Leopard in Exile by Andre Norton, Rosemary Edghill Read Free Book Online Page B

and wiping down its team paid no attention to their
    master's actions—they were paid well to see little and say less.
    A few moments later Wessex and Hirondel were away. Wessex led the animal through a narrow path
    behind the mews that led to a side street. He continued to lead his mount for another block or so, until
    they were well removed from Herriard House, and then mounted up and began to ride briskly eastward
    just as the clock on a nearby steeple began to strike ten.
    His enquiries had disclosed, through the Groom of the Chamber, that Lord Warltawk had not been sent
    an invitation to the Wedding Breakfast, though of course he had certainly been able to produce one upon
    arrival. Finding out who had not attended the fete so that Warltawk could go in his stead would take
    hours of cross-checking, and would mean alerting Lord Misbourne, and possibly the traitor within the
    White Tower. If Wessex could take Warltawk and his contact himself, he might be able to settle the
    matter once and for all. But to do that he needed very special help.
    Wessex could hear the distant boom of celebratory fireworks at St. James and Vauxhall, and every once
    in a while the sky above him would be lit by a cascade of artificial stars. He rode through a London alive
    with revelry—a good cover for any amount of peculiar activity. With so many notable personages
    gathered in London, the Midnight Princes would be gathered for the feast—and finding one particular
    demi-ruffler out of all that company was a task for which Wessex would need the devil's own luck.
    In the thud tavern he tried, out on Ratcliffe Highway, Wessex found that his luck still held.
    Hie man sitting with his boots to the fire was dressed after the fashion of a Top-o'-The-Trees: high black
    boots with silver heels and spurs, a long, full-skirted riding coat in green velvet, and a deep-brimmed
    country hat into which he had stuck a long gold pheasant feather.
    This garb was not that rather more theatrical costume by which five counties knew and feared him, and
    Wessex did not know his face, but a horse was harder to disguise than a suit of clothing, and Wessex
    had a keen eye for horseflesh. The proof of his quarry's identity, a silver stallion out of the Templeton
    stud, was standing in the best loose-box the Rat and Gauntlet could boast, placidly eating oats.
    Wessex seated himself at the far side of the unoccupied table. The man in the green velvet coat looked
    up with quick warning, but Wessex was not cowed.
    "Ah, Merlin le Fou ," he said amiably in gutter French. "Do allow me to stand the next round."
    Morgan Tudor—known as Mad Merlin to the Bow Street Mounted Patrol and a large number of
    magistrates across England—regarded his unsought companion warily. There were few people who
    knew to call him by that name, and most of them he disliked extremely.
    "You've got the wrong man," he answered briefly, draining his glass and standing to leave.
    "I'm looking for the Welch horse-thief who stole a horse called Moonlight two years ago, and who is a
    particular crony of the Earl of Malhythe," the pale stranger said without moving.
    The name caused Merlin to sit back down, slowly. His hand dropped to the knife in the top of his boot.
    This man didn't have the look of one of Malhythe's messengers, which made it very likely that he would
    suffer an unfortunate accident before morning.
    There was the unmistakable sound of a pistol cocking.
    Merlin froze, the tips of one finger just touching the hilt of his knife.
    "Please do not force me to shoot you," the stranger said sympathetically. "I wish to make you an offer
    that does not conflict with your present employment."
    Merlin hesitated. If he resisted, the stranger would shoot him. If he ran or protested, the same thing might
    happen. But if he listened to the offer, he had nothing to lose. There was already a price of a thousand
    gold guineas upon his head and a rope waiting for him at Newgate whenever he had time to