Another outlaw leveled his quarterstaff like a lance and ran howling at Gar. The big man caught the end of the staff, braced it against his knee, and let the butt catch the outlaw in the belly. He sat down hard, gagging, and Gar yanked the staff free.
Miles’s other attacker shouted in anger and swung his staff high. It was a beginner’s mistake, and Miles took full advantage of it, shooting his own staff end-on into the man’s belly before he could block. The outlaw folded over in pain and sat down hard as Miles danced aside, staff back up to guard, looking about him for more enemies.
The archer was just coming to his feet, bow strung and pulling an arrow from the quiver. He heard Dirk’s shout and looked up, staring, then yelped with fright and ducked aside. The spear missed him by inches.
Gar shouted, whirling the staff over his head like a windmill, his horse moving toward the leader. The man yelped in fright, scrambled to his feet, and ran for the underbrush.
Dirk shouted again as he spurred his horse, charging down on the archer. The man howled and fled back into the trees. Dirk pulled up his horse just short of the thicket and turned it back, in time to see two more outlaws running for the bracken. Two others lay unconscious.
Miles looked about him, saw no more enemies moving, and dropped his staff, turning to open his arms for the fugitive. “There now, lass, you’re safe. We won’t let them get at you.”
She stood frozen a moment, lips parted as though uncertain whether to cry out in terror or in joy. Then she sagged against Miles’s chest, whole body racked with huge sobs. Dazed, he folded his arms about her, amazed at how wonderful she felt there. He had never held a woman before. He looked up helplessly, but only saw Gar nodding in grave approval. Miles took heart and turned back to murmuring the sort of inanities his mother had used to soothe him when he was very smalclass="underline" “There, there, it’ll be all right now, we won’t let them get you,” and, “Hush, now, hush, there’s no need to cry, we’re all your friends here,” until finally she gulped, pushed him away a little, and wiped streaming eyes on her sleeve. She looked up at him through her tears with a tremulous smile. “Thank you, goodman! I can’t ever thank you enough.”
“You just did.” Where had that gallant phrase come from? “But it wasn’t me alone who fought for you, lass. These kind gentlemen did more than I.”
“Not this time, we didn’t.” Dirk was grinning. “You scored just as high as we did, Miles.”
“Are you Miles, then?” the woman asked, looking up wide-eyed. “I’m Ciletha.”
“I’m charmed to meet you—and by you.” The words seemed to roll off Miles’s tongue with an ease he’d never known. “Now I’m glad I had to flee from the bailiff.”
“Flee?” Ciletha drew back a little. “What for?”
“For refusing to marry the woman his master had chosen for me, and she hated the notion more than I did,” Miles told her, “though I have to admit I didn’t come right out and say no to the magistrate—I just left. But what sent you to the wildwood, poor thing?”
Ciletha lowered her gaze. “I came with a friend, who was looking for the Lost City. He found it, and chose to stay there.”
“Lost City?” Gar edged his horse closer, suddenly very intent. “That sounds like a good place to hide from the hounds and the foresters. Can you take us back there?”
“Why … I don’t know, sir.” Ciletha looked about her, confused. “I’ve been turned so much about and about while I ran from those fiends…” Privately she shuddered at the idea of going back to those strange, ugly, garishly dressed people—but the forest had proved more dangerous than the ruins, and with friends to protect her …
Somehow, she knew that Miles would protect her with every ounce of his strength. The knowledge spread through her with a warm reassurance. Why he would, she refused to think—but she knew she was safe with him. Perhaps his friends were to be trusted just as much—but had they fought to save her, or to win her? Surely they wouldn’t betray Miles, though.
“Think,” Gar urged. “Was the sun behind the city, or behind your shoulder?”
“Behind the city,” Ciletha said without hesitation, “but it was the moon, sir—I’ve been wandering for days now, I think only four of them. Who can find the moon under all these leaves, though?”
“He has an unusually good sense of direction,” Dirk informed her.
“Ciletha, these are my masters, Dirk and Gar,” Miles said. “Friends,” Dirk said quickly. “Just friends, Miss. We don’t own him. Pleased to meet you.”
“And I.” Gar inclined his head in greeting.
“They aren’t really guards,” Miles explained, “just wearing the livery as disguise. They’re from very far away, and don’t know a lot of our customs.”
“Are other counties so different?” Ciletha asked, looking at the horsemen with wide eyes.
“We’re from farther away than another county, I’m afraid,” Dirk said.
“Let’s ride while we talk,” Gar suggested. “If the moon was behind the city, it should be this way.”
“Yeah, well, that takes care of east versus west,” Dirk said as he pulled his horse around to fall in beside Gar’s, “but what do we do about north versus south?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find some sort of landmark,” Gar said easily.
Dirk shot him a calculating glare. “Yeah, I’ll just bet you will.” He turned back to Miles and Ciletha. “Coming, folks? Miles could ride with Gar, and you could ride with me, Ciletha.”
“I’d just as soon walk,” she said quickly, so of course Miles said, too, “I’ll walk.”
“Suit yourself,” Dirk said. “Horses can’t go much faster than people in a nighttime wood, anyway.” He turned to face forward again, leaving the two locals to follow.
“What of this lad who brought you into the wood?” Miles asked. “What was he like?”
“Oh, no taller than you,” Ciletha said, “and pudgy, most would call him. But he had large eyes, of the most beautiful brown you could think, and a cute little nose between high cheeks, with generous lips. He’s generous within, too, is Orgoru, though most folk won’t let him show it.”
Her tone was so warm that Miles knew she must be in love with the lout, and felt a stab of jealousy that surprised him—but he realized that, though Ciletha wasn’t beautiful, there was something of elfin charm to her face, to the shape of her nose and the tilt of her eyes, and beauty in those large orbs and their long lashes. He felt his own heart move strangely, and wondered if he were himself falling in love.
A stick cracked, and Ciletha froze. The horsemen halted, too. After a moment, Gar said, “Only a badger.” He clucked to his horse and moved on.
The others followed, but Ciletha’s eyes were wide, apprehensive. “Please, lad, let’s not talk. Those bandits might hear us and come back—and bring a bigger band.”
Miles smiled. “They’ll hear the horses in any case, lass, but I’ll admit that hooves might belong to deer. Nay, as you’ll have it.”
They went on in silence, following the horses.
Miles couldn’t help sneaking covert glances at Ciletha whenever they passed through a patch of moonlight. Dirty and ragged though she was, there was some elusive quality about her that held him fascinated. His attention seemed to make Ciletha uneasy, so he whispered, “ ‘Ware, now—there’s a root ahead.”
She recovered her composure and smiled. “I see it, lad. Don’t worry yourself about me—I’ve been a poacher seven years and more.”
“You?” Miles stared, for women were rarely poachers. “Aye, me. My father was ailing all that time, and I knew he needed meat.” Her tone hardened. “No, I didn’t leave him—he left me, through the gate of death.”