A chattering from above caused Roo to sit upright, brushing leaves from his face. He looked around, then up, and saw the author of the scolding racket, a red squirrel defiantly challenging their right to be camped under his tree. Before Roo could clearly focus on the creature, it vanished around the bole.
Then he realized he was outside. He turned and saw Erik sleeping soundly, under a clean blanket, his chest rising and falling evenly, his color good. Roo looked down and saw he was likewise bundled against the night’s chill in another heavy blanket, and he felt behind him, to where his head had rested.
Like Erik’s, his head had rested on a travel bundle. His own was missing. He opened the new one, fearing he had been robbed. Inside, he discovered a clean tunic and trousers, a fresh pair of underdrawers and stockings, and at the bottom he found his money pouch. He quickly counted and was pleased to find his twenty-seven golden sovereigns and sixteen silver royals all there.
Roo stood, and found himself remarkably rested. Of the charcoal burner’s hut there was no sign, not even ashes from the kiln. Roo felt he should have been alarmed by this, but he found himself amused and close to happy.
He knelt beside Erik and tried to examine the bandage. It was still clean and, if anything, looked as if someone had just changed it. He gently reached out and touched his friend on the arm. “Erik,” he said.
Erik came awake, blinking for a moment, then sat up. “What?”
“I wanted to see how you felt.”
Erik looked around. “Where are we? Last thing I remember . . .”
“A hut and an old woman?”
Erik nodded. “And someone else, too. But I can’t recall who.”
“Miranda,” said Roo. “She said that was her name, but old Gert said she knew nothing of her.”
Roo stood and extended his hand to Erik. Erik took it and let his friend pull him to his feet. Expecting to be the worse for wear, Erik discovered he felt fairly fit.
“How’s the shoulder?”
“Stiff,” he answered as he moved it experimentally. “But better than I thought it would be.”
Roo looked around. “There’s no hut, no kiln, no Gert, no nothing.”
Erik said, “And what are these?” He pointed to the two blankets and bundles on the ground.
“Someone was taking great pains to see we don’t freeze in the night, and they’ve given us clean clothing.”
Erik suddenly looked at the clothing he was wearing, and then pulled away his tunic and sniffed. “I should smell like a horse after a day in the field, but I don’t. And this shirt feels clean.”
Roo examined his own clothing. “You don’t suppose old Gert gave us a bath?” He found fear rising up rather than humor.
Erik shook his head. “I don’t know what to think.” Then he glanced around. “It’s about nine of the clock from the angle of the sun, so this day is a quarter over. We’d better get moving again; I don’t know why the soldiers didn’t find us in the hut, but they’ll come back and check again, I’m certain.”
“Check your bundle,” said Roo. “See what’s in it.”
Erik did as he was bidden and found his was packed much the same as Roo’s: fresh shirt and trousers, underdrawers, and stockings. Also there was a small loaf of hard bread, and a note.
He unrolled the tiny parchment and read aloud: “You lads are safe for the time being. Make straight for Krondor and Barret’s Coffee Shop, Erik. You are now in our debt, Gert’s and mine. Miranda.”
Roo shook his head. “Running from the King’s justice and now we’re in debt to a pair of witches.”
“Witches?”
“What else do you think?” said Roo, looking as if a demon were about to leap up from the earth and snatch him to hell. He glanced around, the color gone from his face. “Look at that! That’s the same low ridge we had to come down to reach the hut! There was a hut, and a kiln—now there’s no sign that anyone has ever been here.” He walked over to where the kiln had been. “There’s no soot, no ashes. Even if you moved the bloody damn thing, you couldn’t clean up this much.” He got down on one knee. “There’s got to be something!” His voice was growing loud, as if he was becoming angry at discovering the hut and kiln missing. “Damn it, Erik! Someone stripped us, bathed us, cleaned our clothing, and dressed us again, and we never woke up. What else could it be but magic!” He rose and went over to Erik. He put his hands on his friend’s arms, and said, “We’re trapped by a debt to two evil black witches.” His voice continued to get louder, and Erik realized anger was quickly turning into hysteria.
“Easy,” said Erik as he placed his hands on Roo’s shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. Moving to where the kiln had been, he looked quickly around. “There’s nothing left to show we were ever here, that’s for certain.” He rubbed his chin. “Gert was no beauty, but I don’t remember anything about her that smacked of evil, Roo.”