The next morning, Mr. Tony’s Caravan, the Kinsmen from Fline, and Prince Elvin’s four soldiers departed from the “Camp with the Two Fires,” as they thereafter referred to it in recollection. They proceeded that day to Blinwan where they would begin their short detour to the site of the construction of the granary and docks described by the kinsmen.
They drove the wagon and vans through town passed a nice livery on the far side of town, where they pulled to the side of the road. They set up camp, as normal and started making preparations for the night.
Sir Anthony looked back toward town and turned to the kinsmen. “Come with me. Let’s see if we can find you mounts to call your own. You can ride, can’t you?”
Gadalla, Pylor, and Rokef said that they could, and they followed Sir Anthony back toward the livery. The idea of finding horses suitable for Gadalla and Pylor struck Lansal as unlikely, so he followed along behind.
When they got to the livery, Lansal realized Sir Anthony was a step ahead of him. He had motioned for the horse breeder, who was putting away the last of his stock, and when he drew near, he shook hands.
“I saw you had a pair of your draft horses tied up with the riding horses. Are they saddle trained?” Sir Anthony.
“You can call it that.” The breeder nodded. “They’ve been under a saddle a few times, but mostly they have been used as pack horses. They are three-year’s old. Not from the same mare, but sired by a great big, gentle giant of a horse. I call them Fortune and Star, but they don’t come when called or anything like that.”
“Do you think they could carry these two at a trot? We are making our way along the roads and do a little more than an hour in the morning, and then again until sunset.”
The breeder stroked his chin and sized up Gadalla and Pylor. “I wouldn’t pack on many supplies, but just to carry these two… yeah, they ought to hold up a while. How about these other two fellas? Will they be needing a mount?”