.

Finally….

‘I count, all right?’ Karim admitted in a low grumble. ‘Satisfied? I count to ten!’

‘And that works?’

‘Ten imaginary punches to the gut.’

‘Oh.’ I nodded. ‘Yes, that would work. Thanks for sharing your experience with me. I’m glad we had this little talk and got to know each other better.’

Karim gave me a look that said, ‘if anyone asks I’m going to deny this ever happened’, and turned his massive back on me. Wasn’t he a sweety?

Just then, Mr Ambrose rounded the corner and came galloping back towards us.

‘He’s not here. Let’s move!’

And he rode off into the night.

‘Gee-up!’

Spurring my horse, I raced after him. Behind me, Karim uttered a curse, which was answered by a protesting whinny. His horse didn’t seem very pleased about having to carry twice as much as his four-legged friends.

Well, I couldn’t wait for them. Not while I had my bloody employer to catch up to. And in this case, bloody wasn’t even an insult! When I caught up and Mr Ambrose appeared out of the darkness in front of me, he was hunched over on his horse, clutching his injured shoulder.

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