“You shook them out of your satchel just now,” Lleu said. “Didn’t you? A handful of black feathers, like snowflakes of shadow, they fluttered from your fingers and scattered across the street—”
“Ai, God help you, Lleu,” I whispered. I stood a moment considering whether he had any idea of what was happening. Then I bent and reached down as though picking up some small thing near my boot, and held my hand before his face. “A feather like this one?”
“There’s nothing there,” Lleu said.
“Are you sure?” I slowly turned my hand.
His face betrayed him. “What did you see?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Lleu gasped quietly. “You’re not—holding anything.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not. But you saw something.”
We both stood still and silent. Lleu looked at the white doves in the eaves of the building across the street, then closed his eyes with a small cry and quickly turned his face away.
“Come, let’s eat here,” I said. “You must rest, Lleu. You will destroy yourself if you go on like this.”
Lleu said carefully, “Suppose the folk in this place have heard that I have been abducted?”
“That is a risk hatligI take.”
“And if I cry to them for sanctuary?”
“Will you?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “This is our contest now, yours and mine alone, I will not force my father’s people to choose between us.”
We stepped inside the small, dark shop. There were a dozen or so men there, shepherds and farmers from the nearby moors, and a few townsmen. I asked for bowls of porridge and mugs of warm ale for myself and Lleu, and the other patrons made room for us on one of the benches. Lleu looked up from his food to scan the faces around him, as though one might prove to be compassionate or even familiar; but he suddenly sank his face against his forearm, leaning on the table, his shoulders shaking. “Sit up, you little idiot,” I said in his ear, helping him to straighten. “What’s the matter?”
“I thought one of the men was horned with stag’s antlers, like the lord of death and the Wild Hunt,” Lleu whispered despairingly. “Oh, God, I am so tired.” When he finally gathered the courage to pick up his mug his hands shook so much that he spilled a good deal on the table. The men sitting near threw him curious glances, but decently looked away when they saw me gently take the cup from Lleu’s hands and wipe the table.
When I went to pay for our meal the keeper of the hostel remarked quietly to me, “It’s a bad time to travel far in open country. Is the boy simple?”
Lleu heard, and flung up his head in defiance, but he said nothing. I answered, “He’s not simple. A bit of a fool, perhaps.” I beckoned Lleu with a nod of my head. “He could shape entertainment in a king’s court, couldn’t you, little one?” I said. “Give them the performance we had at Midwinter’s.”
“You dare tempt me!” Lleu said aloud. He rose to stand before me and handed his bow and quiver to one of the patrons. Then in spite of his exhaustion, in spite of the tricks his eyes were playing him, in the small space between a table and a screen of woven rush he executed two fast, furious handsprings, forward and backward. Afterward he clung to the nearest table for support, blinking to clear his unreliable vision, as the astonished patrons burst into a roar of approval and admiration.
“Hey, Maria,” the proprietor called into the inner room, pushing aside the wattled reeds. “Bring the children out here. There’s an acrobat.”
A thin woman came out of the back room, dogged by two small boys; the elder looked about six years old, and the other, whose face and hands were covered with flour, was perhaps two years younger. The little one hid behind his mother’s skirts, peering out through his dusty fingers. “Come on, you lot,” the owner directed. “Stand back, clear some room.”
They dragged the tables and benches aside and waited expectantly, all gazing at Lleu. He glanced around the dark room, biting his lip; then suddenly he laughed and ran a hand through his hair, and spoke in his clear, authoritative voice:
“Under your green-girt beams I come
Neither to beg nor borrow;
Instead I play upon your hearth
To speed away all sorrow.
I am the sun lord’s namesake—
blte>Cry welcome to me here!<p>
Fortune I bring to field and fold
At the closing of the year.”
He looked at me and grinned and shrugged, while his small audience applauded and called encouragement. He turned a few more elegant handsprings, and the children watched with round eyes. Lleu suddenly knelt by the older boy and said, “Would you like to try?”
The child nodded. Lleu stood and led his pupil to the center of the floor, then holding the small hands flipped the boy head over heels two or three times, back and forth. The child laughed in delight, until at last Lleu set him down. “Such talent!” he praised. He ruffled the boy’s hair and added, “I could teach you to use a sword, as well. But perhaps that is enough for today.”
“One more stunt, then?” someone called. Lleu obligingly stood on one hand for a good half a minute before he flipped himself to his feet. Finally he breathed deeply and bowed, and moved to stand at my side.
The men cheered and applauded and thumped their fists against the tables, and the hostel’s keeper poured another drink for Lleu in payment for his performance.
“My thanks, master,” Lleu said as he reached for the cup, grinning still in exhausted pleasure; but instead of drinking he suddenly cried out, “Ah, no!” and threw the mug aside. He buried his face in my sleeve and mumbled incoherently, “The handle moved. I thought it was a snake.” I put my arm around his shoulders and stroked the back of his head.
The townsfolk turned their faces away, hushed, and the woman said to the children, “Now away with you.” They ran back into the other room.