Luck in the Shadows

him a purplish-brown lobe of liver. "You want some of this? Good for your blood in the winter."
    "Thanks." Accepting the morsel, Seregil sat down by the fire and watched him thoughtfully.
    Alec colored a little under that frank gaze.
    "Thank you for saving my life last night. I'm in your debt."
    "You handled yourself well enough. How old are you, anyway? You look young to be roaming around
    all by yourself."
    "Sixteen last summer," Alec replied a bit gruffly. He was often taken for younger than he was. "I've lived my whole life in the woods."
    "But not alone, surely?"
    Alec hesitated, wondering how much he really wanted to reveal to this odd stranger. "My father died just after the summer solstice."
    "I see. An accident, was it?"
    "No, he had the wasting sickness." Tears stung Alec's eyes and he bent lower over the rabbit, hoping Seregil wouldn't notice. "It was a hard death. Even the drysians couldn't help him in the end."
    "You've been on your own all of three months, then?"
    "Yes. We missed the spring bird trade, so I had to spend the summer in Stone Tor working off our debt to the inn where Father lay sick. Then I came out for the fall trapping, like we always did. I already had a whole string of pelts, good ones, when ran into Asengai's men. Now, with no equipment, no horse, nothing, I don't know—" He broke off, his face grim; he'd walked the thin line of starvation before.
    "Don't you have a family somewhere?" Seregil asked after a moment. "Where's your mother?"
    "I never knew her."
    "Friends?"
    Alec handed him the dressed rabbit and took up the second. "We kept to ourselves mostly. Father didn't like towns."
    "I see. So what will you do now?"
    "I don't know. In Stone Tor, I worked in the scullery and helped out the ostler. I guess I'll have to go back to that for the winter."
    Seregil made no comment and Alec worked in silence for a moment. Then, watching the steam from the open carcass rise between his fingers, he asked, "All that back there last night—was it you they were looking for?"
    Seregil smiled slightly as he skewered the first rabbit on a long stick and propped it over the fire. "That's a dangerous question to ask a stranger. If I was, I'd probably kill you just for asking. No, I'm just a wandering collector of tales. I've picked up a lot that way."
    "So you really are a bard, then?"
    "Sometimes. I was up above Kerry not long ago, collecting stories of the Faie who were supposed to have lived up in the Ironheart Mountains beyond Ravensfell Pass. Being from that region yourself, you must know something about them."
    "The Elder Folk, you mean?" Alec grinned. "Those were always my favorite stories. We used to cross
    trails with a skald who knew all about them. He said they were magic folk, like trolls or centaurs. When I was little I used to look for them in the shadows of the trees, though Father said it was foolish. 'Those tales are nothing but smoke from a liar's pipe! he'd say" — Alec's voice faltered and he broke off, rubbing at his eyes as if smoke had blown into them.
    Seregil tactfully failed to notice his distress.
    "Anyhow, a few days ago I ran afoul of Asengai, same as you. I'm off Wolde now. I've got a bit of singing lined up there in three days' time."
    "Three days?" Alec shook his head. "You'd have to go straight over the Downs to get there that quickly."
    "Damn! I must be farther west than I thought. I hear the Downs are a dangerous place for anyone who doesn't know where the springs are."
    "I could show you," Alec offered. "I've been back and forth across them most of my life. Maybe I could turn up some work there, too."
    "Do you know the town?"
    "We traded there every fall at the Harvest Fair."
    "Sounds like I've found myself a guide." Seregil extended his hand. "What's your price?"
    "I can't take your money," Alec protested. "Not after what you did for me."
    Seregil waved this aside with a crooked grin. "Honor's for men with money in their pockets; you've got a long, cold winter ahead. Come now, name your price and I'll pay it gladly."
    The logic was indisputable. "Two silver marks,"
    Alec replied after a moment's calculation. Reaching to clasp hands on it, however, his father's voice spoke in the back of his mind and he drew back, adding, "Hard money, and half now."
    "Very prudent of you."
    As they shook on the bargain, Alec felt a curving edge against his palm and drew his hand from Seregil's to find himself holding a large silver coin. Two fingers wide and covered with fine