lurched onward, shifting his burden, peering around for the town watch.
Kicking off his clogs, Gull pattered full tilt. Greensleeves's noise drowned out his approach. Leveling the borrowed sword, Gull aimed for Oles's back, low so the blade wouldn't bind in his ribs.
The sword bit clean as a snake's fang, slithered a cold path through Oles's gut. The sword point jutted from his belly, then withdrew, the rasping steel making him shiver.
Oles's strength failed as blood gushed from the wound. He stumbled, tried to hold the girl captive, but she was plucked from his shoulder.
He landed facedown in the dirt without a sound.
Gull towed his sister along the strand. The sand was firmest between the high tide line, marked by seaweed, and the waves. From what Lily had told him of tides, incoming water would cover their tracks.
Because most of all, Gull needed time to think.
Waves crashed and collapsed on the shore, streaming toward their feet as creamy white foam. The beach became rocks farther on, and he ducked between them, hopped from one salty boulder to the next, squished over heaps of seaweed that popped underfoot. The Mist Moon and starlight and the glow of the ocean itself lit their way. Wakened sea gulls squawked and took flight. Gull hoped his namesakes didn't betray him.
Past the rocks was a headland of sea grass and scrub oaks. He boosted Greensleeves up, climbed after her, and dragged her to the deepest patch of cover he could find. Grass and brambles tugged at her skirts and his bare legs. Kissed by the breeze through his slit shirt, his sword slice burned and itched.
Once past the first barrier of brambles, he used Chad's sword to hack through mulberry bushes. Cuttings gave a sweet resinous scent. A large flat rock stippled with lichens formed a clearing big enough for them to sit. The rock was warm from the day's sun, and they were below the chill sea breeze. Surf sound was muted.
Gasping, Gull collapsed, careful he didn't nick his sister with the sword. He took quick stock of their situation. He had his black dagger and mulewhip, Chad's sword, a purse full of coins, and nothing else. Greensleeves had less, a gown and shawl.
The question was, how much trouble were they in?
Had Chad and Oles worked alone? Had they planned to… what? Kill Gull for revenge, over a few insults? Not likely, since they'd used clubs and not swords. Sell Greensleeves to prostitution? Slavery? Sell both of them? Lily had warned merchants sometimes kidnapped landsmen, 'crimped' them to be sailors, since seafaring was a harsh and miserable life. Was Greensleeves bound for a harem? Whom had they been after, exactly?
And more importantly, and darkly Had Towser sent them?
Gull disliked Towser as a man, considering him foppish and superior and snotty and fussy, but perhaps all people of education or position were that way. Still, he hadn't minded working for him, as the wizard was a fair and undemanding master. Mostly Towser was distracted and aloof, his head full of mystical plans and problems. Gull didn't trust him, but had no reason to distrust him.
Until now.
So what to do? Approach Towser and demand the truth? Would anyone in the entourage help if treachery were afoot? Morven, maybe, Stiggur, perhaps. Lily, of course, but where was she? He'd felt her slump, but then she'd disappeared. Crawled off? Hauled off?
A thousand questions and no answers. Nothing made sense.
As always, he spoke to his sister, as to his mules, to clarify his thoughts. 'Any ideas, Greenie?'
He got his biggest shock of the night.
She answered.
'N-no.'
Gull rubbed his brow. Maybe he'd been thumped on the head without knowing it. Quietly, he asked, 'What did you say?'
'No…'
'You can understand me?'
'Y-yes…' Her voice was hesitant. Also pleasant, he noted, like birdsong, or his mother's singing. But very slow, as if she had to fathom each word. In the shadowed glen, he couldn't see her eyes, but sensed she watched him.
For the first time in her life, she showed intelligence. 'A-always c-could.'
'Could what?'
'Under-stand… I kn-knowed you were th-there, but h-hard to-to-I c-couldn't-' She flapped small hands in exasperation. 'I-heared you. B-but there was-was so much el-se. Birds. Flow-ers… Sk-sky…'
Her brother strove to understand. 'You always knew my words, but other things distracted you?'
'Yes… yes!' Her voice became animated, like a child's.
Gull pondered. When he was young, a father in the village had fallen from a roof. He'd landed on his head and almost died. Forever after, he'd be some days foggy-minded, some days clear-headed. Brain-damaged, in short, like his sister at birth.
Or so they'd thought. Now she was lucid. Had she been hit on the head too?
'Why can you suddenly talk so well? Do you know?'
'T-trees,' she intoned.
'Trees?'
'Too much trees. All around.' Gesturing, she formed a canopy over her head. 'W-words of trees- talked in my head. Told me… stories.'
'Whispers? The Whispering Woods? You heard stories?'
She nodded, her face a pale blob in the semidarkness.
Gull scratched his head, found a crusty scab that stung. So… the mystery of the Whispering Woods was solved, partly. The trees did talk. Except normal folk couldn't understand them, as if they spoke a foreign tongue. But his poor benighted sister heard their songs and secrets, so many they overwhelmed her poor brain.
So that meant…
'Oh! We left the Whispering Woods behind when we struck the pine barrens… Then a few days of travel… and you started to talk. Oh! Once clear of the forest, your mind cleared!'
'Yes. T-talk on my own, now. To you. Br-brother Gull.'
Gull was surprised at the sob that choked him. His name, so sweet coming from his sister-who'd lost her mind and found it.
Grabbing, he squeezed her till she squeaked. 'Sq-squash me… Gull.'
'Yes,' was all he could say.
Then it struck him. He held his sister at arm's length. 'Oh, my. All this time I took you to the forest because you loved it so, and to keep you out of trouble, and here the forest clouded your mind! It's my fault you were- stricken.'
'No,' her smile was gentle, 'I-I love the w-woods. I-'
She stopped. Hunting the right word, Gull assumed. But her glance went over his head, into the moonlit sky.
Within bowshot, hovering against the canopy of stars, a man flew.
A dozen thoughts crashed upon Gull.
They'd been found! By Towser!
And the bastard could fly! So it had been he and not the brown-robed wizard who'd flown over White Ridge and unleashed the weakness!
And now he hunted Gull and Greensleeves. Probably not to succor his lost lambs.
'Get down!' Gull hissed. He mashed his sister flat, leaned over her. But it was probably too late. Between the hush of surf and hum of sea breeze, and excitement over their fantastic discoveries, they'd talked normally. Anyone nearby could have heard them, especially in the air. Gull knew that from climbing trees.
He looked again, but the wizard was gone. Was that good or bad? Either, they must get away.
A barbarian shout shook the night, issuing from a score of throats. Gull had heard that before, far away Brush rattled, thrashed, split. A blue-painted warrior, white-haired and tusked, armed with a curved sword and leather shield, charged. Gull shoved Greensleeves, ordering her to flee, then lifted his sword-knowing full well he was no swordsman. But even if the barbarian killed him… But there were a score or more: he'd heard them shout… How many could he battle before he was killed? One? Who'd guard Greensleeves then…?
