of old cloth with dark wool eyes. Saraid hugged it tight.
“Give me the knife, Eile,” he said. “You don’t need it now. I’m your father’s friend. I will protect you.”
She reached up a hand to scrub the tears angrily from her face. With the other hand she held out the knife and he took it. “What happened, Eile?” he asked.“What—” He fell abruptly silent. She had untied her cloak and dropped it to the floor. Underneath, from neck to knees, the frontof her gown was stained dark with what he very much hoped was not blood.
“We need to get away,” she whispered, casting a glance at the child. “We need to get as far as we can before they find us.”
“You’re hurt! What is this? What’s happened?”
“I’m fine.” The chinwent up; the eyes dared him to be sorry for her. Behind her the dog, which had been standing just inside the doorway with its tail down, now slunk over to the fire and, when no reprimand came its way, settled itself on the earthen floor beside the child. “Later,” Eile added, conveying with her eyes that she would not give any further explanations in Saraid’s hearing. “She’s hungry. Haven’t you gotany food at all?” She had the tears under control now, by sheer force of will.
Faolan couldn’t take his eyes off that threadbare gown. It was blood; he knew it. Not hers, he should have realized; whoever had colored that homespun first crimson, then brown, must surely be dead. “Nothing at all,” he said absently, wondering if he would wake up soon from this improbable dream. “I gave most of itaway and had the rest for supper. I wasn’t expecting guests.”
Eile squatted beside Saraid, reaching into a little bag slung from her belt. Out came a tiny scrap of crumbling bread and the merest morsel of cheese, the last hoarded remnant of the meal he had provided. What had been intended to give one young woman a single breakfast had been eked out over more than two full days, and he suspectedEile had eaten little of it herself. Saraid’s shadowy eyes lit up; she clutched the doll in one hand, the food in the other.
“Eat it slowly, Squirrel,” Eile told her. “Don’t gobble.”
“What about you?” Faolan asked, busy rummaging through his own pack.
“I’m not hungry.”
“How long can you keep that up, giving her your own share and expecting to live on nothing? You’re skin and bone.”
“Whatare you, my father? I’m fine. I said so. Why did you stop us? We need to keep moving.”
“You know,” Faolan said, finding what he sought, “Deord was a man of considerable intelligence. A risk-taker, certainly, but practical. It surprises me to find his daughter acting with reckless folly. It astonishes me that you brought the child with you. Maybe you don’t realize how close the two of you wereto a watery grave.”
“We’d have got over all right.”
“Nonsense. You were frozen with terror, and don’t try to tell me otherwise. A grown man wouldn’t consider going across that thing by night. Here.” He tossed her the garments he had found, his own change of clothing. It seemed to be becoming a habit, giving his shirts and trousers away to women in distress. An image of Ana came to him, Ana inthe outfit he had intended to wear as the king’s emissary to Alpin of the Caitt. The male attire had somehow rendered his princess more of a woman than ever.
“What’s this?” asked Eile in tones of deep suspicion.
“Wherever you’re going, and I hope you’ll do me the courtesy of telling me that in due course, you can’t wear that gown any longer. Take these, put them on, roll up the trousers or dowhatever you need to do to make them fit. And I’d suggest we consign what you’re wearing to the fire.”
Eile held up the fine linen shirt, the trousers of best quality wool. “These are too good,” she said flatly. “I can’t wear these.” The garments shook in her hands. “And if we burn mine, I can’t give yours back.”
“Eile,” said
“Give me the knife, Eile,” he said. “You don’t need it now. I’m your father’s friend. I will protect you.”
She reached up a hand to scrub the tears angrily from her face. With the other hand she held out the knife and he took it. “What happened, Eile?” he asked.“What—” He fell abruptly silent. She had untied her cloak and dropped it to the floor. Underneath, from neck to knees, the frontof her gown was stained dark with what he very much hoped was not blood.
“We need to get away,” she whispered, casting a glance at the child. “We need to get as far as we can before they find us.”
“You’re hurt! What is this? What’s happened?”
“I’m fine.” The chinwent up; the eyes dared him to be sorry for her. Behind her the dog, which had been standing just inside the doorway with its tail down, now slunk over to the fire and, when no reprimand came its way, settled itself on the earthen floor beside the child. “Later,” Eile added, conveying with her eyes that she would not give any further explanations in Saraid’s hearing. “She’s hungry. Haven’t you gotany food at all?” She had the tears under control now, by sheer force of will.
Faolan couldn’t take his eyes off that threadbare gown. It was blood; he knew it. Not hers, he should have realized; whoever had colored that homespun first crimson, then brown, must surely be dead. “Nothing at all,” he said absently, wondering if he would wake up soon from this improbable dream. “I gave most of itaway and had the rest for supper. I wasn’t expecting guests.”
Eile squatted beside Saraid, reaching into a little bag slung from her belt. Out came a tiny scrap of crumbling bread and the merest morsel of cheese, the last hoarded remnant of the meal he had provided. What had been intended to give one young woman a single breakfast had been eked out over more than two full days, and he suspectedEile had eaten little of it herself. Saraid’s shadowy eyes lit up; she clutched the doll in one hand, the food in the other.
“Eat it slowly, Squirrel,” Eile told her. “Don’t gobble.”
“What about you?” Faolan asked, busy rummaging through his own pack.
“I’m not hungry.”
“How long can you keep that up, giving her your own share and expecting to live on nothing? You’re skin and bone.”
“Whatare you, my father? I’m fine. I said so. Why did you stop us? We need to keep moving.”
“You know,” Faolan said, finding what he sought, “Deord was a man of considerable intelligence. A risk-taker, certainly, but practical. It surprises me to find his daughter acting with reckless folly. It astonishes me that you brought the child with you. Maybe you don’t realize how close the two of you wereto a watery grave.”
“We’d have got over all right.”
“Nonsense. You were frozen with terror, and don’t try to tell me otherwise. A grown man wouldn’t consider going across that thing by night. Here.” He tossed her the garments he had found, his own change of clothing. It seemed to be becoming a habit, giving his shirts and trousers away to women in distress. An image of Ana came to him, Ana inthe outfit he had intended to wear as the king’s emissary to Alpin of the Caitt. The male attire had somehow rendered his princess more of a woman than ever.
“What’s this?” asked Eile in tones of deep suspicion.
“Wherever you’re going, and I hope you’ll do me the courtesy of telling me that in due course, you can’t wear that gown any longer. Take these, put them on, roll up the trousers or dowhatever you need to do to make them fit. And I’d suggest we consign what you’re wearing to the fire.”
Eile held up the fine linen shirt, the trousers of best quality wool. “These are too good,” she said flatly. “I can’t wear these.” The garments shook in her hands. “And if we burn mine, I can’t give yours back.”
“Eile,” said
Similar Books
