about the situation. It probably explained why Isabelle had not spoken to him once since leaving the bandits behind, and why instead of showing sympathy for his injuries, she was giving him the same cold treatment Thomas had given the knight.
“You sent me back to the woman and her companion. If I hadn’tused my wits, I might well have been killed. It was no thanks to you that I managed to escape.”
“Had you been killed by only a pair of bandits, then you weren’t worth much in the first place,” the knight answered. “I wanted to see if you could get out of a difficult situation without my help.” He laughed at the sour look that Thomas gave him. “Besides, lad. They weren’t going to kill you. Not with the three of us still at loose to report a murder.”
“Perhaps if you had immediately told me you suspected a trap, my head and leg and shoulder wouldn’t be so sore. Instead of sending me back to the woman, you could have urged me forward, and I would have helped you with the ropes.”
“Did you learn a lesson?”
Thomas grunted in agreement.
“And it was, I suppose,” the knight said, “not to trust the stories of people you meet on the road.”
“More than that,” Thomas said. He spoke with grudging admiration. “I’ve learned I can trust your motives and your capabilities.”
The knight slapped him on the back. “Feels good, doesn’t it, to release that anger and make peace?”
“Not good enough to admit it to you,” Thomas said.
The knight laughed. “As unlikeable as you are, there are moments I can see it’s worthwhile to be your friend.” Then he became more serious. “Tell me about the powder.”
“That sounds like an order,” Thomas said.
“Forgive me. Will you be kind enough to satisfy my curiosity? I’ve never seen such an effect.”
“And you’ll likely never see it again. I had to use the last of it on them.”
That had been another reason for Thomas’s anger. He had no doubt that sometime in the future he’d have a real need for the powder. But now it was gone.
Their rope had been too valuable to use to tie the bandits; besides, to what purpose? After discovering the woman had lied about a robbery, Thomas had lost all need to bring the bandits to justice. Spending a day or two trying to herd the bandits to a local sheriff for the sake of revenge wasn’t worth the risk of being caught themselves as refugees from the gallows.
So, bandit by bandit, Thomas had taken a pinch of powder and blown it in their faces as they were helpless on the ground, fearing the sword of William. The results had been as predictable as they were devastating, and the four of them had left the bandits retching and screaming in agony along the road, knowing it would be a good hour before they recovered.
“The last of it?” the knight asked. “Certainly it’s an herbal powder that we can gather from a local plant.”
Thomas grunted again.
“Ah, so that’s not possible,” the knight said. “Where did you get it then?”
“Someday, perhaps,” Thomas said, “I can reveal the answer to you, but for now, I’ll simply ask you to trust me.” He paused. “In the same way, William, that I’ve learned to trust you.”
T he wind, as it always did on the moors, blew strong. Above them, blue sky was patched with high clouds. William led the way along a narrow path cutting through the low clumps of heather. They traveled across the tops of the moors. The valleys below offered too much cover for bandits waiting in ambush.
Behind the knight, Thomas and Tiny John—as they now called the always-grinning pickpocket—followed closely. Isabelle, farther back, meandered her way in pursuit, stopping often to pluck a yellow flower from the gorse or to stare at the sky.
“Take them with you. It will guarantee you a safe journey to Magnus.” Thomas remembered the old man’s whisper each time he looked back at the girl. Was there something more about her than met the eye?
But,
“You sent me back to the woman and her companion. If I hadn’tused my wits, I might well have been killed. It was no thanks to you that I managed to escape.”
“Had you been killed by only a pair of bandits, then you weren’t worth much in the first place,” the knight answered. “I wanted to see if you could get out of a difficult situation without my help.” He laughed at the sour look that Thomas gave him. “Besides, lad. They weren’t going to kill you. Not with the three of us still at loose to report a murder.”
“Perhaps if you had immediately told me you suspected a trap, my head and leg and shoulder wouldn’t be so sore. Instead of sending me back to the woman, you could have urged me forward, and I would have helped you with the ropes.”
“Did you learn a lesson?”
Thomas grunted in agreement.
“And it was, I suppose,” the knight said, “not to trust the stories of people you meet on the road.”
“More than that,” Thomas said. He spoke with grudging admiration. “I’ve learned I can trust your motives and your capabilities.”
The knight slapped him on the back. “Feels good, doesn’t it, to release that anger and make peace?”
“Not good enough to admit it to you,” Thomas said.
The knight laughed. “As unlikeable as you are, there are moments I can see it’s worthwhile to be your friend.” Then he became more serious. “Tell me about the powder.”
“That sounds like an order,” Thomas said.
“Forgive me. Will you be kind enough to satisfy my curiosity? I’ve never seen such an effect.”
“And you’ll likely never see it again. I had to use the last of it on them.”
That had been another reason for Thomas’s anger. He had no doubt that sometime in the future he’d have a real need for the powder. But now it was gone.
Their rope had been too valuable to use to tie the bandits; besides, to what purpose? After discovering the woman had lied about a robbery, Thomas had lost all need to bring the bandits to justice. Spending a day or two trying to herd the bandits to a local sheriff for the sake of revenge wasn’t worth the risk of being caught themselves as refugees from the gallows.
So, bandit by bandit, Thomas had taken a pinch of powder and blown it in their faces as they were helpless on the ground, fearing the sword of William. The results had been as predictable as they were devastating, and the four of them had left the bandits retching and screaming in agony along the road, knowing it would be a good hour before they recovered.
“The last of it?” the knight asked. “Certainly it’s an herbal powder that we can gather from a local plant.”
Thomas grunted again.
“Ah, so that’s not possible,” the knight said. “Where did you get it then?”
“Someday, perhaps,” Thomas said, “I can reveal the answer to you, but for now, I’ll simply ask you to trust me.” He paused. “In the same way, William, that I’ve learned to trust you.”
T he wind, as it always did on the moors, blew strong. Above them, blue sky was patched with high clouds. William led the way along a narrow path cutting through the low clumps of heather. They traveled across the tops of the moors. The valleys below offered too much cover for bandits waiting in ambush.
Behind the knight, Thomas and Tiny John—as they now called the always-grinning pickpocket—followed closely. Isabelle, farther back, meandered her way in pursuit, stopping often to pluck a yellow flower from the gorse or to stare at the sky.
“Take them with you. It will guarantee you a safe journey to Magnus.” Thomas remembered the old man’s whisper each time he looked back at the girl. Was there something more about her than met the eye?
But,
Similar Books
