other, and Stiggur trailing behind like a puppy. Together, the four marched into town. Lily had promised them a good time, though Gull had no idea what that entailed. He was happy just to stare at the sights.
Over the next few days, they explored the town. Gull couldn't believe the diversity, the industry, the color. He loved everything. The streets were wide and fairly clean, though pigs and chickens and dogs ran hither and thither. The buildings were one or two stories, covered with salt-streaked shingles and clapboards, with painted doors and icons dotting the walls. The shops bore painted signs. The ale bars were crammed with sailors and pirates and farmers and artisans. The docks were heaped with goods unloaded from long graceful galleys and boxy cogs. Workshops lay open, so they watched horses being shod, ships being straked, fish being gutted, candles being dipped, cloth being dyed.
Lily bought them foods they'd never tasted. Fresh ocean fish and potatoes fried in olive oil. Lamb roasted with onions. Honeyed squash. Beaver tails baked in beer. She bought Greensleeves and Stiggur huge chunks of rock crystal that proved to be cane sugar dipped on string. She saw Gull try beers from all over, brewed from barley and hops, but also pumpkins, potatoes, mushrooms, even birch bark.
With a purse full of money and some place to spend it, Gull had a seamstress cobble up a new dress for his sister, pale green with darker sleeves, as his mother had sewn long ago, though with a quilted bodice, as the weather was cooler by the sea. He bought Lily a white shawl embroidered with bright flowers along the edges, and she squealed with delight. But for himself, he could think of nothing to buy save a plain gray sweater.
Every afternoon, all four stripped and waded in the ocean, diving and surfing and blubbering and splashing each other like children.
One day, Gull tried to befriend his namesakes, offering scraps, tidbits of bread, but the birds flew off every time, never letting him get within petting distance. When he asked why, Lily told him, 'They're scavengers, Gull. They live by their wits and are wary. They eat what they can, sometimes fighting with dogs and cats and other birds. And they're not really welcome anywhere, though the sailors refuse to kill any seabird. It brings bad luck.'
'Unwelcome touchy scavengers…' mused Gull. 'I'm more like my namesakes than I knew.'
The dancing girl laughed and hugged his arm. 'You're welcome. And hardly touchy. And you're just surviving, as are we all. Look at them this way. Gulls are tough, reliable, smart, quick, and lucky. Does that suit you?'
'Does it suit you?' the woodcutter laughed, and he hugged her waist.
Gull laughed again when he gave Greensleeves the bread. The girl had only to hold out a tidbit and gulls mobbed her, flapping around her skirts, hovering to eat from her hand, even standing on her head.
'What are they called, Greenie?' hollered her brother.
'Birrrdddsss!' giggled his sister.
Throughout their sightseeing, they patiently taught Greensleeves new words, until she pointed and named things like a bright baby. Soon she strung them together: 'Want candy!' 'See fish!' 'Me hungry!' Gull shook his head at the wonder of it, and wished his family were alive to see her mind grow.
But on their fourth night, when most of the town was abed, they got the biggest-and rudest-surprise.
With Stiggur back in camp on watch, Lily, Gull, and Greensleeves walked out together. As Lily always insisted, they passed down the middle of the street to avoid alleys and footpads.
Yet feet came pattering, rapid.
Gull whirled, dragging the women behind.
And grunted in shock.
Chad rushed him with a long club.
Before he could even shout, Gull heard a dull thud. Lily slumped against him, knocked cold by another assassin. Over his shoulder, Gull glimpsed the stolid silent Oles.
Along with outrage at the sneak attack, came questions.
What the hell was going on, that members of his own party attacked him? Who was behind it?
Then came the biggest surprise of all.
A girl's voice called, 'Gull!' He whirled toward the speaker. 'Greensleeves???'
CHAPTER 15
Questions paralyzed Gull.
Greensleeves had called his name? Chad and Oles wanted to kill them? Or capture them? Bells of Kormus, why?
Something whistled at his head and he ducked, shot up an arm to deflect it. Oles, swinging his club. The shock on his biceps jolted him to the spine.
Then Chad charged, club in the air.
Rather than leave his head exposed to another shot from Oles, Gull charged too. Low down.
Scooching, he ducked under two sizzling blows. Stabbing, he grabbed Chad's booted leg and hauled. Chad swore and toppled onto the woodcutter. Gull rolled sideways, yanking, to keep Chad atop and block Oles.
The two men grappled in the dust and trash of the nighttime street. Chad was strong, but no match for Gull. The woodcutter heaved, grabbed Chad's throat. The bodyguard's surprised bleat was cut off. He gulped but couldn't swallow. Without air, panic set in.
Unable to cry for help, Chad drummed his heels. From above, Gull heard Greensleeves mewling. He yelled, 'Run, Greenie!'
Because he was busy. Squeezing the life from a traitor.
Chad kicked, thrashed, gurgled as his air ran out. He beat at Gull's head, but the woodcutter was too close for a solid blow. He scrabbled at Gull's face, clawed at his eyes, but Gull bit a thumb until salty blood stained his mouth.
Strangling, Chad found manic strength. Arching his back, he dragged his short sword from its sheath. He swiped -as Gull tossed him away and bounded to his feet.
Wheezing, Chad clutched his throat, but remembered his danger. On all fours, he tried to raise the sword - and Gull hit him like an avalanche.
Kicking with wooden clogs, the woodcutter cracked the man's collarbone, smacked his shoulder, grazed his handsome head. Gull stooped and hoicked Chad into the air, rending his shirt. Spinning to keep from where he supposed Oles to be, Gull hustled the dancing Chad a fast five steps.
Both gasped as they struck the corner of a building.
Gull crowded Chad, mashing him against the corner with his hip. The bodyguard flailed his sword, slashed at Gull's back, slit leather tunic and skin, but his arm was trapped.
Like a blade, the woodcutter's hand chopped down on Chad's arm. The sword clunked in the dust.
Gull grabbed a fistful of Chad's hair. Lifting the bodyguard on his tiptoes, he pulled to his shoulder -then slammed the handsome man's head against the corner hard as he could.
Like stunning the sedge troll, the first blow dazed Chad, took the fight out of him. Dark hair and skin stuck to rough building shingles.
The second blow was harder, better aimed, and knocked him out.
The fifth killed him.
Gull dropped Chad's maimed body, wiped blood from his hands onto the building.
'Feed the rats, rat.'
Battle-fury abating, he remembered the rest of the attack. Oles. Greensleeves. Lily.
But he was alone in the dark street. He shouted the women's names, got no answer. Where the hell had they gone?
Frantic, he searched up and down the wide street. If Oles were returning to camp-why?-he'd go west, away from the docks.
Gull took a chance. Snatching Chad's sword, running on his aching knee, peering through the darkness, he hunted his sister.
Hundreds of feet on, Gull spied a wide man toting a struggling girl on his shoulder.
Greensleeves squirmed, twisted, hammered with bony fists, kicked, all while mewling like a starved cat. Oles
