If I were twenty years younger: he began.
Then he sighed and had to be honest with himself. Make that thirty years, he thought.
13
I F SHE HADN'T SPOKEN, THEY WOULD HAVE TAKEN HER FOR A boy. It was the soft voice that gave her away. She stood at the edge of the campsite, a slender figure with blond hair cut short-to a boy's length-dressed in a ragged tunic, breeches and soft leather boots, bound up to the knee. A stained and torn sheepskin vest seemed to be her only protection against the cold mountain nights, for she wore no cloak and carried no blankets. Just a small bandanna tied into a bundle, which, presumably, contained all her belongings.
"Where the devil did you spring from?" Gilan asked, turning to face her. He sheathed his saxe knife as he did so and allowed Carney to fall gratefully to his knees, exhausted.
The girl, who Will could now see was around his own age and, underneath a liberal coating of dirt, remarkably pretty, gestured vaguely.
"Oh:" She paused uncertainly, trying to gather her thoughts, and Will realized she was close to the point of exhaustion. "I've been hiding out in the hills for several weeks now," she said finally. Will had to admit she looked as if she had been.
"Do you have a name?" asked Gilan, not unkindly. He too could see the girl was worn-out.
She hesitated. She appeared uncertain as to whether to give them her name or not.
"Evanlyn Wheeler, from Greenfield Fief," she said. Greenfield was a small coastal fief in Araluen. "We were here visiting friends:" She stopped and looked away from Gilan. She seemed to be thinking for a second, before she amended the statement. "Rather, my mistress was visiting friends, when the Wargals attacked."
"Wargals!" Will said, the word jerked from him, and she turned a level pair of brilliant green eyes upon him. As he looked into them, he realized she was more than pretty. Much, much more. She was beautiful. The strawberry blond hair and green eyes were complemented by a small, straight nose and a full mouth that Will thought would look quite delightful if she were smiling. But right now, a smile was a long way from the girl's thoughts. She gave a sad little lift of her shoulders as she answered him.
"Where did you think all the people have gone?" she asked him. "Wargals have been attacking towns and villages throughout this part of Celtica for weeks now. The Celts couldn't stand against them. They were driven out of their homes. Most of them escaped to the Southwest Peninsula. But some were captured. I don't know what's happened to them."
Gilan and the two boys exchanged looks. Deep down, they'd all been expecting to hear something of the kind. Now it was out in the open.
"I thought I saw Morgarath's hand behind all this," Gilan said softly, and the girl nodded, tears forming in her eyes. One of them slid down her cheek, tracking its way through the grime there. She put a hand to her eyes, and her shoulders began to shake. Quickly, Gilan stepped forward and caught her just before she fell. He lowered her gently to the ground, leaning her against one of the rocks that the boys had positioned around the fireplace. His voice was gentle and compassionate now.
"It's all right," he said to her. "You're safe now. Just rest here and we'll get you something hot to eat and drink." He glanced quickly at Horace. "Get a fire going, please, Horace. Just a small one. We're fairly sheltered here and I think we can risk it. And Will," he added, raising his voice so that it carried clearly, "if that bandit makes another move to get away, would you mind shooting him through the leg?"
Carney, who had taken the opportunity created by Evanlyn's surprising appearance to begin crawling quietly away toward the surrounding rocks, now froze where he was. Gilan threw an angry glare at him, then revised his orders.
"On second thoughts, you do the fire, Will. Horace, tie those two up."
The two boys moved quickly to the tasks he had set them. Satisfied that everything was in hand, Gilan now removed his own cloak and wrapped it around the girl. She had covered her face with both hands and her shoulders were still shaking, although she made no noise. He put his arms around her and murmured gently, reassuring her once more that she was safe.
Gradually, her silent, racking sobs diminished and her breathing became more regular. Will, engaged in heating a pot of water for a hot drink, looked at her in some surprise as he realized that she'd fallen asleep. Gilan motioned for silence and said quietly:
"She's obviously been under a great strain. It's best to let her sleep. You might prepare one of those excellent stews that Halt taught you to make."
In his pack, Will carried a selection of dried ingredients that, when blended together in boiling water and simmered, resulted in delicious stews. They could be augmented by any fresh meat and vegetables that the travelers picked up along the way, but even without them, they made a far tastier meal than the cold rations the three had been eating that day.
He set a large bowl of water over the fire and soon had a delicious beef stew simmering and filling the cold evening air with its scent. At the same time, he produced their dwindling supply of coffee and set the enamel pot full of water in the hot embers to the side of the main fire. As the water bubbled and hissed to boiling, he lifted the lid of the pot with a forked stick and tossed in a handful of grounds. Soon the aromatic scent of fresh coffee mingled with the stew and their mouths began to water. Around the same time, the savory smells must have penetrated Evanlyn's consciousness. Her nose twitched delicately, then those startling green eyes flicked open. For a second or two, there was alarm in them as she tried to remember where she was. Then she caught sight of Gilan's reassuring face and she relaxed a little.
"Something smells awfully good," she said and he grinned at her.
"Perhaps you could try a bowlful and then tell us what's been going on in these parts." He made a sign to Will to heap an enamel bowl full of the stew. It was Will's own bowl, as they didn't have any spare eating utensils. His stomach growled as he realized he'd have to wait until Evanlyn had finished eating before he could. Horace and Gilan, of course, simply helped themselves.
Evanlyn began wolfing down the savory stew with an enthusiasm that showed she hadn't eaten in days. Gilan and Horace also set to quite happily. A whining voice came from the far rock wall where Horace had tied the two bandits, sitting them back to back.
"Can we have something to eat, sir?" asked Carney. Gilan barely paused between mouthfuls and threw a disdainful glance at them.
"Of course not," he said, and went back to enjoying his dinner.
Evanlyn seemed to realize that, aside from the bandits, only Will wasn't eating. She glanced down at the plate and spoon she was holding, looked at the identical implements being used by Gilan and Horace, and seemed to realize what had happened.
"Oh," she said, looking apologetically at Will, "would you like to:?" She offered the enamel plate to him. Will was tempted to share it with her, but realized that she must be nearly starving. In spite of her offer, he could see that she was hoping he'd refuse. He decided that there was a difference between being hungry, which he was, and starving, which she was, and shook his head, smiling at her.
"You go ahead," he said. "I'll eat when you've finished."
He was a little disappointed when she didn't insist, but went back to wolfing down great spoonfuls of the stew, pausing occasionally for a deep draft of hot, freshly brewed coffee. As she ate, it seemed that a little color returned to her cheeks. She cleaned the plate and looked wistfully at the stewpot still hanging over the fire. Will took the hint and ladled out another healthy dollop of stew and she set to once again, hardly pausing to breathe. This time, when the plate was empty, she smiled shyly and handed it back to him.