“If it would make you feel any better,” Conrad said, “I would be delighted to kick you in the rump. That might ease your conscience, which seems to be so sorely smarting.”
“If you truly would, sir,” said Andrew eagerly, “making certain that it is a lusty kick, with no power in it held back in consideration of me as a companion of the road.”
He turned around and bent over, hiking up his robe to present his bare and scrawny bottom.
“Stop this buffoonery,” snapped Duncan. “It is ill behavior in a soldier of the Lord to present his bony ass to his boon companions. Let down your robe and straighten, like a man. Sir Hermit, henceforth I shall expect more propriety of you.”
Andrew let down his robe and straightened up.
Conrad said to Duncan, “It might have been better, m’lord, if you had allowed me. There must be something done to stiffen up his spine and make a better soldier of him. And anyhow, a swift kick in the stern never yet has failed to help a malefactor.”
Duncan held up his hand for silence. “Listen,” he said. “Quiet, all of you, and listen.”
Faintly, from far away, came the sound of shouting and of screams. At times the sounds gained somewhat in volume and at other times shrank to no more than a whisper in the wind.
“From the strand,” said Conrad. “It is from the direction of the strand.”
They listened further. The distant and muffled yelling and screaming kept on. For a time it seemed to stop and then it took up again and finally it did stop and there was nothing to be heard.
“The Reaver’s men,” said Conrad. “They met up with someone.”
“Perhaps the hairless ones,” said Andrew.
They stood for long moments listening, but nothing further happened. The first light of the sun was flushing the east and the birds were chirping in the woods below them.
“We should know,” said Conrad. “If the fight, if that is what it was, has swept them from the strand, then we could use it safely and make our way through these cursed hills without all the labor that it would be to climb them.”
“Let me go,” said Andrew. “I shall be very careful. I shall not let them see me. Let me, please, to disclose to you my newfound resolution to be a trustworthy member of this company.”
“No,” said Duncan. “No, we stay here. We do not move from here. We have no way of knowing what might have happened. And should they come against us, here at least we have a chance to make a stand against them.”
Meg chirped at Duncan’s elbow. “Then, dear sir, please let me be the one,” she said. “Certainly, if they should come against us you could spare my feeble strength. But I can go and bring back to you a report of what happened with all the shouting and the yelling.”
“You?” asked Conrad. “You can barely crawl about. All this time with us, you’ve ridden to preserve your little strength.”
“I can manage it,” protested Meg. “I can go through the underbrush like a scuttling spider. I can use what little magic I still may have left in me. I can get there and back, bringing word.”
Conrad looked at Duncan questioningly.
“Maybe,” said Duncan. “Maybe she could do it. Is it, Meg, something that you want to do?”
“Little enough I have done,” said Meg. “So far I’ve been no more than a burden to you.”
“We do need to know,” said Duncan. “We could sit on this hilltop for days, not knowing. It is important that we know. But we can’t split up our small force to send another one of us to scout the situation.”
“If only Ghost were here,” said Conrad.
“Ghost isn’t here,” said Duncan.
“Then I may go,” said Meg.
Duncan nodded and she swiftly scuttled down the hill. For a time they stood and watched her as she darted through the trees, but finally she was lost from view.
Duncan walked back to a group of stone slabs that at one time had broken off and fallen from the rocky ridge.
Choosing one of the slabs, he sat down upon it. Conrad seated himself on one side of him and Andrew on the other.
Silently, the three of them sat in a row. Tiny came ambling around the mass of broken slabs and lay down ponderously in front of Conrad. Down the slope Daniel and Beauty cropped at a patch of scanty grass.
So here they were, thought Duncan, sitting side by side on a slab of riven stone in a godforsaken wilderness, three adventurers and about as sorry a lot as ever could be found.
His belly ached with hunger, but he did not mention it to the others, for without a doubt, they were hungry, too, and there was no sense talking of it. Before the day was over, certainly by tomorrow, they would have to find some food. Tiny might be able to pull down a deer if one was to be found, but thinking back on it, Duncan remembered that they had seen no deer nor any other game except occasional rabbits. Tiny could catch rabbits and did, for his own eating, but probably would not be able to catch enough of them to provide food for everyone. Probably there were roots and berries and other provender in the woods that could ease their hunger, but he would not know where to look or what to choose, and be doubted that any of the others did. Perhaps Meg could be of help. As a witch, she might have knowledge of the food provided by the woods, for she would have been concerned with finding certain materials that went into her potions.
He thought of what they’d do next and of the way ahead, and found that he was shuddering away from it. They had made little progress so far, and in making the little that they had, they had run into a lot of trouble. Now they would be traveling without Wulfert’s amulet and without it, the trouble might get worse. The amulet, he was convinced, had helped them with the hairless ones, the enchantment and the werewolves, and yet, come to think of it, he knew that he was wrong. The amulet could not have been of help with the hairless ones, for it was not until after their encounter with them that he had acquired it. Although that, he thought, might have been simply happenstance.
Certainly the amulet must have been some protection against the enchantment and the werewolves. Perhaps the victory over the hairless ones could be explained by something else — perhaps by Diane and her griffin. The hairless ones, until the last moment, probably had not expected to face Diane and the griffin along with the rest of them. Yes, he said to himself, thinking foggily, that must be the explanation.
And yet, with the amulet or without it, he knew he would go on, by whatever means, under no matter what kind of circumstances. He had no choice; he had fought out the issue that night when he’d lain in the hermit’s cave. The long history of his heritage made no other decision possible. And when he went on, the others would go with him — Conrad, because the two of them were close to being brothers, Andrew because of the mad obsession with being a soldier of the Lord. And Meg? There was no reason for Meg to continue with them, no advantage for her to gain, but he was sure she would.
The sun had climbed far up the sky and there was a drowsiness in the air — a soft, warm drowsiness. Duncan found himself nodding, half asleep. He pulled himself erect, drew in great breaths of air to force himself back to wakefulness, and in a few minutes” time was nodding once again. His body ached and his wrists were sore from the chafing of the bonds. His gut was an empty howl of hunger. He craved sleep. If he could only go to sleep, he thought, maybe when he woke the soreness and the ache, perhaps even the sharpness of the hunger, would be gone. But he could not go to sleep, he must not sleep. Not now. Not yet. Later there would come a time for sleep.
Beside him Conrad came to his feet, staring down the slope. He took a half-step forward, as if unsure of himself, then he said, “There she is.”