could eat somethin’! I’m hungry as a sea bass.”
“Eat your eggs.”
“They’re still too hot from sittin’ in that char-man’s fire while we loaded up. Besides, I’ve got to get the mud off ‘em before I can eat ‘em.”
“Mud?”
“To keep ‘em from explodin’ while they cooked.”
Garth turned back onto the main road and followed the ridge southward toward Bosventor. They went down one hill and climbed the next, Garth snapping the reins for speed. And he kept sniffing the air. “Once on top, I bet we’ll smell that roastin’ meat again!”
“So?”
“Hey, a puff o’ smoke’s crossin’ the road ahead.”
Merlin sighed.
“Ahh! Incredible!” Garth took four big whiffs. “That’s the best smellin’ meat in the world. Great gobs o’ juicy chunks poppin’ with fat.” He took another deep whiff, pulled the horses to a stop, and handed the reins to Merlin. “Hang on to these.”
Merlin let the reins out as the horses bent down to graze on the grass by the side of the road. “Something wrong?”
The boy jumped down. “Goin’ to see what’s cookin’.”
“Garth, get back here!” Merlin yelled.
The boy shushed him from the edge of the road. “They’ll hear you.” The lower branches of the pines parted and closed to mark his passing.
“Come back!” Merlin called as the chicken flapped up and landed on his shoulder. The goat shifted and started eating his sleeve. What’s the boy doing? Running off into the woods alone, where some strangers were cooking meat? For all Merlin knew, they were thieves — or worse.
He tied the goat’s rope to the railing, then felt for his staff and found it in the foot box. Trusting that Tregeagle’s well-trained horses would stay put, he noted the position of the sun and began tapping along the ground in the direction Garth had gone.
But the brush was thick, and Merlin had to force his way through. He wanted to call out the boy’s name but feared giving away their presence, so he paused as often as he could to listen for the sound of Garth’s eager footsteps. There was barely enough light falling through the trees for Merlin to navigate around their shadowy trunks, each of which he touched with his free hand as he passed. Branches barred his way, and he often had to duck to prevent his eyes from getting jabbed. The last thing he wanted was another injury to his already-scarred vision.
Above him, the calling, fluttering, and chittering of the birds ceased, the rustle of the squirrels halted, and all the woods became quiet as if to hide some secret from Merlin. Now he heard Garth ahead — not far off — but nature’s silence unnerved him. His own heart thumped in his ears as he struggled through the increasingly thick thornbushes that grasped at him like small, sharp knives.
More than once Merlin thought he heard something behind him. A ravenous wolf hunting for prey, drawn to the smell of the meat? Ready to lunge at his throat? The boy knew Merlin’s history with wolves. Why would he run off like that? Merlin checked his dirk and tried to ignore the trembling in his shoulders.
And Garth, that hungry sneak, was getting harder to track. He seemed to be crouching behind trees and waiting until he knew the coast was clear before skulking toward the source of the smoke. So whenever Merlin lost him, he had only the aroma to follow in the hope of hearing Garth again.
In this way Merlin found himself on a sort of beaten path — thin, secret, and snakelike — that meandered toward the delicious aroma. Could it be a trail for deer … Or wolves? Either way, Merlin finally closed in on his friend.
Garth, plainly exasperated at being followed, turned on him to whisper, “Shah, Merlin. Yer lumbering is givin’ me away! Go back an’ watch the horses!”
Merlin ignored this rebuke, stepped toward the boy — a shadow against a pine tree — and grabbed the front of his woolen monk’s robe. “We’re going together.”
Unmatched in height and strength, Merlin began dragging Garth backward down the path as his friend dug in his heels and struggled to get free.
“Leave me be,” Garth pleaded, “an’ I promise I’ll be quick!”
Merlin was preparing to retort that he wasn’t about to trust Garth’s stomach when he heard branches breaking … and footfalls on the trail. He pulled Garth behind a bush, and they both dropped to their knees.
“Get that stick o’ yers down, or we’ll be seen,” Garth hissed.
Merlin crouched lower, laid his staff