When Harton awakened, he was not at first sure where he was. Landon, and brother Andales helped him up, at once assailing him with questions about the changeling that they seemed to think had at-tacked him. At first, he didn't understand them. Then his last memories returned to him.
"A changeling? No, it was some ruffians that attacked me. Cut my throat and left me to die. I think that girl, whoever she be, tried to help me somehow. She said so herself."
"It could speak?" Andales interrupted excitedly, and Harton nodded to him.
"I was bringing them to you, duellen." Harton told duellen Andales. "I didn't know that she was anything than what she seemed to be... But she didn't harm me. She healed me, I am sure of it. I would have died had it not been for her." He affirmed confidently, unconsciously reaching his hands to his neck.
He clearly recalled his helplessness, feeling his hot blood gushing around his clumsy fingers. He had been certain that he would die.
"Why would it help you?" The apothecary asked with rising incredulousness. Willen Andales was quiet, a shadow upon his face.
"I suppose because I was kind to her. I saw that she and the little one were hungry. I gave them some of my food. And I told her about you and how you've cared for other orphans. I promised that you would do the same for her and her brother..." Harton trailed away, frowning.
He wondered what happened to the girl's little brother. Neither Landon nor Willen Andales mentioned him. Harton's sim-ple explanation was meanwhile met by silence, and both men exchanged uncertain glances.
"Harton...The changeling is dead." Landon told him uncomfortably. Harton looked at brother Andales for confirmation. The young scholar nodded regretfully.
"It was hunted and killed. Everyone thought it attacked you. So the whole town searched for it. For some reason, it kept returning here, to Landon's. They finally found it hiding in engraver Illaden's shed. Then they beat it and burned it to death, just outside." Landon pointed outside the window to the street.
Harton kept silent at first, taken aback by the news.
"If only I had awakened sooner..." He finally said. "I don't think she meant anyone any harm." He finally said. Brother Andales' face grew grim.
"It wouldn't have mattered, my friend. By revealing itself the way it did, it condemned itself to death. The law condemned it, and the high priests, who are visiting here now. Even sir Tolen could do nothing..."
"She was only a child. I spoke to her. She seemed a little angry, but her heart was not evil, I am sure of it..."
"What done is done, Harton." Brother Andales said gently. Harton lapsed back into silence.
"...I wish to go home." He said heavily.
Harton walked down the stairs with their help, then told them he felt better, and walked on his own. Brother Andales and Landon had taken care of his horse, although they didn't know what to do about the ruined herbal bundles. Harton thanked them. They left him. Landon returned to his own affairs, and brother Andales went back to tell the elders what he learned directly from Harton about the changeling.
Harton stood a while, caressing his horse's nose after he harnessed it back to his cart, then unwillingly looked toward Illaden's shop, where several curious onlookers had gathered, discussing with eager abandon the exciting events of yesterday. They commented crudely on the tenaciousness of the creature, comparing it with a cockroach.
"I swear, I heard it's broken bones crunch under my boot. Yet it still tried to crawl away."
"Even fire did not finish it off that quick. I've never seen anything like it."
"It sure was an exciting chase! I have not had this much fun since the tournaments."
Disbelieving the casual way in which they spoke, Harton left his cart, and approached them.
"How can you be so cruel? It was only a child!" He admonished them, tears catching in his throat. The men stared at him as though he was mind-touched. Stirring each other to move away from him, they walked away without a comment. A few times, they cast back glances at him. Harton did not care.
He noticed the burned spot in the street and stood still. He noticed first the minute debris left behind, then the dark stains of his own spilled blood that had not yet been washed out. It was right here, he thought to himself, that a kind girl died because of him, for inadvertently revealing herself when she chose to save his life. Did she do it just because of his one small kindness to her and to her brother? And where was that little one? Harton looked around.
He saw only conversing people. And to think that it was these people he knew and respected, people whom he always thought to be kind-hearted, who had done this cruel deed.
Illaden, who overheard the exchange, recognized the old man as the changeling's victim. The tears that began to trail down the old man's face surprised Illaden. Curious, Illaden stood at the door of his shop and watched him silently.
"She was only a child." Harton looked up helplessly, his eyes red and distressed.
"She didn't mean any harm. Some criminals hurt me, not her. She healed me." Illaden stared at him without expression. Harton recognized Illaden in turn.
"You are the engraver. You were there when they found her." Harton stated. After a moment, Illaden nodded reluctantly.
"And was she alone?"
Illaden said nothing, but Harton saw the hesitance in man's eyes, which told him what he wanted to know. He hurried across the street toward the man and leaned in close, least anyone else overheard him.
"My good man, perchance, have you also seen a little boy?" He asked very quietly. "Hazel eyes, dark hair, only this high." Harton held his hand at a level below his thigh. The other man looked at him with a tense face. Then, nervously, he nodded, and also leaned slightly closer.
"Yes... In my shed, last night. It was also a changeling, though."
"What did you do with him?"
"It was so small. I felt sorry for it. I took it outside the city and left it in the woods." The man said reluctantly.
"Where?"
"By Jimmy's Bend." Illaden said, frowning. He carefully studied Harton's face. When Harton said nothing, the engraver looked as though he wanted to say something, but glanced at the group of people who passed by them, and only shook his head. After they passed by, he dared to speak.
"Leave it be." Illaden warned the old man quietly. "Don't look for it. It is probably already gone. It will be trouble to help it."
Harton nodded absently. Illaden nodded back, still frowning, and walked back inside his shop. Slowly then, making sure not to appear to be in a hurry, Harton walked back to his cart and climbed in the lead.
Calmly, he stirred the horse, drove through the market, then out of the town gate, nodding to the friendly guards at the gate who recognized and hailed him, unaware that he was at the center of the commotion that stirred the entire town yesterday.
He drove all the way to the bend of the road by the hill that everyone called Jimmy's Bend, though no one remembered the story connected with that name. Then, he hurried off his cart and headed toward the woods, when he realized that he couldn't remember the name by which the girl called the child, and so he could not call for him. If the child wandered far off, he would not be able to find him, he thought worriedly.
Just as he thought that, something moved his heart and Harton's eyes fell on a small, hollow log just a few steps away.
With surging hope, he walked toward it and looked within. A smile broke through on old man's face when he found the little boy curled up inside, asleep. Harton then also recalled the child's name.
"Samil... There you are, poor fellow."
Gently, he reached within the log and picked up the drowsy child. The little one looked at him with vague recognition, and clasped his small hands around him, burying his dirty face against his chest. Harton felt how weak his little tired hug was. Tears balled up in his throat again.
"There, there. You will be safe with me. I will take care of you." He whispered, carrying the child back to the cart.
Up in the lead, he carefully settled the child on his lap, and struggled with one hand to pick up and jostle the reigns. The horse knew where to go. It took them quietly and unhurriedly back to his little farm.