The Hob's Bargain(42)

I almost called out to Wandel, but decided it might attract more than just his attention. Besides, the thought of the minstrel bending a bow that Moresh, a warrior born, could not, was oddly disturbing.

With all of the problems of this summer, the steward had let the grounds go. Usually the park was kept much shorter, but the waist-high grass served as cover for Wandel as he slid forward on his belly, snaking his way to a tree closer to the wall.

Something moved under my tree again. A raider armed with a crossbow scurried to the trunk, his gaze fixed on Wandel, who had chosen this moment to make a target of himself against the wall. The man under me spared no glance for his fallen comrade. He stepped on the stirrup at the end of his crossbow and cocked it with quiet speed.

Koret and Kith had both assured me that my knife was no good for throwing. Not that it would have mattered, because I didn't have any practice throwing knives. I'd have to try something else.

As quietly as I could, I began climbing down to a less lethal (for me) height from which to jump. I climbed down as far as I dared, finding a limb that left me an unobstructed path to the ground. Balancing there, I urged him silently to move forward. I thought for a moment that he was going to try to take his shot from the shelter of the oak, but he stepped away to get a better angle. Trying not to think about the dizzying distance between me and the ground, I dropped.

Even softened by his body, my landing was harder than I'd imagined. My knee caught him in the back of the neck and snapped the bone with an audible crack. After a moment, I rolled off him and dragged myself to my knees.

"Aren?" asked Wandel in a whisper.

I looked up blearily, realizing he must have heard the noise I'd made jumping on the raider and had come back to see what it was.

I must still have been a little stunned from the fall.

because I said, "I brought the hob from the mountain. I've got to get back up in the tree."

"Shh," said the harper, pulling me away from the bodies, his victim and mine. "Are you all right?"

I shook my head, pulling away from him enough to tuck my forehead down on my knees. When I spoke again, it was in a tone as quiet as his. "Sorry. Knocked the sense out of me."

"Anything hurt?"

Feeling better, I lifted my head to meet the harper's gaze. "No. I'll be black and blue by morning, and my left knee is not pleased with me. I'll get back in the tree."

"You said you brought the hob out of the mountain?" he asked cautiously. "Like the thing that attacked you?"

I grinned at him then. "That was a hillgrim. Last I saw the hob, he'd sent a group of raiders out after a white stag. He's wearing a brown cloak covered in feathers and beads. Don't shoot him."

Wandel grunted. "A feather cloak sounds pretty distinctive. Any fighting man worth his salt would remove it before his enemies began using it for target practice. If he's done that, how can I tell him from the others?"

"If he's taken off the cloak"  -  I scooted until my back was against the tree and slid up to get to my feet, a little rough on my back but it worked - "you'll know him when you see him."

By the time I regained my perch, my knee had begun to hurt. I found a more comfortable position and scanned the countryside. I couldn't see Wandel or the hob, but the number of raiders had dwindled significantly. I couldn't see any organized groups at all, just a few raiders wandering randomly here and there. I closed my eyes just for a moment to rest them.

"Lass, wake up. We've more work to be done." I looked at the hob stupidly for a moment, then shifted incautiously and almost tumbled out of the tree.

Caefawn steadied me, cinnamon eyes twinkling in his gray face. "Now, no sense falling out of the tree twice. This time there mayn't be a nice fat one to break your fall."

"Thanks," I said, taking a firmer grip on the branches, not questioning how he knew about my little adventure. Kith would have known as much just by glancing at the ground under the tree. If he could do it, there was no reason why the hob could not. "If you'll start down, I'll follow."

It was hard climbing down with my knee stiff and sore, but I managed it with the help of Caefawn's bracing hand. When we reached the ground, the hob bent and put his hand on my poor, sore knee and squeezed.

"Ouch," I said, jumping back. "That hurts."

"Let me look at it - there may be something I can do to help."

When he approached me again, I let him look. This time he was more careful when he put his hand on it. It still hurt.

"Well?" I asked.

He shook his head. "If I'd seen it when it first happened, I could have fixed it up tight. There's nothing wrong that a day's rest won't cure. I can do nothing about the swelling - you're not going to be able to walk far on that, at least not very quickly." He pursed his lips and whistled a little melody.

Since he was obviously waiting for something, I waited quietly, too - trying not to look at the dead men who lay nearby.

I didn't think it was obvious what I was doing, but after a moment the hob said, "They bother you?"

There was no ridicule in his voice, nor censure, so I nodded. "I can't help but think that the man I killed was someone's sweetheart, someone's son."

"He was," agreed the hob. "Best you remember it, or you'll become more wicked than he ever was. The only thing worse than those who don't think about who they kill, are those who do, and enjoy it."