The Goblin Gate Read Online Free

to the man, or to you, or to anyone. I just want to talk to him.”
    “Well, if you mean no harm to honest folk, I might be able to remember…”
    Gritting his teeth, Jeriah dug out two silver pieces and tossed them to the smith.
    “Why, m’lord.” Lido grinned. “I believe I do remember. It was Todder Yon, the tinker. He passes through here, oh, every six, nine months. He often sells horses or other stock. He gets ’em in trade, so I’d no reason to believe this one was stolen.”
    How often does a tinker get a knight’s horse ‘in trade’?
    “I don’t care about that. Where can I find this…Todder Yon?”
    “That’s the name, but as to where you can find him…Todder doesn’t follow a regular route. This time he said he came from Wildford, so he’s not likely to go that way. You might give Stockton a try, or Millford, or Bidlow.”
    “Thanks,” Jeriah muttered. “I think.”
    The smith grinned. “Don’t mention it, m’lord.”
     
    “No, sir, he’s three weeks gone from here,” said the plump serving maid. “But you might try Huddersfield, or Linksley, or Marbury. He doesn’t have a regular route.”
    Jeriah groaned silently. He’d heard similar answers in every village, hamlet, and town for the past six days. Todder Yonwas here last week, four days ago, hadn’t been by since last autumn. Jeriah was spending silver as if his purse were bottomless, his clothes were no sooner dry than they got wet again, and he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since the hunt began. He’d reached Millford just as the rain came on. When he learned the tinker wasn’t there, the exhaustion of a sleepless night and a day of apprehension, both spent in the saddle, hit him like a jousting lance. He’d rented a room in Millford and tossed in the lumpy bed until dawn, then set off hopefully in search of the tinker—but he was no closer to finding him now than he’d been then. The man was elusive as a ghost!
    “Will you be wanting a room, sir?” the girl asked. “We’d be happy to have you stay the night.” She sounded quite enthusiastic about keeping him there, and her sidelong glace was flirtatious. “There’s said to be bandits about, and it’ll likely pour in an hour or two. You’d never make Huddersfield before it comes down.”
    “That doesn’t matter.” Jeriah, who’d inherited his mother’s dark good looks, was accustomed to maids trying to flirt with him. Sometimes he flirted back, but now he had no time to spare. “I’m used to getting wet. Can you give me directions to Linksley?”
    “Surely. Just take the west road out of town about a two hours’ ride, and you’ll see the Linksley road splitting off to the south. But Huddersfield is closer.”
    “I know.” Jeriah dropped a silver piece into her outstretched palm. “I was there day before yesterday.”
     
    The rain began shortly after he turned onto the Linksley road. At least the maid’s directions were better than some he’d tried to follow over the last few days.
    The wind blew out of the south, pushing back his cloak and hood. Jeriah tucked the corners of the cloak between his legs and the saddle, but he had to hold the hood with his free hand to keep the rain out of his face. The hand that gripped the reins was already cold. He’d long since tied Fiddle’s lead rope to Glory’s saddle—fortunately, the well-mannered gelding gave him no trouble.
    It was embarrassing, when you’d been dreaming all your life of knightly deeds, to discover that you couldn’t track down a common tinker. Almost as embarrassing as learning that just being cold, wet, and tired all the time was enough to discourage you. Tristar of South Farring had tracked the evil Maroth all through the icy wasteland of the far north and never faltered. Jeriah had wanted to quit days ago.
    Raindrops spattered his face and Jeriah pulled his hood lower. If he couldn’t find a wandering tinker in his own world, how could he hope to find his brother in an