The Prodigal Troll (13 page)

"We need shelter," Xaragitte snapped. Her eyes had dark circles around them, and looked haunted. "You must find us shelter before nightfall."

Yvon met her gaze and nodded.

"You must."

"I will," he said, sheathing his sword.

They heard the goat bleating as they returned to the plum grove. Claye stopped crying and twisted his head around curiously at the noise. Yvon didn't mention the vultures. If there was carrion, that likely meant lions or wolves. He hoped that it was wolves.

After gathering their few belongings, they set off again. Meadows that had once been cleared for farming were now overgrown with small trees, still leafless. They startled a small herd of deer in one of the abandoned fields they passed through, and Yvon wished for a bow. Food would be scarce to come by until after the plants bloomed. At least they had the goat. One way or another, that would help them get by.

He expected to find numerous houses, but they had vanished like the families who'd built them. The two of them simply trudged on, forcing one foot past the other league after league, long into the afternoon without a break, until Xaragitte spotted a dark square on the lip of a small hill ahead of them. She raised her hand, and Yvon said, "Maybe."

He walked faster, but as they came close he saw it was only a pile of charred, decaying timber.

Xaragitte stared at it, frowning. Thinking perhaps of the more recent fire at the castle. "It has walls, at least," she suggested. "Perhaps we should stay here tonight."

"No," Yvon said. He had a bad feeling about the place. Those broken walls were no protection from determined man or beast. "We'll head that way, checking the hollows back in the hills, like Banya suggested. There's bound to be something better close by."

Then he led them on a weaving trail, checking every cleft in the hills for some sign of former habitation. But though they passed more orchards, bits of fence, and, once, a plowframe shorn of its blade and perched upon a rock, he found no place that could shelter them. Worse, they'd had little to eat since dinner in the soldiers' camp the night before, and though they drank from clear streams that flowed out of the mountains, the cold water in Yvon's stomach only fed his hunger. Xaragitte did not complain, but she began to lag, shuffling her feet blindly forward. They had come at least ten leagues since Banya's house. Yvon doubted she had ever walked as far in a week as she had the past two days.

Long shadows stretched from the trees like fingers reaching out to grab them. Yvon walked beside Xaragitte, to catch her if she stumbled, wondering at first how much farther she could push herself, then marveling again at how pretty she seemed to him, even footsore and exhausted.

She noticed him staring at her. "Sir?"

He quickly shifted his eyes away. "Yes?"

"Would you mind carrying Claye for a bit?"

His throat tightened. "Not at all."

"I can carry the bag instead."

"It's a feather on my back."

The sling was awkward, and Claye squirmed and squealed, so that Yvon had a hard time arranging everything to his comfort. The knot in the sling dug into his collarbone every time Claye straightened his legs, so, after a few times of this, Yvon reached in to tickle Claye's ribs. Claye giggled and curled up, making Xaragitte smile, so Yvon tickled him for that reason too. Claye grabbed a fistful of Yvon's beard and tugged.

"Hey," Yvon said, prying the baby's fingers loose and smoothing his beard across his chin.

Xaragitte laughed at him. Then she sang:

Yvon glanced at her sideways to see if she meant anything with that innocent old rhyme. But he couldn't tell. The sun squatted low in the western sky and Xaragitte lifted her eyes to it, her smile fading along with the light. "I don't think I can go on much farther."

A wind out of the southwest rustled the treetops. The raggedtoothed edge of a dark cloud chased after it. Rain was coming. Yvon pointed to a cleft between two hills ahead of them, a darker shadow in the gloam. "If we don't find someplace there, I'll build a bower to shelter us for the night."

"I know you'll do your best."

He could go one more night without sleep to sit guard. As they climbed over the last rolling hill, he steeled himself to the work of cutting branches. By Verlogh's justice, he-

"Bwnte's harvest." Xaragitte's hands covered her mouth.

They were both thinking of gods, and by the mercy of two gods, it was a house. Surrounded by trees, set back in the deep shadow at the top of a long slope. They stumbled toward it, Yvon slowly, encumbered by the baby on his chest and the goat, who dug in its heels and refused to go any farther. As Xaragitte surged ahead, he shouted.

"Careful-something may be inside!"

She tripped to a stop. "Oh. I hadn't thought of that."

"Here, you take the boy." He handed over Claye and tethered the goat to a tree-it promptly knelt down, its tongue hanging out its mouth. Then he drew his knife. "I'll have a look around."

The house appeared to have been abandoned but never attacked. It had been a prosperous little dwelling. The door had iron hinges, and rust flaked off, metal squeaking, as he pushed it open. Two dark shapes flew at his head, and he ducked out of the way as they shot off into the trees.

"What's that?" Xaragitte called, panic in her voice.

"Doves," he answered, peering inside. "It appears that's all that's in here. But let me finish searching."

There was just the one large room, with a half loft for sleeping over the rafters. One very rickety table was propped up against a wall in the corner, but there was no other furniture. Thistles sprouted from the piles of bird droppings on the floor, and the ashes in the fireplace had turned to dirt. He looked up and saw dark blue sky through the roof, but when he leaned his shoulders against the walls, they didn't budge. He wrinkled his nose. There was an odd smell, sharp, but he couldn't place it. He went to call Xaragitte and saw her silhouette blocking the doorway.

"Are we going to stay?" she asked.

"There's only a roof over the one corner here, but the walls are sound. It'll do. I'll start fixing the roof tomor-"

"Come back out. Let's do this properly."

He ducked his head to her as she stepped aside. Once outside, he turned to face her. "Lady, I give you this abode, a place to put down roots, a tree to shelter and to comfort you."

She stood at the crooked threshold, right arm across her waist, under Claye, and extended her left hand inside. "Sir," she said. "Welcome to my home. Though it is your nature to roam, know that you are welcome at this hearth and table. May chance often bring you here."

He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he ducked his head a second time. "M'lady."

The wind rushed and shook the trees above them.

As she entered first with Claye, Yvon grabbed loose branches from the ground and tossed them in a pile by the door. They could use them for firewood later. When he found a stout branch the right size, he followed her inside and used it to block the door. Xaragitte had already unpacked their blankets and sat nursing the child. She'd chosen the spot where the intact roof still sheltered her, leaving Yvon partly under the hole if he didn't mean to crowd her. He sniffed the air again. It smelled like coming rain, and he couldn't find the other scent at all.

In the total darkness, she said quietly, "Do you think we'll ever go back?"

"Yes," he answered, spreading his blanket. He removed his sword and knife, placing them beside him; then he pulled off his boots. "Certainly we will."

He lay down and closed his eyes at once.

Xaragitte whispered, "Whatever will we go back to?"

aaa!"

When Yvon first snapped awake, he thought that the sound came from Claye. But when he rolled over, he saw Xaragitte and the baby curled up under their blanket. Claye chuckled, then emitted a laugh, although his eyes were closed. Yvon smiled. What a happy baby he was who giggled when he dreamed.

Yvon rolled over and pressed his head into the crook of his arm. He was poised on the precipice of sleep-

"Maaa! "

The goat. He'd left the goat outside. He listened for it again, but heard nothing for a while. He hadn't believed Banya when the wizard said the creature kept him awake all night, thought that was only an excuse to make them take it. Maybe it'd be fine until morning. He was nearly asleep-

"Maaa! "

He couldn't even open his eyes. The leagues he had walked the past two days chased after him like a pack of wolves. Exhaustion was a predator-he'd seen it kill men before. The only weapon to fight it with was rest, and he needed rest. The goat fell silent. Yvon'd just rest a few more minutes, then-

"Maaa "

He rolled over, his chin slick with drool.

"Maaa! Maaa!"

"Yvon?"

"Yes," he mumbled.

"Yvon, is everything aright?" He heard concern in Xaragitte's voice. "I've been talking to you, but you won't answer."

"Too tired." His head felt like a boulder his shoulders were incapable of stirring.

"The goat," she whispered. "Do you think it'll quiet down if I bring it in here with us? It's keeping me awake."

He pushed up on his elbows. "I'll fetch it."

"No, you stay right there," she said, standing up. "You've done enough the past two days."