"Ungag the rest," he said, "and let them talk to each other."
"Master," Morano muttered, feeling that there was enough noise
already for a small wood, but he went and did as he was ordered.
And Rodriguez was justified of his humane decision, for the pent
thoughts of all three found expression together and, all four now
talking at once, mitigated any bitterness there may have been in
those solitary curses. And now Rodriguez could talk undisturbed.
"Whither?" said the stranger.
"To the wars," said Rodriguez, "if wars there be."
"Aye," said the stranger, "there be always wars somewhere. By
which road go you?"
"North," said Rodriguez, and he pointed. The stranger turned his
eyes to the way Rodriguez pointed.
"That brings you to the forest," he said, "unless you go far
around, as many do."
"What forest?" said Rodriguez.
"The great forest named Shadow Valley," said the stranger.
"How far?" said Rodriguez.
"Forty miles," said the stranger.
Rodriguez looked at la Garda and then at their horses, and
thought. He must be far from la Garda by nightfall.
"It is not easy to pass through Shadow Valley," said the stranger.
"Is it not?" said Rodriguez.
"Have you a gold great piece?" the stranger said.
Rodriguez held out one of his remaining four: the stranger took
it. And then he began to rub it on a stone, and continued to rub
while Rodriguez watched in silence, until the image of the lord
the King was gone and the face of the coin was scratchy and shiny
and flat.
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