The Book of Korum

  Chapter 11 - The Bard's Tale

  Dismally, Tasha looked at the road ahead of them and sighed. It had snowed almost constantly for two solid days. Fortunately, it was becoming quite warm so the snow didn't appear to last for very much longer. Still, the ways were treacherous and hardly a joy to travel through as they neared the end of their third day on the road since battling the Sunraiders.

  She shivered and huddled deeper into her down-filled cloak, trying to wrap as much warmth around herself that she possibly could. The twin children on either side of looked up in alarm as if they'd done something wrong. Tasha smiled down at them. "Don't worry," she said soothingly. "It's all right; I'm just a bit cold." Both of the children sighed and snuggled in closer to her, trying to fall back to sleep.

  Tasha leaned back against the wagon and closed her eyes. Weariness passed over her with every breath that she took. It had been a rough couple of days since their battle with the Sunraiders. The children had been constantly getting underfoot, crying incoherently one moment then clinging to Tasha the next. Ceorn, Hal and Ambori had taken the wagon, fixed it up well enough to travel and had gathered what supplies remained from the rest of the caravan before they’d resumed their journey.

  To make matters worse, Tasha hadn't been sleeping well. She was allowed precious little of it to begin with, what with night watches and the stressful conditions. But when she was allowed to finally drop off, her dreams were horrid. The nightmares of Xir in the Prison of Mist had been replaced with fresh images of screaming faces contorted in agony. Memories of people dying by her own hand, being butchered like animals.

  Tasha tried to remind herself that she'd only done what she had to do. It didn't help. All that she could think about was the blood running over her hands. Of the blood that splashed her in the face when her opponent coughed out his last breath.

  The blood...

  Ceorn hadn't been much of help. He too always seemed upset at having to kill an opponent, for a second or two at least. It made Tasha shudder to see how easily the kelt could shrug away the brutality that he caused, as if the person who had done it was a totally separate individual from the amorous and amusing man telling stories loudly around the dinnertime campfire.

  Garnthalisbain had been even less help. Every time she tried to talk with him about her concerns the mage would be far too irritable and would do nothing except whine about how much his hand hurt.

  Hal had been the most comforting in his oddly quiet way. He simply listened to everything she said, nodding when appropriate and basically saying nothing. Not that the big oaf was trying to be obstinate, for he would never do that. He just didn't know what to say, as usual. So he would simply stand there and listen.

  Tasha raised her head and found herself watching Hal. He was leading the wagon's horses by the reins, continually prodding them along with a gentle tug every now and again. His shoulders shifted noticeably beneath his cloak and jerkin, adding a peculiar gait to his long-legged stride. His breath was steaming out of his mouth in thick, heavy clouds. His scraggly hair was pressed to his scalp as the effort of their journey finally began to catch up with him.

  Approximately a mile or two up the road Tasha could see Ceorn leaning heavily against a tree. He had spent most of the last three days scouting ahead of the wagon, checking for possible ambushes or other highwaymen. After the episode with the Sunraiders no one, in the party wanted to take any chances. And it seemed inevitable that someone would come looking for their fallen comrades eventually.

  Ceorn had earned his rest. He continually took the first watch after spending an entire day running ahead of the party and then reporting back to give the all clear. Only on three occasions had Ambori relieved him. And those occasions came only near the end of a day's travel or after the time Ceorn had stumbled and twisted his ankle. Ambori spent the rest of his time in the wagon with the ladies, trying to keep their spirits up and assisting Garn with their medical needs.

  The little boy, Nichos, shifted in her arms and slid down the seat a little bit, almost stretching right out on the riding bench. His sister, Nicalla, yawned hugely and snuggled in closer. Tasha smiled wistfully down at the twins and closed her eyes. Stretching out with her mental abilities she gently probed into their thoughts. At the surface they seemed calm and stable, yet beneath that was a seething fear. A roiling, frightened lump of ice that kept the children on edge even in quiet moments like this.

  Tasha sent gentle, soothing thoughts trickling into their heads. She did it slowly so as not to alarm them. Tasha wished she could erase their fears instead of just diminishing them.

  When Tasha opened her eyes again the twins were fast asleep and their faces were at peace.

  Tasha leaned back again and felt a headache coming on. She'd been pushing her abilities just about as far as they would go for the last couple of days. What with her soothing of the children, her assistance with the women on Garn’s behalf and reaching out to the landscape surrounding their group on the lookout for trouble.

  All of that was exhausting work, especially helping the abused women.

  The redheaded girl, Shiann, hadn't been too difficult to help sadly. It turns out that this wasn’t the first time she’d been taken advantage of by a group of toughs, as disgusting as Tasha found that. Consequently, Shiann had just needed to be calmed down and soothed. To be assured that she was in a safe zone and amongst people who only wanted to help her. It took a while, but it wasn't exceedingly difficult. Now Shiann spent most her time saying nothing and looking at nothing, cringing every time someone raised their voice or looked at her for too long a moment. But that was a marked improvement over her initial terrified reactions.

  The brunette, Renora, had been a struggle solely because of the condition she'd been in when they’d dispatched the ‘Raiders. Tasha had first tried to enter Renora's mind while she was still in chains. This was a mistake. Ceorn had been clawed across the arm in a screaming rage as he attempted to release her. Renora’s thoughts were like seeing into a red mist. It took several tries for Tasha to pierce that cloud and help her to calm down, but even then Renora thrashed against them – physically and mentally. Eventually Tasha was forced to put Renora to sleep, which was an excruciatingly difficult task the first time Tasha'd tried it but one that got easier with practice. And with Renora, she had been getting a lot of practice.

  Finally, there was Lanarra, the twins' mother. Stepping into her mind was like entering into a completely empty room with only one item in it. That item being a small safe that you could fit in the palm of your hand. Tasha threw every image, idea and thought that she could think of at that safe but never once got a response. Every time she tried, Tasha had been unable to even get a reaction out of Lanarra. She was, at least temporarily, beyond reach.

  Suddenly Tasha realized that the wagon had just reached Ceorn. The kelt was jogging over to the wagon with a concerned look on his face. Tasha frowned, wondering what the matter was.

  That was when she noticed Hal.

  What she had assumed to be a 'peculiar gait' had turned into a full blown limp. Hal was staggering forward, his breath ragged and explosive. Finally, just strides away from the kelt, he stumbled forward and collapsed to the slushy snow.

  Ceorn cursed aloud and sprinted to the big man. Tasha stood up with a cry and lunged for the horse’s bridle. She snagged a piece of it with one outstretched hand and hauled back on it. The horses whinnied painfully but stopped just short of Hal's prone form. The twins, awake again from Tasha's violent jolt, sat up in alarm. Nicalla sniffled a bit, about to cry. But Nichos dropped to the snow and waded through to Hal's side, concern on his young face. Hal had displayed his charm with kids during his time with the twins and had almost completely won the boy over.

  Tasha finally vaulted down from the wagon and rushed to Hal's side. Ceorn was busy rolling the big man over onto his back. Nichos was perched right over the kelt's shoulder, continually asking: "Is he all right?"

  Hal's features
were completely slack. Tasha cried out in alarm as she saw the blood that had soaked into the snow. "What happened?" she asked Ceorn, very upset. "We're not under attack, are we?"

  The kelt pulled back Hal's cloak and gasped. The right leg of Hal's pants was soaked from the top of his thigh down to his ankle with blood. Ceorn looked up at Tasha grimly. "I think we found the' problem, lass." At that point he screamed out for Ambori and Garn.

  Tasha immediately found her attention drawn away from Hal. Nicalla was sobbing uncontrollably again. Tasha enfolded the blonde-haired girl in her arms and rocked her soothingly back and forth.

  Ambori vaulted out of the wagon like an arrow. His hat and cape were missing though the rest of his flamboyant outfit was still perfectly intact. He took in the situation with a glance and sped over to assist the kelt. Ceorn took the bulk of Hal's impressive weight and slipped his arms around the big man's girth while the bard took hold at the knees. With much grunting and cursing the two men were able to carry Hal into the wagon. Nichos continued to hop up and down, trying to get a good look at Hal's face.

  Tasha followed into the dim wagon with both of the twins. She held back Nichos by his jerkin and continued to console Nicalla. Her gaze never left Hal's ashen face.

  Garn was cursing like a madman. With a snarl and a wave of his arm he motioned for Ceorn and the bard to lay Hal down atop the table. Over in the corner sat Lanarra, huddled up in her cloak and remaining perfectly motionless. Her eyes were open but they saw nothing, registered nothing and acknowledged nothing. Shiann squealed in fright at the sight of Hal's blood and began to stammer in alarm, afraid that they were under attack again. Renora her face like an angry thundercloud, strode to Garn's side and tried to assist him in his efforts.

  After a few brief moments in which the mage tried to concentrate, Garn snapped his head up and bellowed: "Do you people mind? I'm trying to work here!" He shook his head in annoyance and pointed at Ambori. "Get her and the kids out of here, keep them busy." The bard nodded, surprisingly wordless, and gathered up Shiann and the twins. Within moments their crying and panicked sounds were outside where no one could hear them.

  Tasha tried to step up to the table but a fierce look from Garnthalisbain kept her back. Ceorn slipped his arm over her shoulders and held her comfortingly. Tasha's eyes were riveted to Hal. At the blood. At his face. She shuddered and pressed up against Ceorn for support. He stood firm and held her.

  Garn was forcing Hal's eyelids up and was peering into his pupils. He poked and prodded at his neck and chest, checking for and finding a pulse. The mage frowned. "Why in the hell are you palpitating?" he muttered under his breath at the big man.

  Renora slipped Hal's sandal-like boot off, dropping it to the floor. Tasha was astonished to see not a single blister along the bottom of Hal's foot. Her own feet were red and sore from all of the walking. Hal’s were completely calloused over, almost like leather. Renora attempted to tear the blood-soaked pant leg up the main seam but was having difficulty in finding it, on account of his breeches having been re-stitched so many times in the past. Finally she cursed and just tore. The pant leg split many different times and was effectively shredded to nothing but material. No one took notice of much else beyond his wound.

  Garn stared at the gash in Hal's leg and was speechless. Finally he gestured to Renora. "Get me a pot of snow, as clean as possible." Without a sound, the girl fled from the wagon, cooking pot in hand. Garn reached into one of his pouches and withdrew several herbs and a clean silk cloth.

  The mage's mouth was a grim line. "If Hal wakes up I swear I'll punch him right back out again," he muttered darkly. He swung his gaze to Tasha and the kelt for a brief second. "If I'm not mistaken," he began. "This is the same wound that Hal sustained in our confrontation with the Sunraiders. You know, the one that he insisted was 'just a scratch'?"

  Ceorn nodded his head. "Aye. I remember it lookin' bad. However, he was insist'nt."

  Tasha looked at the both of them in surprise. "I didn't even know that he'd been injured. Why didn't either one of you say anything?"

  Garn flushed in embarrassed for a brief moment. Then he removed what appeared to be the remnants of a bandage from Hal's leg. He held it up for Tasha to see. "After I patched him up with this, he made me promise not to tell you Tash'." She stared at the mage in shock. Garn shook his head regretfully. "He said that after the incident on the boat, he was beginning to feel like the burden that you feared he'd be. Consequently, he didn't want you to know. Especially not after the fuss he made about fighting the Sunraiders in the first place."

  Renora returned at that moment, cutting off Tasha's response for the moment. She did, however, file it away for later argumentative purposes.

  Garn instructed the girl to place the pot on the table next to Hal. Once she did, Garn's eyes narrowed and his gaze focused on the snow. Tasha felt a brief surge of static as the mage softly whispered a single word. Within a second the snow was reduced to steaming, boiling water. Garn let it boil off for several moments before dipping the silken rag in. He winced slightly at the heat but made no comment. Removing the cloth from the water, he wrung it out once before handing it to Renora. "Here," he said briskly. "Use this to wipe away the blood and clean out the wound." She nodded fervently and began to sponge away the sticky red mass as Garn took another pot and exited the wagon.

  As the steaming rag touched his raw and inflamed flesh, Hal gasped involuntarily, his face twisting in pain. Tasha felt extremely concerned for the big man. Never before had she heard him cry out in pain.

  Garn returned with his pot, the snow already boiling away, and set it down on the other side of Hal. With his precise, delicate fingers, he quickly began to break up the small herbs and roots. Once done with that, he deposited them into the pot and began to stir the mixture with a small glass rod that he withdrew from yet another one of his pouches.

  Renora was busily wiping away the remnants of the congealed mess. The wound was now free of scabbing and was raw, almost pulsating. Tasha was horrified to see how red and infected it looked. What must have started out as a clean and simple cut had been turned into a ragged and torn gash. Tasha wondered how Hal had even been able to walk on the leg without crying out.

  "Find some clean bandages, Renora," Garn said anxiously. The water had turned a healthy-looking green and smelled very medicinal. The girl quickly complied, retrieving several clean rags from Garn's backpack. The mage selected three and soaked them all in the mixture. He let them steep for several moments before taking them out one at a time and laying them atop the wound. Hal winced again, from what was hard to tell, though.

  Garn stepped away and ran a sleeve across his brow. Tasha detached herself from Ceorn and moved over to the mage. "Will he be all right?" Renora had begun to wrap the remainder of the bandages around Hal's thickly muscled leg.

  Garn looked at her skeptically. "It's hard to say," he began warily. Seeing Tasha's horrified expression, he quickly amended himself. "Oh, he'll live. That's not the concern. I just don't know when he'll be walking again. Don't forget, he came damn close to drowning just about a week ago. He'd just barely recovered from that before he began to drive himself like a maniac. Pulling long walking shifts, extended night watches never mind throwing himself into a horrible battle like some sort of demon seeking vengeance." Garn shook his head worriedly, a long strand of hair falling in front of his eyes. "He needs rest, Tasha. And if we want him to live, we need to give it to him."

  Tasha sighed. You aren't the only one, Hal, she thought to herself, feeling the weariness seep into her bones yet again. Her head continued to throb painfully and she wanted to do nothing more than sleep. Yet, she smiled weakly at Garn and laid a hand on his shoulder. "See that he gets it, Garn. The minute he wakes up, let me know."

  Garn gave her an overly haughty look for a second. "Yes, my liege," he said stuffily. Then he chuckled and winked at her playfully. "Don't worry about it. Go take a load off yourself; you look like you need it. And again, don't worr
y, Hal's in good hands here."

  Tasha shook her head to clear it and turned to the kelt. "Is there any trouble ahead of us?" she asked.

  Ceorn shook his weary head, his spiky blonde hair flopping about slightly. "Nary a soul for th' next league or so, I wager."

  Tasha nodded. "That'll have to do. Go set up camp and get some rest. You've had a long day as well."

  The kelt sighed, very relieved. "Aye, lass. I'll do so at once." With a nod of his head to the mage, Ceorn strode out of the wagon, scratching at the back of his head as he went.

  Tasha ran both hands through her hair and shook vigorously, trying to relieve the irritation and the incessant itching. No doubt about it, she mused thoughtfully. I need a bath.

  On her way out of the wagon, she turned back to say something to Garn but lost track of her thoughts after catching a good look at Renora.

  She had finished bandaging Hal's leg and was in the process of removing his weapons belt. She succeeded after a brief struggle and slid the belt over to the side. Then she came back and shifted the big man's cloak so that it covered his body and kept him warm.

  Tasha wasn't sure what it was that had caught her eye until she saw Renora push Hal's scraggly brown hair away from his ashen face. His chest rose and fell shallowly and he seemed almost to snore. Renora's fingers trailed across Hal's face until they rested on his cheek. They remained there for a moment. A long minute later, Tasha heard Renora sniffle. It was the first time Tasha had heard Renora do any such thing. She hadn't cried even after being violated. Renora turned her face aside and saw Tasha standing there and stared in surprise. Tasha forced a smile onto her face and nodded reassuringly to the girl. Renora smiled, strangely appearing relieved, and turned back to Hal.

  Bizarrely affected, Tasha finally began to turn away and noticed Garnthalisbain regarding her thoughtfully. She didn't like the way Garn seemed to be mentally adding to some little internal notebook that only he could see. When the mage looked away, Tasha felt as if Garn was the one who had the ability to read minds and not her.

  "Good hands, indeed," Tasha muttered darkly as she stepped out into the setting sunlight and chill humid air.

  Ceorn was off in the brush slightly, clearing a small space to set up camp. Steam rose in small wafts from him, an obvious show of just how exhausted he was. The twins and Shiann were all sitting on a log, facing Ambori. The bard had his lute out and was busily singing away, trying to keep up their spirits.

  The song that he sang was a humorous tale. It told of a group of young men who had gone off together to see the world and make their fortune. Along the way they stumbled badly over many obstacles, the most notable of them being any time that some members of the opposite sex became involved in their exploits. Soon both of the twins were listening raptly to Ambori's tale. Even Shiann had begun to smile slightly.

  The tent was fully erected by the end of Ambori's tale and Tasha quickly set the children up for bed. They complained that they weren't sleepy as they yawned hugely. Within a half hour, both Nichos and Nicalla were fast asleep.

  Ambori, Ceorn and Shiann were sitting around a small fire as Tasha returned. They were just finishing a brief meal of the rapidly dwindling supply of dry rations. Tasha sat down beside the colorful bard. He smiled brightly at her and handed her a piece of trail jerky. She accepted it wanly and took a few tentative bites before finally stowing it away in a side pouch for another time. Her stomach was still queasy from the sight of Hal's blood.

  Abruptly Ceorn yawned. He arched back and reached out to both sides. All could see the way that his muscles tensed and quivered beneath the limited cover of his jerkin. He closed his mouth sheepishly and looked at Tasha, shamefaced. " 'Scuse me, m'lady. I seem to be a bit on th' weary side of' things today."

  Tasha grinned weakly. "Why don't you get some rest, Ceorn? Ambori and I can take the first watch."

  The kelt's face showed obvious relief. "I thank ye' grandly, m'lady. Tonight I ain't hardly in a position to argue with you." Laboriously, he rose to his feet and stretched yet again. With one last polite nod to all present, Ceorn slumped off to the tent.

  Shiann sat at the campfire for perhaps another minute. Then she hastily finished her ration and climbed to her feet. She nodded briskly to Tasha and pointedly avoided Ambori's gaze before all but fleeing to the protection of the wagon.

  Tasha eyed the colorful bard curiously. "What was that all about?"

  Ambori leaned back against the trunk of a tree and slid to the snow. His white breath streamed out into the rapidly darkening night. He winced at the salty beef in his mouth and made a face every time he chewed. Finally, after swallowing, he spoke up. "Beats me, Tasha." He reached into a side pouch and withdrew a very colorful kerchief, with which he proceeded to daintily wipe at his mouth.

  Tasha watched him with a look of incredulity. "What in the world are you doing? It isn't like we've just been invited to some gala event."

  The bard quirked a lopsided grin at her as he stowed the cloth away with a flourish. "My mother always told me never to have two sets of manners, and I've always listened to what my mother said to me. Especially when she told me to follow in my father's footsteps." Ambori pointedly hefted up his lute then, casually strumming a few experimental notes.

  Tasha nodded understandingly. "Your father was a bard?"

  Ambori gave her an odd look. "No, a blacksmith." He strummed a few more notes very briskly before suddenly pausing. "I just followed his footsteps to the local tavern every night. There were plenty of minstrels there."

  Tasha winced visibly. "That was a terrible joke."

  The bard took up his feathered hat and mimed a florid bow. "Thank you, milady. Those just happen to be my stock and trade." Then he grinned boyishly and began to play again.

  Her hunger overcame her queasiness, Tasha managed to munch down the remainder of her daily ration. It tasted like old boot leather, but it helped to fill the void somewhat.

  Folding her legs beneath her, Tasha leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. "So tell me Ambori," she began. "What's your story? You know all about us."

  The bard tilted his head back and looked up at the stars as they made their initial appearance for the evening. He continued to strum his lute flowingly, casually. Feeling the music rather than merely listening to it. In that moment, Tasha sensed that Ambori could have broken into any song that he knew, could have made one up on the spot if he'd needed to. Such was the inner harmony that he had with his music.

  Ambori lowered his gaze until he was eye to eye with Tasha. "Are you asking me to tell you a story, lady?"

  Tasha smiled. "Why not? That's the sort of thing you get paid to do, isn't it?"

  The bard tilted his head back and forth a few times, trying to reason that one out. "Well, yeah. I suppose so. But I never really think about it that way." He took a few deep breaths and continued to play. At last, his music slowed in tempo and decreased in pitch, effectively fading into the background.

  "Nice touch," Tasha complimented.

  "I try." Then he began:

  "In truth, I'm not certain how much there is for me to tell you, Tasha. I was born a smith's son on the island of Torvik. My father was a reasonably wealthy man who worked hard and loved what he did. Why, I'll never know. The thought of being over a forge all day long, sweating like a horse, lifting red hot metallic objects that weigh about half a ton just didn't appeal to me. Not as much as other things in this life.

  "Fortunately, my older brother was right into helping out Father. I say fortunately because that relieved me of the worry of having to take over the family business one day. I would have run it into the ground in a half a year. I just can't use a hammer and tongs. I've tried of course, my father made me try. But all I could make were sparks and scars." Ambori showed Tasha the long pinkish scar on the back of his hand then. She winced in sympathy. The bard shrugged. "My own fault, really. I was waving around a red hot piece of metal, trying to cool it off that way because I couldn't find t
he water barrel. That was when I slipped and burned myself. No big deal.

  "After that, I was determined not to do anything quite so foolish again. However I'm only human after all, we're foolish by nature and since then I have done many other foolish things. But I wanted some sort of reassurance that I wasn't going to be dangerously foolish very often." Ambori quirked a wry grin. "That's why I started hanging around minstrels.

  "They were good people, taught me everything I know. From this," he strummed on his lute with a flourish to indicate what he was referring to. "To this," He put his lute aside for a moment and snapped his arm forward. A silvery dagger seemed to appear in his hand from thin air. He grinned and slipped it back up his sleeve. "To of course, this." At that point, Ambori leaned forward and planted both hands in the snow. Apparently having found a grip that suited his needs, Ambori's face became a mask of concentration. As Tasha watched in astonishment, Ambori's whole body rolled over until the only thing supporting him were his arms. Slowly, almost agonizingly, he straightened out his body until his toes were pointing straight up into the sky, towards the double moons.

  Tasha rose to her feet and walked over to him in surprise. She strolled all the way around him with her mouth wide open, at a loss for words. "That," she finally began. "That's very good."

  Ambori frowned up at her. "What? I can't hear you. Hang on a second." The bard shifted slightly and brought one of his hands to his ear, cupping it. His body swayed a bit on its precarious balance but he didn't fall. "Could you repeat that?" He asked, completely serious.

  Tasha stepped back several paces, now beyond words. Ambori sighed. "All right, hang on." He placed both hands on the ground again and took a moment to set himself. Then he coiled his athletic frame, his arms bending and his legs folding over. With one sudden lurch his whole form snapped forward, kicking him into a vertical position and landing him on his feet. At that point he wiped his hands dry on the front of his shirt and walked over to Tasha. "You were saying something?"

  Tasha was thunderstruck.

  Ambori grinned then, very amused as Tasha stared at him in surprise and admiration. “I accept payment in coppers and kisses.”

  Tasha blinked at his tone, very playful but decidedly leering. She took a step away and brusquely controlled her expression. "If there's one thing that I despise," she said, her tone going cold. "It's someone who feels that they need to show off in order to make an impression."

 

  Ambori's grin got wider. In one sudden movement he leapt forward and planted himself uncomfortably close to Tasha. He gazed the very short distance down at her, his eyes glinting playfully. "Yeah, I was showing off," he said. "I admit it. I've just got one question."

  Despite herself, Tasha became momentarily lost in Ambori's clear eyed gaze. She found herself unable to think clearly for some reason. Finally she cleared her throat and was able to speak. "And that would be?"

  Ambori sidled in closer to her. Tasha mentally realized that she was almost as tall as he was. She also noticed, not for the first time, just how smooth his features were. Not rigid or rough seeming, but soft. Smooth. Boyish.

  The bard leaned his face in close to hers. "Did it work?" His voice whispered the words to her, his warm breath brushing against her face. Tasha was unable to answer, her voice stuck somewhere deep in her throat, temporarily lost. She trembled slightly, not fearfully but concerned. Never before in her entire life had any man ever dared to actually attempt this sort of thing with her. At least not in this manner! Most seemed afraid, the rest never bothered, knowing her rank in comparison to theirs.

  When Ambori kissed her she had no idea that it was coming. One minute they were standing there, the next their lips were touching. Tasha could feel Ambori sliding his arms about body and pulling her close. She couldn't bring herself to stop him, she couldn't think of why she'd want to.

  Finally, after several seconds, Ambori pulled back and gazed down at her gently. He grinned playfully. "So, am I to take that as a 'yes'?"

  Tasha stared him right in the eyes, her thoughts in a jumble and her emotions running away with her. "Ambori, you have first watch," she said at long last, resorting to habit instead of actual thought. Feeling that she should say something more, Tasha belatedly added a: "Good night." Then she pushed her way gently out of his circled arms and walked slowly towards the tent.

  Behind her, Tasha could faintly hear Ambori softly talking to himself. What he was saying exactly was quite beyond her, but she didn't care. Not right then.

  She entered the tent to the sound of snoring. Ceorn was over in his bedroll sleeping peacefully though somewhat obnoxiously. Nicalla was huddled up in the fetal position on top of Tasha's bedroll. Her brother Nichos had managed to wrap himself right up into Hal's bedroll and was sleeping soundly.

  Seeing the little boy wrapped so frightfully in Hal's bedroll seemed, at the same time, absolutely right and yet so absolutely wrong. She couldn't explain the thought, but knew it to be true all the same.

  That night as she dreamed, it was Ambori who lay in the wagon under Garnthalisbain's careful eye while Hal hung around outside showing off for her. A bizarre dream to be sure.