Greensleeves talked to a ladybug on a dandelion. Rats scuttled under the propped roof. Flies droned. The clockwork beast clumped and stumped in the distance. The giant, Liko, slept with his bandaged stump in the air.
Gull sat and did nothing.
There was nothing to do. He couldn't bury Cowslip or his family for fear of corruption. Come dark, the rats would have her. He couldn't find Sparrow Hawk. The boy might have been lost in the woods, or been captured by soldiers or the wizard, but more likely he was one of the many corpses that littered the valley. Gull couldn't even think of a reason to live, except to care for Greensleeves.
One by one, as shadows lengthened, the villagers gathered their pitiful belongings. One by one, they traipsed along the ruined road, north over the ridge. A few waved to Gull, but he didn't wave back.
By sunset, the last villager, old crippled Wolftooth, had passed out of sight.
Greensleeves came to Gull and mewed, a sign she was hungry. Gull took her hand.
"Yes. Time to eat. We'll hie to the woods. That's all that's left now."
He picked up his axe and bow and quiver, took his sister by the hand, and walked toward the whispering depths of the forest.
As if to welcome them home, the forest offered up a brace of fat pheasant that Gull knocked down easily. They found the clearing he'd made-only yesterday morning? Ash branches, which burned green, caught to his flint and steel. Rather than roast the birds, he gutted them, dug some mud, encased them feathers and all, and buried them in the ashes. They could eat later. Gull wasn't hungry, and Greensleeves was wandering again, cooing to some doves in a birch copse. He thought he should restrain her, keep her close to hand, for who knew what evil still lurked. He'd seen signs of goblins. But keeping Greensleeves was like holding smoke. She went where she would. The gods would have to protect her-Gull couldn't do everything.
Flossy was glad to see her master, and even Knothead accepted scratches on his stiff mane without biting. Unhobbled, the mules had nevertheless stayed near the clearing, foraging and awaiting his return. He found that oddly comforting. Gull told them, "You've fared well, I see. Better than White Ridge. 'Tis good. Our old home is no more, so perhaps this haunted wood is our new one…"
And suddenly he was sobbing, his face pressed to the mules' necks. The poor beasts were confused, but they stood still.
Gull's grief didn't last long, for there sounded a clumping of many feet in the darkness outside the fire ring.
Soldiers! screamed his tired mind.
Frantic, more for his mules and sister than himself, Gull snatched up his axe. Where was Greensleeves, damn it? He couldn't let her wander. Things were dangerous enough Into the circle of yellow light tripped the two centaurs, Helki and Holleb.
They danced to a halt, tails switching gently. They planted the butts of their lances near their forefeet. With firelight glistening on breastplates and closed helmets, their upper bodies looked more like caterpillars than humans. Gull waited with his axe in two hands.
The silence dragged. Light glistened from glossy hides and Gull's axe head, reflected off white-veined leaves that rustled above. A knot popped in the fire, spraying sparks. Gull stepped on a patch of grass that flared. Otherwise, no one moved.
Helki, the talker, broke the silence. "We… saw you… talk… to your mules. They are fine animals…"
They'd seen him crying? Suddenly Gull was mortified. Absently he rubbed his face. He was so tired and battered he could sleep a week.
Yet the centaurs' remarks weren't meant to embarrass, but to open conversation. Gull replied, "Thank you." Remembering his manners, he dropped his axe till the head rested on the ground. "Would you share my fire?"
The plumed helmet nodded. The centaurs' eyes were shadowed within, but Helki's voice was civil. "Thank you. We would. Fire is nice on a cold night."
"Yes," was all Gull could say. But they waited for more. "I talked to Liko, the giant. He too was a slave to the wizard's will, as you must be."
"Is true," said Holleb. His voice was harsher than Helki's, rough as gravel sliding down a hill.
"So," said Gull, "I owe you an apology. I'm… sorry."
The centaurs conferred in their own language- horse talk, Gull thought it. Finally, Helki reported, "We are sorry also. For the loss of your homeland. But we were under geas, compulsion deep in our minds that we must obey, and could not but fight."
"I understand. Now."
"Since we all speak true, we must talk."
"If you insist," Gull sighed, too tired to argue. "But talk of what? There's nothing left. You might as well return to your homeland."
"We have no way to return," Helki said. For the first time, Gull heard a catch in her voice. "It is impossible."
Gull dug up the mud-baked pheasants, broke the hard shells, separated skin and feathers from brown meat. Laying the carcasses on a stump, Gull cut them into threes. He'd offered the centaurs some. Greensleeves could fend for herself, finding mast, mushrooms and teaberries and such, in the forest. She didn't much like meat anyway, and would probably just leave it.
As he worked, the centaurs shed their armor. Their breastplates fastened in front, yet they helped one another as if they couldn't touch enough. Breastplates and helmets hooked to the harness on their backs, where already there hung haversacks for food, pouches for tools and gear, a coil of rope, a water bottle. Even the lances slid into loops along their left sides. Come what might, Gull realized, the two could dash off in a second's notice.
Yet he barely noticed this, for staring-while trying not to stare-at their fantastic shapes.
Their revealed faces were ordinary enough, even pleasant, though they had prominent yellow teeth. Covering their pates was short reddish hair that matched their bodies, though their manes continued almost to their foreheads. Their bellies were whitish, though Holleb was covered with matted hair, while Helki had flatfish breasts with brown nipples that stuck up thick as a thumb joint.
Finally, the man and the horse-folk sat by the fire, the centaurs with legs tucked underneath. Even sitting they looked delicate and graceful. With his maimed hand and bad knee and axe scars, Gull felt clumsy and old. He proferred the pheasants on slabs of bark, and the centaurs accepted graciously. In return, from a haversack Holleb produced a block of dried orange fruit, pried off a slice. It was "apricot," and good.
They ate in silence a while, then Gull offered, "I understand little of what happened here, no more than an ant understands a lightning storm. How did you fall under the sway of that wizard? And why can you not return home?"
"We understand not much more," sighed Helki. "Our people live on steppes and taiga we call Green Lands near Honeyed Sea. Far to the east, to judge by sun. Ours is border country, where often are wars. We train as warriors from small child time, work as scouts for good causes. But one time wizard-not a native, traveler-hire us to survey land. We were unsure, but gave service as asked. Wizard thanked each by shaking hand. Then she gone."
"Gone? You mean she disappeared?"
"No. Mounted horse, rode off with servants. We think nothing of it. But of a sudden, one day, I and Holleb find us on battlefield, like day past. Wizard is there, now our mistress, we know not how. Geas placed on us, we must obey commands. Outside, we obey, though inside rebel, but do no good. As if had two minds in one, one rule, one submit. Fight dwarves, we did, small folk but strong, and bull-people. Then battle stall, and we home again. Like dream, except left scars." She showed her left elbow, striped with a white slash. "Happen twice more, always somewhere different. When battle done, wizard wave hands, send us home.
"Then comes day past. Scout and fight here. But when battle done, wizard is gone. No one to send us home."