Chapter 59. Outrun by My Own Escort’s Rabbit While Riding a Mare Named Biscuit

Chapter 59: 59. Outrun by My Own Escort’s Rabbit While Riding a Mare Named Biscuit

I watched the pigeon disappear over the rooftops and tried to decide whether I’d just witnessed a bored clerk doing his job or the first move of a very long... and very patient trap.

There was no way to tell.

That, I supposed... was the point.

We said our goodbyes at the gate.

Hallis had come down from his office to see us off, leaning heavily on his cane, with a long gray coat thrown over his uniform. He shook each of our hands in turn, and when he got to mine, he held on a little longer than the others.

"Remember what I said," he told me. "Don’t be heroic..."

"I’m always careful."

"You’re a liar."

"I’m a hopeful liar."

He almost smiled. "Keep your head down... Come home safely to tell another story."

"I intend to..."

Martin was waiting just inside the gate, wrapped in a thick blanket, and he looked like a man who’d been woken against his will and had decided to make the best of it.

He’d gone to the trouble of combing his hair, which only made the sleepiness more obvious. When I stopped in front of him, he put his hands on his hips and stared up at me with a look that was meant to be stern.

"I want you to know," he said, "that if you die... I will haunt you."

"Who even started a conversation like that?" I laughed. "That’s very specific."

"I’m not joking, you know... I’ve been practicing." Martin crossed his arms. "I’ll sit at the foot of your bed and make small, disapproving noises."

"I’ll move your furniture slightly to the left."

I almost flinch hearing that. "That’s the most terrifying threat I’ve heard all month, but at least you sound concerned for me anyway."

"And I have excellent handwriting, so my ghost will leave extremely legible notes."

"Okaaay... you can stop now," I sighed.

Alicia, who had been trying hard to be serious, lost the battle and burst out laughing.

"Thank you, Martin," I said, and clapped him on the shoulder, and then, because I couldn’t help it, I hugged him.

And of course... this hug is just friendly and intended to make sure that everything was fine. He stiffened for a second, then relaxed and patted me twice on the back.

"Come back," he said, in a very different voice.

"I will."

Behind us, the wagon began to roll.

Alicia had been born to run a convoy, and I think she knew it by the time we cleared the city gates.

She’d spent the previous evening drawing diagrams on the back of Hallis’s maps, and when we finally rolled out onto the northeastern road, every single person had a position, a purpose, and a note taped inside their saddlebag with instructions in her small, neat handwriting.

The prison wagon lumbered along in the center, with its iron bars and its gray blanket.

Four riders surrounded it, two on each side.

Laura rode at the head of the column in her silver-gray armor, scanning the road ahead with a stiff, unblinking gaze, and Sharon brought up the rear on a huge black horse that looked as bad-tempered as she did.

"Ceremonial commanders stay in the back and glare," she’d announced when Alicia handed her the diagram.

"That’s literally what it says on your card," Alicia had replied.

"I wrote the card."

"I know... I’m just quoting you."

I wasn’t assigned a spot, strictly speaking, which turned out to be Alicia’s most devious move. I rode alongside the wagon, near the front wheel, where I could keep one eye on Garrick and the other on the hills.

Officially, I was the second escort, with no particular role.

In practice, I was the free piece on the board... the one who could go wherever he was needed, and nobody could say I’d left my post.

The six guards who’d been assigned to us by Hallis were a mixed bunch, but I’d come to like them within about ten minutes.

There was Sergeant Holt, a grizzled veteran with a gray beard and a face like an old boot, who handled his horse as though it were part of his own body and spoke maybe three words an hour.

There was Ferris, a lean young man with a crooked grin who’d already made two jokes at my expense before we’d left the suburbs.

There was Wynn, a broad-shouldered woman with a shaved head and a quiet, steady stare, and Dessa, small and sharp-eyed, who carried twin short swords and looked at the world as if it owed her money.

And oh! Pike was a giant of a man who barely said anything and seemed to be perpetually eating an apple, and Oswin was the youngest, a freckled boy of about nineteen who looked at Sharon with the open, worshipful eyes of someone who’d read too many stories.

They were all good, Hallis had told me. They were all loyal, and he’d have trusted any of them with his life.

And so... I wanted desperately to believe him.

We’d been on the road for about an hour when the first disaster of the trip occurred.

"Duchess, no," said Eveline. "Duchess... Duchess!"

She’d been given a gray mare with a long, aristocratic nose and the haughty expression of an old noblewoman who’d been forced to share a carriage with servants.

Duchess had been perfectly obedient through the city gates, and she’d walked in a straight line for the first mile.

Then, without warning, she’d decided that she didn’t care for the road.

She stopped dead in the middle of the track, so abruptly that Eveline pitched forward over the horse’s neck. Then she turned sharply to the right and plunged straight into a thicket of brambles at the roadside.

"DUCHESS...! The road is THAT way!"

The horse ignored her and began to eat the leaves.

Eveline tugged at the reins. I can see her click her tongue.

She whispered encouraging words, then pleading words, and then threats. Didn’t think that she could’ve done that.

But still, though... Duchess lifted her head, regarded her rider with a look of exquisite boredom, and went back to the brambles.

"Awww... She doesn’t like me at all," Eveline said, in a small voice.

"She doesn’t like anyone," said Ferris, riding up beside her. "She bit the stable master twice last week."

"That’s not helpful!"

"It’s very helpful, and it means it’s not you. So consider yourself lucky enough."

After the third attempt, Eveline gave up. She slid out of the saddle with a resigned sigh, patted Duchess’s neck, and handed the reins to a very confused Oswin, who was too startled to refuse.

Then she turned to the road, rolled her shoulders, and began to jog.

I assumed she’d run alongside us for a few hundred yards to burn off her embarrassment. But... I was wrong.

She picked up speed so smoothly that I almost didn’t notice it happening. Her long legs found a rhythm, and her loose golden hair streamed out behind her, and within about ten strides she’d passed the wagon.

Then she passed the lead riders.

And then she passed Laura, who turned her head in mild surprise as a blur went by on her left.

Eveline kept going until she was a hundred yards ahead of the column, a tiny figure on the long pale road, skipping over potholes like a deer.

Holy shit! Now I know why she’s a rabbit... she possessed almost that animal’s speed with a human body that’s also athletic.

All I do is just stare in awe.

"Sheesh... She’s fast," said Ferris, in a hushed voice.

"She’s faster than the horses," said Wynn. "And I think that’s fair... considering she’s a half rabbit and all."

"She’s even faster than Duchess," added Oswin, and the gray mare, now tethered behind his saddle, gave a long, disgusted snort.

I couldn’t help laughing.

It was one of those sights that shouldn’t have worked: a knight in a full uniform, with a satchel bouncing on her hip and rabbit ears flapping in the wind, outrunning a cavalry escort.

But she was so obviously happy, so free and unselfconscious, that it took the edge off the whole morning.

A hundred yards ahead, she turned, waved both arms over her head, and shouted something that I couldn’t make out.

Then she ran back toward us at a speed that would’ve made a racehorse weep, skidded to a halt at the wagon, and bent over with her hands on her knees, panting.

"S-sorry... hahhhh..." she gasped. "I wanted to... scout."

"You’ve proved enough that you’re a very good scout indeed," I said.

She smiled and pointed at her back. "The road is clear for a mile."

"That’s great! Thank you, Eveline."

"Duchess is still an idiot, though... hmph!" She pouted while trying not to stare at Duchess.

"I think Duchess heard that..."

The mare gave her a long, wounded stare. I swear, the animal looked genuinely offended.