Sabre sprinted after the wagon before she could argue, knowing she would. Drawing alongside, he gripped the edge of the driver’s seat and leapt aboard, settled beside the startled driver and turned to the gaping man with a smile.
“Excuse me, but my companion is a lady of noble blood, who needs to travel to Olgara. She finds walking something of a trial, since her feet are rather soft. I wonder if you would be so kind as to stop and give her a lift?”
The driver hesitated, glancing at a rusty sword stuck behind the seat, then hauled on the reins. The carthorses slowed, digging in their heels to halt the wagon’s momentum while the driver leant on the brake lever. Tassin marched towards them, carrying the pack, her expression thunderous.
Sabre said to the driver, “You’ll have to excuse her manners. She’s very rude. But I thank you for your generosity.”
The wagoner, a middle-aged man with black hair, green eyes, a pock-marked face and jutting ears, nodded. The invasion of his wagon seemed to have rendered him speechless, especially since, Sabre guessed, the culprit appeared to be unarmed, yet displayed the kind of confidence only a warrior would have.
Tassin reached the wagon, and Sabre helped her up beside him, whereupon she said, “You took your time stopping him.”
“Perhaps you’d have liked me to slit his throat, then I could have stopped the wagon quicker?”
She looked at the open-mouthed driver. “No, that was not necessary.”
The driver stared at them, then, seeing that the argument was over, he whipped up the horses. They threw their weight against the collars, and the wagon rolled forward. Gradually, it gained speed, until the horses moved at a trot once more.
“You see why wagoners aren’t keen to stop for hitch-hikers? It’s hard for the horses to start the load again,” Sabre commented.
“What are hitch-hikers?”
“People who stand at the side of the road with their thumbs out.”
“Their thumbs?”
“Never mind.”
The driver perked up when Sabre told him they would pay for the ride, and became quite friendly, chatting about his family while they rattled towards Olgara. The wagon was laden with fresh produce, mostly cabbages, covered by a tarpaulin. Its progress was slow, and they stopped beside another stream for the night. Sabre went hunting while the driver hauled water from the stream to throw over his vegetables, and the horses grazed nearby.
When Sabre returned with another pig, larger than the previous one, the driver had freshened his vegetables, groomed his horses, lighted a fire, boiled water for tea and laid out the bedding ready for the night. Tassin had washed her face in the stream, and lounged beside the wagon, rubbing her feet. The driver’s name was Umgar, and he turned out to be a friendly fellow.
Again, they feasted on pork, and Umgar contributed some boiled vegetables, which were much appreciated. They spent the night under the wagon, and Sabre slept strategically between Umgar and the girl, just in case the wagoner turned out to be less innocent than he seemed.