Finally the little door behind her slid back, and Kestrel poked his tousled head out. He blinked at the light. "Are w-we th-there yet? Or c-close? How l-long d-did I s-sleep?" he asked, yawning.
"We've been there and gone. It's late afternoon," she told him. "I got supplies at the inn, but you were so tired you slept right through it all. We're on the road to Carthell Abbey, and I expect to get there about sunset at the rate the horses are going. There's no sign of Orlina Woolwright, though, and no one at the inn saw her."
Kestrel frowned. "Th-there might n-not b-be," he said, "if sh-she's b-bespelled, sh-she m-might n-not s-stop for anything. If sh-she p-passed the inn at n-night_"
"Of course!" Gwyna replied, disgusted with herself. "She would have passed the inn last night, about midnight, if she just kept walking."
"N-no reason n-not to," Jonny pointed out. "If sh-she's under a s-spell, she w-won't b-be able t-to s-stop, even if she f-feels t-tired, and l-last n-night was a f-full m-moon. Plenty of l-light t-to walk by. N-not likely she'd f-fall off the r-road."
He crawled out over the sill, and into the seat beside her. He'd fallen asleep coat and all, and looked rumpled head to toe.
"How l-long t-till s-sunset?" he asked.
She squinted at the sun. "Three hours," she said. "Roughly. Want a pie?"
She pulled a pie out of the sack under her seat; it was cold now, and not as tasty as it had been when it was warm, but the pies were still good even cold, and far, far better than the bannocks they'd eaten last night. And he must be ravenous.
Jonny took it with a nod of thanks, not quite snatching it, and devoured it in a few moments. She handed him another, and took one herself.
So, this time we make a plan first, and stick to it. A plan we can both agree on. "How are we going to approach the Abbey?" she wanted to know. "The last time they weren't very friendly to us, and I don't think that's going to change. But if that's where Padrik sent Orlina Woolwright, she'll probably be inside. Or at least they should know where she is."
"I've b-been th-thinking about th-that," Kestrel replied, around a mouthful of pie. "I have a p-p-plan. If y-you l-like it t-too, that is."
She grinned; they must have been thinking identical thoughts. "Just so it's better than one of my plans!" she teased. "Going in there in disguise as a Brother, for instance, is probably not a good idea. The last thing I need to do is have to rescue you from an Abbot who thinks you're one of his novices_or have him discover that I'm not a boy!"
"I'd th-thought of th-that," he admitted. "It w-would s-serve you r-right, after all, t-to b-be on the other s-side of th-the w-w-worry!"
She slapped his knee with the ends of her reins by way of an answer. "So what's the real plan?" she asked.
He finished the last of his pie, and licked his fingers. "Th-there is a d-disguise, b-but n-not a d-dangerous one _"
It seemed to take forever to reach their destination, though perhaps that was anxiety and not reality. Finally the road dove down into the valley that contained Carthell Abbey; it was just before sunset, and the sky above the western hills glowed flame-streaked and glorious. Too bad the valley did not match the view_bare trees on either side of the road stretched riblike limbs toward them; a clammy, spectral mist rose from stagnant pools of water as they passed through the Beguilers' swamp. It was very cold and damp here, and the deep shadows of the surrounding hills made it colder still. But at least by now the treekies and the Beguilers would have gone into hibernation for the winter.
Now just so that there aren't any gellens or varks in this valley as well, Robin thought. Kestrel must have felt the same way, urging the horses to a faster pace. Be just our luck that there are nocturnal winter monsters here as well as the ones that hibernate.
Kestrel had taken over the reins shortly after he awoke; he stopped the horses well out of sight of the Abbey, and Robin climbed down off of the passengers seat. She was dressed in her warmest and drabbest, and she only hoped that Brother Pierce, the surly Gatekeeper, hadn't gotten a good look at her the last time they were here. Right now, she looked like a very respectable young woman straight out of Gradford, and that was what she wanted him to think she was.
A very respectable, very wealthy, and very assertive young woman. The kind Brother Pierce would have to answer, whether he liked it or not.
They unhitched one of the horses, and threw a blanket over it, hoping that in the semidarkness, it would look like a saddle. She trotted up the road to the Abbey afoot, leading the horse, for she did not know if it had ever been broken to ride, and now was not the time to find out! The brisk pace warmed her thoroughly, her breath puffing out in front of her in clouds of white. There was going to be a hard frost here tonight, and perhaps a light sprinkling of freezing rain... not ideal weather for camping. There wouldn't be a choice, however; not tonight. Far safer to camp than trust to the safety of any shelter offered by the Church. Assuming they would offer it.
Not bloody likely.
The Abbey loomed up around a bend in the road, lanterns beckoning with a promise of warmth that she already knew would not be kept. She hurried her pace a little; the horse tugged on the rein in her hand, and whickered. Poor thing; it thought she was taking it to a stable. If there were varks out here, she wanted to get back to the wagon as fast as she could!