A World Without Heroes (29 page)

“They made us criminals,” Ferrin corrected, returning to the roan’s stall. He led out the gelding, hoofs clomping on the planks. “Mount up,” he said, bounding easily onto the roan’s bare back.

Jason stuck his boot in a stirrup and hoisted himself up awkwardly. Rachel mounted the white mare smoothly.

Ferrin walked his horse over to Jason. “Don’t stick your foot so far through the stirrup. If you fall you’ll get dragged. And don’t pull so tightly on the reins. They aren’t there for your stability. Grip with your knees. Ready?”

“I guess.”

Ferrin smiled. “You can read horses’ minds. That was very nice. My kind of crazy.”

“Thanks. The headlessness was a slick scare tactic.”

“It kept our unfortunate friend off balance. Let’s go.”

Leaning down, Ferrin lifted a latch and shoved open the main stable doors. Rachel followed, and Jason trotted after them onto the street, bouncing up and down with the jerky gait. Then Ferrin touched his heels to the roan’s sides, and the steed sped up to a canter. Rachel’s mare started loping as well.

Without any urging, Jason’s mount matched the pace of the other horses. For a horrible moment Jason thought he was going to get jounced out of the saddle to one side or the other. Each loping stride provided a fresh opportunity to lose his balance.

The town blurred by, dark buildings interrupted by an occasional lit window. Holding his reins loosely in one hand and clutching the pommel with the other, Jason tried to grip with his knees as Ferrin had instructed. Soon he discovered that if he let
his body rock in synchronization with the horse’s strides, the ride became less jarring.

They rode out of the town, Jason a few lengths behind Rachel and Ferrin. The town receded behind them, and Jason gradually grew more comfortable astride the running horse. He began to notice the cool night air washing over him, the bright stars glittering above through gaps in unseen clouds, the occasional twinkle of fireflies off to either side of the road. Somewhere in the night a pack of coyotes or wolves started howling. The howls rose in a cackling chant, intensifying until a heart-freezing shriek pierced the night. Jason’s horse began to gallop, racing past Ferrin and Rachel, Jason tugging ineffectually at the reins. The howls ended abruptly. As he bounced along the dark road, Jason envisioned animals feeding on a kill.

He finally managed to yank his horse to a stop. Ferrin pulled up alongside him and dismounted. “We should walk for a while. These are hearty steeds, but we must conserve their strength.” Rachel drew up and dismounted gracefully.

Jason clambered down. He rubbed his thighs. “Much more of this and I’ll be bowlegged.”

“You did fine,” Ferrin laughed.

They led their horses along the lane.

“Will they chase us?” Rachel asked.

“Very likely. But not far beyond the outskirts of town. Now, your friend with the new arm, he is another story. I expect he will get released, so sleep with one eye open.”

“Are we outlaws now?” Jason asked.

“Perhaps in that town. Not all towns have constables. And there is little communication between them. The only centralized power in the land belongs to Maldor.”

“I’ll wear a fake mustache and glasses if I ever go back through there,” Jason said.

“Our manner of escape should help clear our names,” Ferrin said. “Constable Wornser is no fool. We had plenty of opportunities to kill, if murder were our game. Still, if either of you ever comes back this way, go around the town.”

They walked on in silence.

After a time they remounted the horses and trotted them. Jason marveled at how tireless the horses seemed.

As dawn began to color the sky, Ferrin led them off the road. They went over the shoulder of a hill and made camp in a hollow on the far side. Ferrin tethered the horses while Jason and Rachel laid out their blankets.

“I’ll keep watch,” Ferrin volunteered.

Jason fell asleep quickly but did not slumber long. He awoke with the sun barely above the horizon. He walked out of the shade of their hollow into the morning light, stretching the sore muscles in his legs.

“If you’re up, I may catch a nap,” Ferrin whispered.

Jason gave a nod. About fifty feet away stood a limbless stump of a tree, with a hole in its side the size of a dinner plate. Jason selected five rocks of similar size. He stood as if he were on a pitcher’s mound, the first rock in his hand. He checked first base, went into a windup, and hurled the stone at the hole. Two of the five rocks went inside. Only one missed the tree entirely.

He wandered back over to the shade of the hollow. The horses nibbled at grass near where they were tethered. Rachel rested her head on her arms, her breathing slow and even. Ferrin lay on a patch of dirt, hands folded on his breast.

What a peculiar guy. He certainly knew how to handle himself in a fight. Whoever had jumped him and left him to die with his head in a sack must have really known what they were doing.

As Jason stood watching, the fingers and thumbs began
dropping off Ferrin’s hands. They wormed off his body and squirmed toward Jason across the ground. Jason jumped back, his voice cracking. “Uh, Ferrin, you’re coming apart.”

Ferrin’s mouth bent into a small grin, and he opened one eye. “Did I startle you?”

“You are weird.”

Ferrin collected his fingers. “You have good aim with rocks.”

“Do you know what baseball is?”

Ferrin shook his head.

“It’s a game we have where I come from. One of the people in the game has to throw balls with a lot of accuracy. I used to do that.”

“I enjoy sports. Tell me the rules of baseball.”

Jason stared at the ground, wondering how to begin. He had never explained baseball to somebody with no knowledge of the game. “Well, there are two teams. While one takes their turn batting, the other team is on the field to defend against hits.”

“What is batting?”

“I’m getting there. A pitcher throws a ball, and the batter tries to hit it into play, or over the rear wall, which is a home run, unless it goes foul.”

Ferrin looked perplexed.

Jason rubbed his chin. “There are four bases arranged in a diamond shape, and the hitter is trying to advance around all the bases. When he gets to the fourth base, which is where he started, he’s home and scores a run.”

Ferrin began reattaching his fingers one at a time. “This is the most complicated game in all of history. I have no idea what you mean.”

“Wait. I’m just laying groundwork. I have to define a lot of stuff before you’ll be able to understand. I wish we could play a
few innings. It’s much easier to pick up when you can see the game being played.”

“I don’t care about baseball,” Rachel moaned, her face buried in her arms. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“You can tell me more once we get on the road,” Ferrin told Jason. “Despite the long night, we should set off early today, just in case.”

The horses acted restive returning to the road, so Ferrin let them canter along the lane for a good distance before slowing to a walk. This time, under the light of day, Jason enjoyed the ride. Despite feeling a little sore, he could see how people could develop a passion for horseback riding.

When the horses walked, Jason continued explaining baseball. Rachel added occasional clarifications. Ferrin began to grasp the concepts, and eventually the displacer could explain the difference between a ground-rule double and a double play. He even came to appreciate the necessity of the infield-fly rule.

Not long past noon they came to a small hamlet of low earthen buildings with thatched roofs. One of the houses had a corral fencing in a pair of horses. Ferrin dismounted in front of the door, handing his reins to Rachel.

A bald man with a hook nose answered the knock.

“Hello, friend,” Ferrin said. “We borrowed these horses from a man in the town down the road. For a fee would you see that he gets them back?”

“The one without the saddle is Herrick’s horse,” said the man.

“The others were taken from the same stable. By necessity we borrowed them without permission. No doubt he will be most anxious to see them returned.”

The bald man eyed Ferrin warily. “No doubt.”

“Jason, pay the man eight drooma—three ones and a five.”
Jason began fishing out his money bag. “Three for your trouble, sir, and five for Herrick. Please convey our apologies.”

Jason climbed down from his horse and handed the bald man the money.

“Can I have your word the horses will be delivered as described?” Ferrin asked.

“I don’t give my word to thieves,” the man replied.

All friendliness vanished from Ferrin’s countenance and expression. “And I don’t deliver valuables via unsworn men. Swear or return the money.”

The man looked uncomfortable. “I swear all will be as you say.”

“Show no disrespect to thieves,” Ferrin pressed, in an icy tone. “You know who claims to rule this land. Many of the best men living work outside the law. Along with the most dangerous.”

The bald man looked thoroughly cowed. “I take your meaning. Forgive my words.”

“I will forgive when you deliver on your pledge,” Ferrin said, finally turning his back on the man.

The bald man accepted the reins from Rachel and Jason and began walking the horses toward the corral. Ferrin started down the road.

“You can be harsh,” Jason said.

Ferrin smirked. “Among my many professions my favorite was acting.” He slapped Jason on the back. “We are honest men again.”

“And women,” Rachel added.

“Precisely,” Ferrin agreed.

Ferrin stopped at a seemingly random house, larger than most along the road. He knocked.

A disheveled woman answered. “We are weary travelers,” Ferrin said. “Do you know where we might purchase some food here in town?”

“There is no inn. All I can offer is rabbit stew.”

“Three bowls for two drooma?”

Her eyes widened. “Come in,” she said, smiling hospitably.

Ferrin winked at Rachel and Jason. Leaning toward them, he spoke for their ears only. “With a few drooma in your pocket everyone is your friend.”

CHAPTER
13
NICHOLAS

T
he key to traveling without provisions,” Ferrin explained on their third evening after leaving the road, “is learning to recognize a bubblefruit tree.”