Harton sat in his cart, allowing his old horse to pick its own slow pace and enjoying the sunlight that warmed his face. It was not yet strong enough to dispel the chill of the middle spring, but birds already trilled in the trees, and first swollen buds began to burst with tender new leaves. In merely another week, the barren branches of trees would be heavy and green. Harton's face creased with a smile, and his body rocked and bobbed, as the cart rolled untended, save for the will and habit of the old horse.
Harton squinted his eyes and noticed two children walking barefoot on the muddy road toward Turstone, their shirts thread-bare and torn. They stepped aside for his cart to roll by. Pity stirred his old heart for them and he pulled his cart over by the side of the road not far ahead of them.
The children stopped, and the older girl stared at him suspiciously through her unkempt dark hair with sharp, hazel eyes. Her lips tightly pressed together. Her angular face showed signs of starvation, as did the rounded belly of a youngster next to her, whose dirty face showed only misery. Harton looked at them gruffly for a moment, then gestured for them to get in the back of the cart.
"Well, don't stand there all day." He told the girl. "If you be looking to come to town, better hop on."
The girl hesitated only for a moment, before hasting to hoist her brother up into the cart, and then climbing in herself. The two nestled comfortably in the hay by Harton's bundles, and Harton whistled to get his mare idly moving again. They rode together to town. When Harton glanced back, he was rewarded by the girl's hesitant, gap-toothed grin.
"So what your names be?"
"Nala. And Samil, my brother." The girl answered back quickly, still smiling.
"You be orphans?" Her nod did not surprise him.
"And where you hail from?"
The girl's smile disappeared, and her face turned stony. She said nothing back, frowning at the old man with returning suspicion. These two did not meet much kindness in the world of late, Harton guessed sadly.
"Do not worry. You be coming to Turstone. Orphans are never molested in our town, because of the word of good lady Rowena. She and the priests make sure that everyone finds bread and shelter at God's temple. I know that our laeden would be sure to find a safe place for you. He already took in three other orphans this winter, and that despite all the recent madness. Would you like that?"
The girl studied his face attentively. Her tenseness lessened, and longing entered her eyes.
"Yes... I heard that people are nicer here. That's why we came... We came all the way from Noen." The girl admitted.
"Kimeh and Lunn before that. In Lunn, people threw stones at us to chase us away. We passed many villages in between. People everywhere like to throw stones at us, unless we come in with someone they know." The girl casually blew some air from her lips to express her con-tempt.
"Is Turstone a big town or a small one?"
"A big town."
"Good. People be nicer to us in big places."
"Turstone is our lord's hometown. Sir Tolen is his name. Good Lady Rowena is his wife. His castle is right over yonder." Harton pointed to the hill where another road led to the left. The girl's eyes followed his hand readily. Her little brother timidly tugged on her arm. She met his pleading eyes with a harsh look.
"Wait till we get to town. Maybe we'll eat then." She whispered to him firmly. The boy reluctantly nodded and quietly circled his knobby knees with his thin little arms. The girl's eyes rested on him, gentle.
Harton remembered his packed lunch.
"Are you hungry?" He asked. The girl nodded back cautiously.
Harton reached over and grabbed the wrapped parcel from the other seat, which he extended to the children. It smelled deliciously of freshly baked bread, butter, and cheese. The girl hesitantly took the parcel from him, carefully unwrapped it, and then tore the sandwich in half.
"Thank you." Harton heard her voice a moment later, very subdued.
Looking back, he saw that the girl struggled hard not to cry. She no longer looked like a headstrong, protective sister, but as a tired young girl. She looked no older than eight years, Harton decided. He noticed the shade of bruises and numerous scratches showing beneath the grime on her skin. He looked at her brother. His skin looked almost unmarred.
The girl quietly and patiently fed her brother little pieces first, before she stuffed her own mouth. She cares for her brother before she thinks of herself, Harton thought with a touched heart. She ate every crumb, and they both licked their fingers. Harton kept on to town. He felt glad that he was given a chance to help them. Maybe my kind Unna lead these children to me, he squinted at the pleasant blue sky with a hint of a smile. He was looking forward to seeing these children smile. He intended to bring them to the temple as soon as he could. He had only one errand to run first, and even that was on the way.
Coming through the gate, the children grew very tense again. Harton glanced back and saw the girl comforting the little one, who clung to her tightly and buried his head against her side. Absent-mindedly, she patted him on his back, while her own eyes grew bigger at the sight of the large bridge that led into the town and the tall walls around it. Everyone in Turstone was proud of its stone walls.
The cart joined with the throng of people and riders coming from many directions of the adjoin-ing roads, and passed through the gate under the watchful eyes of the guards. One of them recognized Harton and nodded to him, before moving his gaze to others behind him. Harton recognized his son's one-time friend in the somber soldier, and felt a heart-pang. His Lucas would have been fully grown, had he lived.
Harton heard the girl behind him let out a slow breath of relief. He looked back and saw relief on her face. She grinned at him good-naturally when she saw him watching. Her little brother dared to peek out quietly from her lap, with amazingly clear hazel green eyes, wide at the multitude of people all around them.
Harton took the reins and navigated carefully through the market, turning off into a small side-street to the back of Landon Bommer's apothecary shop. Harton intended to first deliver his goods, before heading to the temple, which was only a few roads farther, along the main street.
Reaching the two-story building, Harton stopped the cart and looked back at the children.
"Before I take you to temple, I have just one errand to run. You won't mind waiting for me here, will you?" He asked the girl.
Looking nervous, she stopped gazing around herself with big eyes, and nodded to him. When he took the heavy bundle off the carriage, the girl suddenly spoke up.
"Please, can we go with you?" Her voice seemed anxious, her eyes pleading and frightened. "I can help you carry something. I am stronger than I look."
"Sure."
Harton waited for her to scramble off the cart. Her brother held out his arms to her, to be taken off the cart. She did so gently.
"What do you want me to carry?" She asked firmly, studying the parcels.
Harton gave her one of his smaller bundles. The girl took it and walked with him, confidence returning to her eyes. Her brother ran to stay afoot with them. Harton couldn't help smiling.
"All right. This way."
He led his little troupe to Landon's. The girl hasted to open the door for him. The apothecary's assistant counted out some money to him, while Nala curiously wandered about his shop with her brother in tow, grasping tightly to her dirty torn skirt. The assistant looked over his glasses at her.
"Orphans?" He asked drily. When Harton nodded, the man merely returned to his papers and scribbled Harton a receipt. He also handed Harton another note, written in master Landon's handwriting, which listed the next batch of herbs his master requested. Harton glanced over the accurately written words and pocketed the note
"... Too many of them this year. This city doesn't have enough room for them all." The assistant commented without lifting up his eyes. Harton always thought he was a little stuck-up, but tried to think the best of the man.
"Good day to you, Unar." He said with friendliness.
The man responded back with merely a curt nod, and continued to pretend to be very busy with counting the numbers of who owed his master what amount for his remedies. Harton didn't want to waste anymore time on courtesies with the man. He turned and headed to the door, motioning the girl to come along.
Immediately, she left gazing at the multi-colored bottles on the shelves and followed, pulling her little brother with her by his hand.
Now, while the front of the shop faced the busy market street, the back of the shop where Harton parked his cart lay in a narrow, dirty alley. When Harton closed the back door of the shop behind him and looked at his cart, he saw several rugged looking men ruffling through his torn bundles, herbs spilling out. He had promised that young priest that he would bring those herbs to him!
"Hey!" He called angrily, starting out toward them.
A sharp pain stabbed and sliced across his neck, silencing his rebuke. Hands quickly lowered him to the ground. He felt deft hands relieving his pockets of their contents. Landon's request note went flying into the dirt. Another quick slash of the knife severed his belt sash.
"That's all he's got! Let's go!" He heard the man behind him call briefly to the others. Their feet fled away past him.
He could not breathe. Blood gurgled in his throat, gushing out past his wooden fingers. He was drowning in it. His limbs grew distant and cold, refusing to obey him. With his cheek pressed against the cobble-stones, he stared with dimming eyes at the empty alley. He heard, rather than saw, the girl who knelt next to him, reaching to his neck with her small hands. He barely had the sense to feel slight puzzlement at that, before his thoughts numbed.
He felt a searing heat scorch his neck, and the pain of it kept him from falling into darkness for another moment.
"Don't be afraid." He heard the girl's nervous whisper.
"I am helping you. You are a kind man and you should not die."
Suddenly, Harton drew in a deep clean breath into his lungs. He heard a door creak open close by and then a startled gasp.
"What the... Demon! It's a demon!" A rough voice exclaimed. A shrill scream of a frightened woman was the last Harton heard, before he lost his senses within the foggy darkness.