Valcon
Valcon pulled a knit cap low to hide his
hair and wrapped a scarf so his mouth and nose were covered. He opened the door of the stone house and
peered across the barren garden. Only a
skim of snow lay on the ground. The
weather had been strange this winter.
The heavy snowfall that had aided his friends’ escape had melted. Since that day only flurries had fallen. He’d heard the farms in the northern section
of the princedom had experienced one storm after another. The bitter cold made him shiver. Leaving the warmth of the house hadn’t been
his idea. Svana’s begging to visit Cook
for sweets had finally pushed him to the door.
He checked to see the little girl was
bundled before he lifted the basket of fruit and vegetables that had been
gleaned from the growing house this morning.
Svana danced outside ahead of him.
“Hurry, Valcon.” She used her heavy stick as a sword. Finchon and Larkea waited near the wall. Larkea pressed the stones in the proper sequence
and a segment of the wall slid inward.
“Do you have the list?” Valcon asked.
“In my head,” Larkea said.
“Make sure to take care when you
return.” Valcon followed the three
children into the lane. “We don’t want
anyone to suspect the wall isn’t part of the city’s enclosure. Make your purchases and hurry back.”
Finchon nodded. “I’ll be careful.” He turned to Larkea. “So will she.”
Larkea watched the gate close. “Keep an eye out for guards. They seem to favor Cook’s tavern.”
“Do you blame them?” Valcon asked.
Finchon laughed. “If I could I would eat there every day.”
Svana tugged on Valcon’s hand. “Come on.”
Larkea made a face. “You need to teach her caution. Ever since you and Bran fixed her foot, she
doesn’t listen.”
“And you’re so obedient.” Finchon danced away from her raised fist.
Valcon hated the heat of anger he heard in
Larkea’s voice and saw in her eyes. How
could she be envious of the little girl?
The mite was their joy. Lately
Larkea had been moody, especially since he and Genira had been rescued from the
palisades and their friends had left.
“We’ll be fine,” Valcon said.
“The most we have to worry about is the pack of hounds that hang about
the alley. They’re becoming bolder. I’ll beg some meat scraps or bones from Cook
and toss them into the pack.”
Larkea laughed. “Clever.”
She ran after Finchon. “See you.”
When Valcon and Svana reached the alley
leading to the rear door of the tavern, he and the little girl waved to the
others. Svana raced to the door of the
tavern and knocked. Just as the door opened,
Valcon reached the stoop and took her hand.
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