turned in the direction of the sound when Garth shoved his shoulder.
“A wagon!” Garth cried. “Out o’ the road!”
The driver shouted as Merlin scrambled to push the wheelbarrow off to the side.
“Make way for the magister,” the man shouted. “Make way!”
A whip snapped and the air cracked above Merlin’s head.
The wheelbarrow hit a rock, and Merlin felt it tilt out of his control just as Garth ran into his back, causing him to fall, with a chicken flapping against his face. Merlin removed the feathered mass in time to see the blur of the goat leap over the tub and everything else tumble out of the barrow.
The wagon rumbled by and came to an abrupt stop in front of the magister’s house.
Merlin sat up and rubbed his knees. He felt around for the bag of oats and found it spilled on the ground — a feast for the chicken and goat. At least it would keep them nearby.
The passengers climbed out of the wagon, and amid the general din of everyone walking toward the house, Merlin heard a soft, lovely voice and a gentle strumming. “Garth, is that a harp?”
“A small one, sure. A lady is holdin’ it.” Garth rose and brushed off his knees. “The magister ignored us, him in his fancy white robe. But did you see those boys? They’d liked to have kicked us.”
Merlin pushed the goat away from the oats and knelt to scoop what grain he could find back into the bag. “How old?”
“Oh, the bigger one weren’t more’n yer age, an’ the other’s about fourteen, I’d say.”
“That’s do-nothing Rondroc and Dyslan. I meant the one with the harp. Was that the mother?”
“Oh, no,” Garth said. “Must be the daughter … but a lot older’n your sister. She held herself straight and ladylike. Does she come to chapel?”
“Natalenya and her mother came two weeks ago. Tregeagle doesn’t let them come every week.” Merlin had never heard the magister’s daughter sing so sweetly before.
Garth tapped him. “Hey, look at those horses!”
Merlin rubbed his chin and closed his eyes. “Pretty?”
“Very! That yellin’ wagon driver tied ‘em to a post an’ —”
“Must be Erbin.” Merlin chuckled and swatted Garth. “But I’m talking about Natalenya. I don’t remember what she looks like. Is she pretty?”
“Blurs don’t count for seein’, huh? I guess you’d think she’s pretty. Long brown hair and green dress, but I don’t go for that. The horses look fine, though. White, with such shiny coats — an’ so tall they match that fancy wagon. Me father’s old wagon just brought fish to market. Sure woulda helped us gettin’ the charcoal if I still had it.”
Garth paused for a moment, and Merlin remembered that the boy’s father had drowned in a storm not six months before while fishing on the Kembry sea. Twelve winters old, and Garth had already lost both of his parents.
After clearing his throat, Garth continued, “But this wagon’s a real beauty, with a wide seat up front. The back box is fine for sittin’ too, though you could just haul with it.” The chicken jumped on Merlin’s shoulder, and Garth swatted it away. “Get off, you!”
Merlin stood. “Better deliver these things and get the charcoal.” He righted the barrow, and they refilled it. He could still hear Natalenya’s voice filtering from her home, and he wished he had something for her.
“Psst,” Garth said. “Those nasty boys are comin’ over.”
Merlin turned toward the approaching footsteps and extended his hands in greeting, only to have them ignored.
“What are you doing here? Spying?” Rondroc said as he stepped up to Merlin. The older of Tregeagle’s sons, Rondroc stood slightly taller than Merlin. His dark clothing lay on him like a shadow, and from his side protruded a short black scabbard.
Dyslan, the younger brother, wore reds and blues, with what looked to be a shining golden belt. He yanked on Garth’s voluminous robe. “What’s this for? Monks are getting smaller all the time.”
“It keeps me warm,” Garth said, his voice tight.
“It’s kind of like a dress,” Dyslan mocked. “If you had darker hair and acted kind of weird, I might have thought you were Merlin’s sister.”
“Leave Ganieda out of this,” Merlin said, feeling his pulse speed up.
Rondroc pointed to the wheelbarrow. “What do you have a goat for? Taking your whole flock to pasture?” He and Dyslan laughed.
Merlin gripped the handles tighter. “We just had a look at the fortress.”
“You?” Dyslan said. “Had a look? Ha!”
“Let’s go, Garth.” Merlin lifted the wheelbarrow, rolled it forward, and accidentally