Chapter 7
Two Mules for Sister Lys
The Road to Masberg, Lothria
It was a testament to Sir Burkhardt's training as a knight that he was able to stay atop his mule despite being passed out drunk. The way his head hung heavily stifled his snoring, which could become quite loud if he would happen to hit a bump that would cause his head to loll back and open up his windpipe. Once they entered enemy territory, he was liable to get them killed, but at the rate he was drinking through his supply of ale, it would not be a problem much longer.
Lys gripped the hilt of one of her daggers. It was sorely tempting to take advantage of Sir Burkhardt's drunken stupor to slash open the leather bottles and rid the knight of his temptation once and for all, but she feared the consequences. She had heard that once a man was given to drink, however bad he was with it, he would be twice as bad without it. Still, she needed to do something or else he would not be in any way fit to fight when the time came.
In her head, Lys went through the list of spells and charms that she knew for the dozenth time. If there was a spell to sever the connection between a drunkard and the bottle, she had never been taught it. The craft of brewing was unknown to the Ral'shee and only rarely would they get their paws on any strong drink, either through trade or spoil. Nothing good ever came of it, but it was too rare an occurrence to come up with a solution other than beating the offender into submission if he was fortunate or gutting him if he was not. Neither of those would be appropriate for Sir Burkhardt.
Hänsel took a bad step, his hoof slipping on some uneven ground, and as he recovered his footing, he jostled Sir Burkhardt awake.
The drunken knight snorted and sputtered and before he had even taken in the situation, he asked, "It time to eat?"
"We still have an hour or so until noon," Lys replied. "Do you ever think of anything but food and drink?"
Sir Burkhardt held up his hand and said, "There're five thin's a man needs: food an' drink in 'is belly're two, next is clothes on 'is back, a roof o'er 'is 'ead, an' the fifth... Ah, ne'er mind the fifth..."
Because Sir Burkhardt was still enough of a gentleman to restrain himself, Lys could not resist the urge to tease him.
"You'll make this poor maid blush, Sir Knight."
"If you're savvy 'nough for sech japes, you're none so poor... but for honor's sake, I'll not cast doubts on whether you're still a maid or not."
"That's better than this one old priest in Skadia who was raving about me being the Whore of Babylon."
"Hmph," Sir Burkhardt grunted. "An' what'd a pries' know 'bout whores, from Bab'lon or otherwise? You might dress unseemly f'r a lady, but none with eyes ta see'd take you f'r a whore."
"Well, thank you, Sir Burkhardt," Lys said, abandoning the thought of teasing him about his discerning eye for whores. Instead, she said, "I didn't think about it when I asked you to come with me, but I probably should've... Are you leaving behind a wife and family to do this?"
Sir Burkhardt gestured for himself and said, "Do I look like a man who's got a wife ta look after 'im?"
"But you're the Knight Champion of Gotland."
"I was..." he muttered. "What's the knight of a dead kingdom got? No lands, no fortune, empty title... Ah, 'fore it all went ta 'ell, I was betrothed ta the daughter of Baron Adelric o' Morgau. Don't know what 'appened ta 'er. Maybe she got out, maybe she's dead..."
Trying to encourage the knight a little, Lys said, "If she's still alive, maybe she's waiting for you, and if we can defeat the Witch Queen, we can take back what we've lost."
"That's two big ifs," Sir Burkhardt replied. "You really think the two o' us can turn the tide that's swept through se'en o' the Eight Kingdoms?"
"I'd be a fool to try it if I didn't think I had a chance."
"Most'd say you're a fool for thinkin' you've got a chance."
Lys looked back at him and asked, "Then what would that make you, Sir Burkhardt?"
Sir Burkhardt reached for one of the leather bottles and shook it a little to ensure there was still something inside before taking a drink.
He belched and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before replying, "Guess that makes me twice the fool."
"Then I suppose Hänsel is the most sensible one here," Lys said.
Sir Burkhardt laughed.
"I can believe that," he said. He then patted Hänsel's neck. "We should make you leader, Hänsel me lad."
Hänsel nickered in apparent appreciation. Of course, if a sensible lad like Hänsel was made leader, this whole venture would be abandoned shortly. Best to leave a fool's errand in the hands of a fool.