“Thank you,” Gwaynn said only semi-conscious of her touch. He was surprised to find that he could barely keep his eyes open. He saw her smile but was asleep again before she left the room.
The next day nearly all of Gwaynn’s strength had returned. Food, water, and a bed to rest in did wonders for exhaustion, plus he was young and his body was strong. Although he spent the day entirely in bed on Pugg’s orders, by evening he was anxious to rise and have a look about. He knew he was strong enough. He felt fine, but the doctor insisted that another day of rest would be a benefit and Gwaynn was too grateful to argue with him. Vio had not come to visit and Gwaynn was surprised to find that he was thinking of her despite all the more important thoughts that should have occupied his mind.
Just before sundown the doctor knocked and entered with a tray of food and slightly chilled water. Gwaynn sat up quickly, as the door opened and could not keep the disappointment off his face at the arrival of the doctor. Pugg noticed and smiled.
“Vio is off training on the north end of the island. She’ll not return for several days.”
Gwaynn shrugged. “I’m feeling much better,” he said and set the tray aside and moved to the edge of the bed. At first he thought the doctor might try to stop him, but the man said nothing, just watched, as Gwaynn, his legs still red from the sun, pushed off and stood in his nightshirt. It was truly no effort and as he walked around the feel for his balance returned almost instantly. His legs felt strong. He felt normal again.
“Good,” Pugg said watching closely. “I would say by tomorrow you should be well enough to leave the infirmary.”
Gwaynn frowned and moved back to the bed. He pulled his linen blanket back over him and gathered the tray close and began to eat.
“Where will I go?” he asked worried again. The world, once a place of beauty and wonder, was now filled with enemies.
This time Pugg shrugged. “Well, that will be up to you, and perhaps Tar Amon.”
Master Amon. Gwaynn had heard of him. He was the High Tar of the Island and a legendary swordsman. Even the High King did not cross the High Tar of Noble Island.
Gwaynn ate silently wondering what he should do; where he should go, and what his fate would be. He had no worries about Amon betraying him to his enemies. All of the Temple Islands were neutral, even the High King rarely chose sides in a dispute, and then only in an effort to end the conflict. It had been nearly three generations since the Temple Knights took to the field in battle, unless what Karl had told him was true, that the Knights had aided the Deutzani and fought against his people and family. The Knights were a deadly force, and not one of the families wanted them to be unleashed. Gwaynn could scarce believe that his father would have done something so foolish as to antagonize the King and his Knights. The legendary Knights were too well trained, an unstoppable force against which no one wanted to be pitted. Even the threat of such deployment had been enough to stop many wars in the past. It was only a fool who would go against the High King and his Knights. His father was no fool. Then the thought finally hit him. Why did the High King allow the Deutzani to attack and occupy Massi lands and kill the Massi royal family? To these questions, Gwaynn had no answers, and now he did not have anyone he could even ask. His mind went round and round as he ate, but he found no solutions, and of the doctor he asked no questions.
Pugg waited until the boy had finished his meal, surprised at the quiet reserve he found in him. It was something rare in one so young. But then he already knew that this was no ordinary boy. He was uncommonly quiet and circumspect even for someone who had survived a shipwreck and lost friends. He spoke very little of himself and changed the subject at the first possible moment when he himself was the topic of conversation. That he was of gentle blood was no longer in question. His speech and manners clearly gave that away, and though the boy let very little pertinent information slip about his true identity, Pugg was beginning to suspect he knew. He would talk to Tar Amon tonight about his suspicions. If he was correct, such news would bring about a firestorm. What the Tar would do about it however, was anyone’s guess.
ǂ
Afton Sath moved quietly in the night, now very near to his goal. He had spent the last couple of days deftly avoiding not only Zani patrols but also any local folk who might inadvertently report his travels. He patiently waited on the edge of the Fultan estate watching the main house closely. The Fultan’s had a very successful ale business and were relatively wealthy because of it, though from the modest size of the estate their wealth was not overly apparent. Beth Fultan, had died four years back in childbirth, and never believed in flaunting their wealth. She was generous to those who were in need, and Thomas, her husband also embraced such sentiments. It made them both very popular with the local community. Normally the estate bustled, going about the business of creating the country’s best ale, but today the estate was unusually quiet throughout the afternoon and early evening. Sath spotted only a minimal number of employed workers on site and most of them had left early in the day. From his previous visits, he knew that the Fultan’s also kept a minimal house staff, which if he remembered correctly consisted of one cook, a maid and her young daughter, plus Wellman, an old houseman who had been with Beth’s family for decades. The rest of the family consisted of Samantha, Thomas’ eldest at sixteen, perhaps seventeen, Arabelle, who Sath thought was about eleven, and the baby, a four year old named Karly, but everyone called her Beth after her mother who had died giving her life.
On occasions throughout the afternoon Sath caught sight of the two younger girls, but had seen nothing of Thomas or Samantha. Once the sun was completely down, but before it was utterly dark, he hopped the wooden rail fence and moved carefully toward the main house. He eased his way toward the back, covering his approach with the barn, and then a small tool shed that sat adjacent to the southeastern corner of the house. Carefully, quietly, he made his way past the shed and along the back wall of the main house and had nearly reached the door when Wellman opened it and stepped out into the night.
Sath maneuvered silently behind him. “Wellman,” he whispered, but the old man apparently did not hear because he did not react at all.
“Wellman,” Sath said louder, and the old man quickly stood straighter and looked about.
“Who?”
“It’s me. Afton Sath.”
Wellman smiled and stepped closer. “So it is,” he said and nodded.
“Is it safe here….now?” Sath asked and Wellman frowned.
“There are no Zani here, if that’s what you mean,” Wellman answered then without a word headed back to the house. “Patrols have come and gone, searched a bit, but left us well enough alone so far. They moved on farther to the south, but did help themselves to our reserves of ale.”
“That’s good,” Sath answered, perhaps a well ranking Deutzani knew of the ale brewed by Thomas Fultan, if so, it might keep him and his family safe.
“Come in, come in. Master Thomas will want to see you,” Wellman added holding the door open for Sath, who stepped inside. He entered the kitchen area, which was large and at the moment unused, though there was a bright fire burning in the large pit on the northern wall. “Sit,” the old man added, motioning to the sturdy wooded table and chairs across from the fire. “I will fetch Master Thomas.”