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The question was, how much trouble were they in?

Had Chad and Oles worked alone? Had they planned to… what? Kill Gull for revenge, over a few insults? Not likely, since they'd used clubs and not swords. Sell Greensleeves to prostitution? Slavery? Sell both of them? Lily had warned merchants sometimes kidnapped landsmen, "crimped" them to be sailors, since seafaring was a harsh and miserable life. Was Greensleeves bound for a harem? Whom had they been after, exactly?

And more importantly, and darkly Had Towser sent them?

Gull disliked Towser as a man, considering him foppish and superior and snotty and fussy, but perhaps all people of education or position were that way. Still, he hadn't minded working for him, as the wizard was a fair and undemanding master. Mostly Towser was distracted and aloof, his head full of mystical plans and problems. Gull didn't trust him, but had no reason to distrust him.

Until now.

So what to do? Approach Towser and demand the truth? Would anyone in the entourage help if treachery were afoot? Morven, maybe, Stiggur, perhaps. Lily, of course, but where was she? He'd felt her slump, but then she'd disappeared. Crawled off? Hauled off?

A thousand questions and no answers. Nothing made sense.

As always, he spoke to his sister, as to his mules, to clarify his thoughts. "Any ideas, Greenie?"

He got his biggest shock of the night.

She answered.

"N-no."

Gull rubbed his brow. Maybe he'd been thumped on the head without knowing it. Quietly, he asked, "What did you say?"

"No…"

"You can understand me?"

"Y-yes…" Her voice was hesitant. Also pleasant, he noted, like birdsong, or his mother's singing. But very slow, as if she had to fathom each word. In the shadowed glen, he couldn't see her eyes, but sensed she watched him.

For the first time in her life, she showed intelligence. "A-always c-could."

"Could what?"

"Under-stand… I kn-knowed you were th-there, but h-hard to-to-I c-couldn't-" She flapped small hands in exasperation. "I-heared you. B-but there was-was so much el-se. Birds. Flow-ers… Sk-sky…"

Her brother strove to understand. "You always knew my words, but other things distracted you?"

"Yes… yes!" Her voice became animated, like a child's.

Gull pondered. When he was young, a father in the village had fallen from a roof. He'd landed on his head and almost died. Forever after, he'd be some days foggy-minded, some days clear-headed. Brain-damaged, in short, like his sister at birth.

Or so they'd thought. Now she was lucid. Had she been hit on the head too?

"Why can you suddenly talk so well? Do you know?"

"T-trees," she intoned.

"Trees?"

"Too much trees. All around." Gesturing, she formed a canopy over her head. "W-words of trees- talked in my head. Told me… stories."

"Whispers? The Whispering Woods? You heard stories?"

She nodded, her face a pale blob in the semidarkness.

Gull scratched his head, found a crusty scab that stung. So… the mystery of the Whispering Woods was solved, partly. The trees did talk. Except normal folk couldn't understand them, as if they spoke a foreign tongue. But his poor benighted sister heard their songs and secrets, so many they overwhelmed her poor brain.

So that meant…

"Oh! We left the Whispering Woods behind when we struck the pine barrens… Then a few days of travel… and you started to talk. Oh! Once clear of the forest, your mind cleared!"

"Yes. T-talk on my own, now. To you. Br-brother Gull."

Gull was surprised at the sob that choked him. His name, so sweet coming from his sister-who'd lost her mind and found it.

Grabbing, he squeezed her till she squeaked. "Sq-squash me… Gull."

"Yes," was all he could say.

Then it struck him. He held his sister at arm's length. "Oh, my. All this time I took you to the forest because you loved it so, and to keep you out of trouble, and here the forest clouded your mind! It's my fault you were-stricken."

"No," her smile was gentle, "I-I love the w-woods. I-"

She stopped. Hunting the right word, Gull assumed. But her glance went over his head, into the moonlit sky.

Within bowshot, hovering against the canopy of stars, a man flew.

A dozen thoughts crashed upon Gull.

They'd been found! By Towser!

And the bastard could fly! So it had been he and not the brown-robed wizard who'd flown over White Ridge and unleashed the weakness!

And now he hunted Gull and Greensleeves. Probably not to succor his lost lambs.

"Get down!" Gull hissed. He mashed his sister flat, leaned over her. But it was probably too late. Between the hush of surf and hum of sea breeze, and excitement over their fantastic discoveries, they'd talked normally. Anyone nearby could have heard them, especially in the air. Gull knew that from climbing trees.

He looked again, but the wizard was gone. Was that good or bad? Either, they must get away.

A barbarian shout shook the night, issuing from a score of throats. Gull had heard that before, far away Brush rattled, thrashed, split. A blue-painted warrior, white-haired and tusked, armed with a curved sword and leather shield, charged. Gull shoved Greensleeves, ordering her to flee, then lifted his sword-knowing full well he was no swordsman. But even if the barbarian killed him… But there were a score or more: he'd heard them shout… How many could he battle before he was killed? One? Who'd guard Greensleeves then…?

Another blue barbarian burst into the clearing, and a third and fourth, men and women. Gull didn't know which way to point. The invaders smelled oddly sweet: their blue color must be berry juice. They panted from their shout, growled with battle lust.

Gull stood ready to kill or be killed. But Greensleeves A shadow like an eagle's swooped overhead, and Gull swooned. So weak he couldn't stand, his knees buckled. His sword arm drooped.

He landed on his sister, who'd also sunk. A blue-painted man collapsed too, tusks striking rock with a sickening crunch. Another. But more barbarians thrashed into the clearing.

With the flat of their swords, they whipped Gull as if threshing grain. A blade hammered his arm, his thigh, his shoulder, his head Lights twitched, faded, came back into focus. Someone called outside the circle. The beating stopped as the barbarians grunted in a guttural tone. As a half dozen pinned Gull's arms, a woman raised her club high, took aim.

The heavens crashed down on Gull's head, stunning him. Stars whirled around the compass.

And winked out.

Voices woke him. Towser's. Kem's. Felda's.

For a moment he imagined he woke beneath the chuck wagon, as always, while people talked around the morning fire and waited for Felda to serve breakfast. Suddenly he felt a great and surprising pang of homesickness for those simple times.

But he couldn't move, and when he tried, ached all over. He could only open one eye, for the other was swollen shut. Biting down a groan, he pried open his good eye.

It was still full night. His arms trailed over his head, swollen and dead from lack of circulation, bound to a wagon wheel. The four wagons were circled, and he was lashed to the chuck wagon.

By campfire light, the scene was almost normal. Knoton the clerk sat on his wagon seat, looking ill at ease. Dancing girls peeked from various wagons. Lily was there, looking fatigued and anxious, and Gull wondered if she too had betrayed him, deliberately led him into a trap on that street. But the brawny Jonquil hovered close behind, and when Lily would have spoken, yanked her head back sharply by the hair. Felda sat dumpy on a box to one side, next to the old astrologer. Stiggur leaned from the chuck wagon over Gull's head, looking as if he'd cry. The nurse and bard were nowhere in sight. Kem with his scars and missing ear, Morven the sailor, and the partistriped wizard Towser stood with jacks of ale by the fire.

Greensleeves sat next to the clerk on Towser's wagon, hands tied behind her back, head throbbing.