Chapter 10.4.1

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Later, as we stood in a room barely large enough hold all seven of us, I gently touched my lord’s arm. "You should know this – Old Sam will not trust anyone who will not drink his worst brew."
He glanced down at the holes in the floor, through which we could see the main room, then signed back. "It was a filthy trick."

"We all drank our portion without complaint."

He stared back with cold eyes. "Did any of you have a dead fly floating on the surface?"

Charles laughed out loud.

My lord turned on him. "What was that for?"

The knight widened his eyes. "Jason and Ison told me a joke before we left, about a monk and a priest and a nun who walked into a bar. But the Bard ducked. I just got it."

With a sigh, Lord Reinard turned away.

Sharp clapped his hands together to get our attention. "Quickly, now – change. We have time to get to Rockridge tonight, if we hurry."

"It’s a day’s walk away," Lord Reinard protested. "And it’s already afternoon."

"There’s a shortcut through the mountains."

"And there’s a storm coming."

"It makes more sense to seek shelter during the storm, than afterwards." Sharp smiled as he pulled out a bundle of rags from his pack and threw them at my lord’s feet.

"What’s this?" Lord Reinard unrolled the bundle. They were my oldest clothes: torn, ragged, and far too short in the sleeves and legs. The clothes of a stable-boy, a beggar, a cast-away.

"Your disguise," Sharp replied.

"But I have a beard!"

"You’re still a rich man, with all that fur and linen. You must play the part of a penniless wretch."
Petulant, my lord shed his fine coverings and pulled on the rags. When he turned around I saw, despite the hard set of his face, the fragile young boy I had once befriended. At that moment I wondered if certain doings could be undone, if a path could be rewalked, if a wasteland could bloom. If I played at that moment, would the gulf between us be bridged? Absently, I took my harp from the trunk.

"Not know," Lord Reinard snapped. "Get dressed so we can go."

Puzzled, I put the harp back down and pulled out the monk’s habit. Why had I even wanted to do that?

Sharp looked into my trunk. "You still have my sword. Will you please return it?"
Reasonably sure that he would not try to kill me again, I handed it over.