Deliberately he did not complete the sentence.
The old man lowered his head to stare at the map for a long time, but it seemed to Declan that he was looking far beyond the shapes it displayed to places and times that he saw in his mind alone. Sean watched him closely, not speaking and seeming scarcely to breathe. Finally Ma'el looked up.
'I agree,' he said gently, 'that for this journey great care and patience must be exercised in the choice of a ship, and in the weighing of the characters of its captain and crew, and in taking all of the precautions that it is possible for us to foresee before the decision to embark is made. Protector Declan, I favor your last suggestion. We will travel to Cobh.'
Ma'el rose slowly to his feet and returned to the wagon. Sean maintained an angry silence while he smothered the fire, replaced the cooking utensils, untethered the horse and harnessed it to the wagon. Several times Declan offered to help him with these tasks, but on each occasion he was either refused with discourteous words or ignored.
The sun had climbed high above the trees when they resumed their journey. Declan was seated on the wide driving bench beside the boy, all of whose attention was concentrated on guiding the wagon out of their clearing and onto the rutted forest track. Ma'el was inside the tented section, quiet and presumably resting. Declan decided that whether their journey together was to be long or short, he would rather that the boy would use civil words to him rather than continually nagging like an old shrew. He tried again.
'All directions are dangerous and it was not my decision that we take this one,' he said, nodding his head toward the rear of the wagon, 'it was our master's.'
Sean did not reply. Declan summoned up patience and went on, 'He has the manner of a kindly and considerate man, and I do not believe that he would willingly place a boy like you in danger. Before we reach Cork, I'm sure he would understand if you were unwilling to leave the land of your birth, perhaps forever, and asked to be released from his service.'
The boy shook his head. 'There is nothing left for me in this land except the darkest of memories,' he said, then, in a quiet but very firm voice, 'I shall not leave him because I owe him too much.'
It was Declan's turn to remain silent, for he had the feeling that Sean wanted to talk now and, with a little more patience on his part, the boy's answers would come without need of him asking the questions.
'When I was little more than a grown child…' he began, and broke off to glare for a moment at him as if expecting a derisive comment before going on, '… when I was a youth of less than twelve summers, he found me alone, cold, hungry, hunted by the hired assassins of my murdered family and in danger of losing my own life. He helped me, showed me how to hide from them in plain sight, cared for me and, in time, he gradually banished my fears of the day and the worse ones of night that constantly plagued my dreams, first by speaking gentle words to me and then by encouraging me to practice and improve on the healing skills taught to me by my father. He did much else besides.
'I will not leave him even if he should order me away.'
Some of the reasons for Sean's unfriendliness and suspicion toward him had become plain, Declan thought, and he was even beginning to feel a certain admiration for the boy, especially for his loyalty toward the old man.
'If enemies are or were wanting you dead,' Declan observed, 'it is likely that Sean is not your true name.'
The boy's lips pressed tightly together and Declan felt the old hostility return. He went on quickly, 'I have no wish to know your family or clan name, lest in a moment's lack of thought I let it slip in the wrong company. But curiosity eats at my belly like a nest of worms, and there is one thing I would like to know if you are at liberty to divulge it. You say that the old man did much else for you. Did he, perchance, instruct you in the use of his spells and magical arts?'
'No,' Sean replied, a shadow that might have been of disappointment passing briefly across his face. His manner began to thaw once more as he went on, 'He always makes sure that I am warm and sheltered by day and night, and at times he spoke counseling words that were valuable beyond price…' he gave a small, backward jerk of his head, '… but I have never been allowed to see inside his wagon. I doubt if any living soul other than himself will ever do so.'
Declan smiled. 'Then I, too, shall not ask to see his secret lair,' he said, 'so that I, too, will be spared the embarrassment of his refusal… Damn it to hell, this accursed wagon likes me not!'
Their horse was pulling them forward without complaint at a steady walking pace, its hooves thumping quietly into the patches of grass and soft earth that made up the uneven track they were following. But they had come on a stretch that was so deeply rutted that their thick, solid wheels sank almost to the axles before being pulled free. Several times Declan had to grip the edge of the driving bench with both hands while pressing one foot tightly against the handle of his axe, which he had laid on the timber floor within easy reach in case of a sudden attack, to avoid the weapon and himself being thrown sideways to the ground. Sean, who was half-standing and swaying easily from side to side as if on the deck of a sea-tossed ship, was not discomfited. When the track became even it was the boy who spoke first.
'Ma'el is a strange man,' said Sean as if their conversation had not been interrupted, 'very strange, subtle, and mysterious, but good. Declan, promise me that you won't lay plans against him.'
'If he has you on his side,' he replied, smiling, '1 wouldn't dare.'
Sean frowned, looking anxious and disappointed. Declan stopped smiling.
'For what my word is worth to you,' he said seriously, 'I swear that I will harm neither of you so long as I am in Ma'el's service. But I am vastly curious about him. How does such a mild-mannered person live and gain sustenance in this uncaring country? What protection other than ourselves does he have? Who are his patrons? What advantage does he provide for them?'
'I don't know,' Sean replied. 'At least, I don't know enough to speak with full knowledge and I prefer, therefore, to remain silent rather than indulge in conjecture. But enough about our master and myself, what of yourself? Are you tied to Hibernia by family, friends, or loved ones? Is Declan your true name?'
'It is one of my true names,' he replied, and suddenly he felt himself wanting to speak to the boy as he had done to no other person in his memory, but caution put a brake on his tongue as he went on, 'But it is the only name you will ever know. I will not speak the names of my family or clan because to learn those, if your curiosity was to persist and you sought further information about them, you would also learn of my shameful and at times unruly past'
When Sean's eyes were not on the horse or the track ahead, they were on him. Obviously the boy was waiting for more.
'Unlike you.' he went on, 'my father is still alive. My mother died at my birthing, which may explain but not excuse my father's unalterable lack of affection for me, or for the hostility toward me of his second, and very comely wife and her children. In anger I disowned him with harsh words before he could disown me and
… But enough, I begin to whine like a whipped cur.'
Sean looked for a moment at his tattered cloak and disheveled aspect but did not speak, knowing that the further questions that were on the tip of his tongue would not be answered.
Declan climbed to his feet and stood on top of the driving bench, which he had done at regular intervals since they had set off that morning, to see if possible enemies were following or flanking or lying in wait ahead of them, but they seemed to have the sunlit winter countryside all to themselves. He resumed his seat and resolved to change the subject.
'Before we reach Cashel,' he said, 'I will ask Ma'el for a few coins of silver or gold. There is something I would like to do there.'
'I have no doubt of it' said Sean angrily. A dark, disapproving cloud settled on his features. In the face of a look like that, Declan thought, it would be a waste of time and breath for him to try to explain further. They rode in silence for the remainder of the afternoon.
The sun was touching the treetops behind them before he spoke again. This time the subject was a safe one, Declan knew from observation, and one that was close to the boy's heart.
'That is a fine horse,' he said, 'very strong but no longer young. No danger threatens for as far as I can see. Don't you think it deserves a rest after pulling this heavy wagon for most of the day?'
They rode for several minutes in silence before Sean replied.
'The wagon is only as heavy,' he said, 'as Ma'el allows it to be.'
