stopped in concern when he saw him.
“Is the news bad?"
“Nay, my lord. The boy was still the same when I left him. I have been to see my horse....” For a moment Alan could not go on. “Pardon, my lord,” he said finally. “For three days and nights I have not slept, and I begin to act foolishly. The horse is nearly dead from galloping, and it grieves me."
“How far have you ridden?” asked Lord Roran gently.
Alan told him, “Four days ago we were at the place where the Forest meets the sea."
Lord Roran whistled. “He must be no ordinary horse."
“Nay, my lord,” answered Alan, then had to cover his face with his hands. Hal looked out of Corin's doorway, came and put his arms around him.
“Is Alfie dead?"
Alan shook his head. “Nay,” he managed to say, “but likely to be.” He stood breathing deeply, trying to calm himself.
“He will not die,” said Hal with conviction. “He is far too stubborn. If only I could say the same for the lad."
“How is the boy?” asked Lord Roran.
“The same. There is nothing to do now but wait."
“Then come with me,” said Lord Roran firmly. “You both need rest and nourishment. Your dinner awaits you."
“With your leave,” Hal said, “I shall go to the stables first"
His Lordship nodded, and he and Alan went on. “I do not yet know your name,” he said.
Alan told him.
“And your brother?"
“His name is Hal.” Alan paused. “You called him my brother, and indeed in a manner of speaking he is, but not by birth."
“By the tides, I felt sure he was your brother. And Corin, is he no relationship to either of you?"
“None. We found him just four days ago."
“You found him? How is that?"
They came to a warm room with two beds, where a variety of food was set out on a small table. As they sat, Alan told briefly of Corin's rescue.
“The filth!” Lord Roran muttered as Alan told of the kingsmen. “The black-cloaked, dirty-handed, mother-hating filth!” He pounded the table with his fist, and his face flushed an angry red. As Alan continued, his expression turned from rage to astonishment.
“The two of you killed six kingsmen?” he exclaimed.
“Even so.” Alan was too tired to think of taking offense.
“But how?"
“We surprised them, and two of them we took off at once.... Then Corin got loose somehow, and got ahold of a sword, and stabbed a villain in the knee even before he was able to get up. Hal whistled for the horses, and they helped us dispatch the rest."
“Remarkable horses,” Lord Roran murmured in bewilderment. Obviously Alan was too wrung out to be bragging or lying. Roran listened in stunned silence to Alan's account of their four-day ride.
“Then Corin's sickness is as much one of the heart as of the body,” he said at last.
“Ay. He thinks his father died on his account."
Hal joined them, and in answer to Alan's worried glance he only shrugged: Alfie was still the same. The lord of Firth dished out the meal. There were excellent soups, wheat bread, jellies and cold meats. In politeness Hal and Alan tasted everything, but they ate little.
“Will you sleep now?” asked Lord Roran when they were finished. “This is your room, but I shall have cots set up for you near Corin if you would prefer."
That was done, but they could not sleep. Restlessly they divided then time between Corin's bedside and the stable, pacing through the long afternoon. Alfie remained on his side in the straw, scarcely moving, cramped with exhaustion. Corin grew weaker and more wasted, his tongue parched and his face burning to the touch. He seemed scarcely to breathe, and a dozen times they feared that he was already dead.
At dusk Lord Roran came in, and with him a lad about Corin's size, but as dark and hawklike as himself. It was Roran's son, Robin. They looked at Corin with pity in their eyes, and Bleys flung wide his hands in a gesture of despair.
“He need not die,” the healer said. “He came to me soon enough, and took the
“Is the news bad?"
“Nay, my lord. The boy was still the same when I left him. I have been to see my horse....” For a moment Alan could not go on. “Pardon, my lord,” he said finally. “For three days and nights I have not slept, and I begin to act foolishly. The horse is nearly dead from galloping, and it grieves me."
“How far have you ridden?” asked Lord Roran gently.
Alan told him, “Four days ago we were at the place where the Forest meets the sea."
Lord Roran whistled. “He must be no ordinary horse."
“Nay, my lord,” answered Alan, then had to cover his face with his hands. Hal looked out of Corin's doorway, came and put his arms around him.
“Is Alfie dead?"
Alan shook his head. “Nay,” he managed to say, “but likely to be.” He stood breathing deeply, trying to calm himself.
“He will not die,” said Hal with conviction. “He is far too stubborn. If only I could say the same for the lad."
“How is the boy?” asked Lord Roran.
“The same. There is nothing to do now but wait."
“Then come with me,” said Lord Roran firmly. “You both need rest and nourishment. Your dinner awaits you."
“With your leave,” Hal said, “I shall go to the stables first"
His Lordship nodded, and he and Alan went on. “I do not yet know your name,” he said.
Alan told him.
“And your brother?"
“His name is Hal.” Alan paused. “You called him my brother, and indeed in a manner of speaking he is, but not by birth."
“By the tides, I felt sure he was your brother. And Corin, is he no relationship to either of you?"
“None. We found him just four days ago."
“You found him? How is that?"
They came to a warm room with two beds, where a variety of food was set out on a small table. As they sat, Alan told briefly of Corin's rescue.
“The filth!” Lord Roran muttered as Alan told of the kingsmen. “The black-cloaked, dirty-handed, mother-hating filth!” He pounded the table with his fist, and his face flushed an angry red. As Alan continued, his expression turned from rage to astonishment.
“The two of you killed six kingsmen?” he exclaimed.
“Even so.” Alan was too tired to think of taking offense.
“But how?"
“We surprised them, and two of them we took off at once.... Then Corin got loose somehow, and got ahold of a sword, and stabbed a villain in the knee even before he was able to get up. Hal whistled for the horses, and they helped us dispatch the rest."
“Remarkable horses,” Lord Roran murmured in bewilderment. Obviously Alan was too wrung out to be bragging or lying. Roran listened in stunned silence to Alan's account of their four-day ride.
“Then Corin's sickness is as much one of the heart as of the body,” he said at last.
“Ay. He thinks his father died on his account."
Hal joined them, and in answer to Alan's worried glance he only shrugged: Alfie was still the same. The lord of Firth dished out the meal. There were excellent soups, wheat bread, jellies and cold meats. In politeness Hal and Alan tasted everything, but they ate little.
“Will you sleep now?” asked Lord Roran when they were finished. “This is your room, but I shall have cots set up for you near Corin if you would prefer."
That was done, but they could not sleep. Restlessly they divided then time between Corin's bedside and the stable, pacing through the long afternoon. Alfie remained on his side in the straw, scarcely moving, cramped with exhaustion. Corin grew weaker and more wasted, his tongue parched and his face burning to the touch. He seemed scarcely to breathe, and a dozen times they feared that he was already dead.
At dusk Lord Roran came in, and with him a lad about Corin's size, but as dark and hawklike as himself. It was Roran's son, Robin. They looked at Corin with pity in their eyes, and Bleys flung wide his hands in a gesture of despair.
“He need not die,” the healer said. “He came to me soon enough, and took the
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