the enveloping wetness. Ben imparted a thought to Ned. "D'you think they'll still be searching
for survivors from the Marie?"
The black Labrador shook his head. "Well, there's been no sign of anybody since dawn. We're
alone out here. Those villagers will be back home now and the sailors back aboard their ships.
We must get something to eat, Ben—a couple of sour apples and two turnips are all we've had
since we left the coast."
Blowing rainwater from the tip of his nose, Ben agreed. "Aye, my stomach's been growling
worse than you, mate. See up ahead there, top of that slope a few fields away? It looks like
woodland to me. Shall we give it a try?"
Ned raised his head and squinted into the rain. "Why not? At least we'll get some decent
shelter under the trees. I'm not fond of this country, it's too quiet altogether. Come on, all
we're doing is getting wetter sitting here."
The sound of water squelching and splashing from the grass and earth beneath their feet was
muffled by the downfall as they ran across the eerily silent landscape. It was tough going for
tired limbs as they made their way uphill. Breathless and saturated, Ben and Ned finally
arrived beneath the shelter of the trees on a thickly wooded hilltop. A variety of white beam,
juneberry, elm, beech and various conifers grew in profusion to provide a fairly dry covering
overhead. The two friends sat with their backs against a broad elm on the fringe, gazing out
over the dismal countryside.
A shudder passed through Ben as he rubbed his hands up and down both arms. "Huh, what I
wouldn't give for a cheery old fire, that rain has chilled my bones!"
Ned settled down, chin on paws. "A good old fire, eh? I'll let you know if I come across one.
Maybe it'll brighten up by mid-noon and we'll take a proper look around. Meanwhile, I'm
tired. Let's take a nap for an hour or two."
Ben lay down by the dog's side. As they watched the rain drifting down out in the open,
weariness overcame the pair, and, eyelids drooping, they dropped into slumber.
Ben was not aware of how long he had slept. He woke shivering to the feel of Ned's rough
tongue licking his hand. It was almost dark.
The boy complained, rubbing his eyes. "What did you wake me for, mate? I was having a nice
sleep there. Nice but cold. Brrrr!"
The Labrador's mental message reached him. "That good old fire you were going on about, it's
not too far from here."
Ben stood up, peering into the thick, darkening woodlands. "Where? I can't see it."
Ned pointed with his nose, like a hunting dog. "Over that way somewhere. I can't see it either,
but I can smell it. Let's go easy now, we don't know what sort of person lit the fire. Follow
me, but quietly, Ben, quietly."
Ben trailed in his dog's path, through bush and foliage and round the gnarled trunks of big,
ancient trees. Ned halted after a while, sheltering himself behind an oak. "There it is—told
you I could smell fire."
Ben stood on tiptoe to get a clear view of the distant light. He could make out a small pedlar's
cart, its shafts resting on the ground in a small clearing. The two friends crept forward until
both could see properly. A man was sleeping by the fire, and there was no sign of a horse or
donkey to pull the cart. A girl in her midteens was sitting chained to a cartwheel, a scarf
bound round her mouth as a gag.
Unwittingly, Ben trod on a dry twig. It snapped underfoot. The man, a big fat fellow, grunted
in his sleep and rolled over onto his back. He began snoring loudly, but the girl saw them. She
locked eyes with Ben.
The boy held a finger to his lips, hearing Ned's thought. "Not much use telling her to be quiet
—she's got no choice with that gag on. Look, her eyes are moving up and down. She's
nodding toward something. Let's get a bit closer!"
A wooden club with a leather-bound handle lay close by the sleeping man. Ben knew
immediately that the girl's eyes were signalling him to use the club on the man. He looked at
Ned. "What shall we do?"
The dog's thoughts were not in the least hesitant. "That's a pretty girl the fat rogue's keeping
prisoner. Wallop him with the club, Ben. That way we'll be able to free her, and he'll get a
sound night's sleep. Go on!"
Bent almost double, the boy inched forward into the firelight. The girl was urging him on,
but he lifted the club and gave the fellow's head a sharp rap. The man sat bolt upright, one
hand rubbing his head, the other shooting out to grab the boy's leg as he roared angrily. "You
little murderer, what the h—"
Ben swung the club overarm, closing his eyes as he heard the loud bonk it made on the man's
skull. Ned trotted into the firelight, nodding his approval. "That's more like it, mate. Get that
gag out of the maid's mouth!"
Throwing down the club, Ben swiftly knelt and undid the scarf. The girl was indeed pretty—
almond-skinned, doe-eyed and slender with a mass of black curls framing her face. Ben was
taken aback by the vehemence in her voice.
"That lard barrel has the key to these shackles on a string around his neck. Get them here
before he wakes up. Quick!"
Lifting the man's head, Ben pulled the string over it and took the key, then undid the lock that
held her wrists chained to the metal wheel rim. No sooner was she free than the girl bounded
over, grabbed the club and whacked it down hard twice on the unconscious man's ankle. He
moaned softly. She raised the club high, her voice harsh.
"Here, I'll give you something to whine about!"
Ben caught her arm and wrenched the club from her. "What are you trying to do, kill him?"
Taking several long, burning branches from the fire, the girl bound them together like a torch.
"Hah! That'd be no bad thing, he deserves killin'. Let's get out of here!"
Grabbing a small bag from the cart, she tossed it to Ben. "Here, you carry the food!"
Ned ran hard on her heels, exchanging thoughts. "She's a fierce one, mate, I wouldn't like to
get on the wrong side of her. See the way she swung that club!"
"Maybe she did it with good reason, Ned. Anyhow, at least we've got food and the means to
make a fire. I wish she'd slow down. Whew! That girl can certainly run!"
It was quite a while before the girl stopped running. She chose a spot deep in the woods,
surrounded by trees and backed by an outcropping of several tall rocks. "Get wood for a fire
before this torch burns down to nothing!"
Wordlessly, Ben and Ned foraged around for dry wood. As she built the fire, the girl took the
branches of dead pine that Ned was carrying in his mouth.
She beckoned Ben to sit beside her and stroked Ned. "This is a good clever dog, I like him.
What's his name?"
The boy began opening the bag she had taken from the cart. "I'm Ben, and he's called Ned.
What's your name?"
She snatched the bag from him. "Karayna, but they call me Karay." She took a small stale loaf
of wheat bread from the bag. Breaking it into three equal pieces, she handed one to Ben,
threw the other to Ned, and began tearing at her own portion.
Ben watched her face in the firelight—she was indeed very nice-looking. "You were pretty
hard on the man, Karay. W
hy?"
She rubbed at her wrist where the chain had chafed it. "Huh, that miserable gut bucket! We
were in prison together, at Leon, but we broke out and stole the cart. Since then he's used me
like a horse, making me pull the cart and get his food for him. He chained me to the cart every
night, said he was going to sell me in the mountains on the Spanish border. Don't worry about
that fat worm anymore—he won't find it so easy to get along with a broken ankle. Nobody
treats me like that and gets away with it!"
Ben chewed on the hard bread thoughtfully. "What were you both doing in prison?"
Karay elbowed him smartly in the ribs. "That's no business of yours. But, if y'must know, I
was a singer and he was a clown. We went from town to town, entertaining on market days.
He'd mingle with the crowd while I sang, and I'd do the same when he was doing his act."
Ben frowned. "Mingle with the crowd. What for?"
She smiled scornfully at him. "To pick pockets and purses, of course. I'm good at it, you see.
'Twas that fat greasy ass who got us caught, not me. Anyhow, what are you and your dog
doing wandering this forest?"
Ben stared into the fire. "Oh, nothing really, just wandering."
Karay laughed. "Hahaha, who d'ye think you're tryin' to fool? I bet you two are the ones those
sailors and townsfolk were searching for. Came off that pirate ship the navy sunk. I heard
them talking in the jailhouse."
Ben felt a flash of resentment toward the outspoken girl. "No, we didn't, and anyhow, I don't
want to talk about it!"
Karay pouted her lips and tossed her hair. "And I don't want to hear about it, so there!"
Her gesture so amused Ben that he mimicked it. "Huh, and I'm not so sure I should be keeping
company with a thief. So there!"
Instinctively they both burst out laughing. After that the atmosphere was a lot more friendly.
Ned joined them both by the fire. Stroking the dog's silky ears, Karay watched him blink
appreciatively. "I wish I had a dog like good old Neddy," the girl mused.
Ned immediately bristled, contacting Ben. "Tell her!"
He stalked off to the opposite side of the fire and lay in the shadows while Ben explained to
Karay. "He doesn't like being called Neddy, it makes him sound like a worn-out old nag. He
much prefers Ned."
The girl stared into Ben's clouded blue eyes. "How d'you know?"
Ben shrugged. "He told me."
She chuckled. "I suppose you two talk together a lot, eh?"
The boy stirred the fire with a branch. "When friends are together for a long time, they get to
know each other."
Karay stared into the flickering flames. "It must be nice to be like that. I've never known
anybody long enough to be really friendly with—parents, family or companions. D'you
suppose we'll get to know each other in that sort of way?"
Suddenly Ben felt a pang of pity, both for himself and for Karay. He could see her out of the
corner of his eye, staring into the fire. A barefoot girl clad in a long, tattered red dress with an
old black shawl thrown about her shoulders. Ben knew that someday he and Ned would have
to walk away and leave, never again to see her. Or to let her see him, an eternal boy, never
growing old.
He was about to concoct an answer that would not hurt her feelings when Ned's voice entered
his mind. "Stay still, Ben, don't look around or bat an eyelid. We're being watched!"
Ben did as the dog bid him, though his mind was racing. "Who is it, Ned? Is there more than
one of them? I've still got this branch in my hand to poke the fire. Are they armed? Can you
see them?"
Ned's mental reply came back. "I think there's only one. He's just peeping round the corner of
the rocks behind you both. I've shuffled back into the bushes, so he doesn't know I'm here.
Now, I'm going to circle behind him. The moment he makes a move I'll jump on his back and
knock him down. Be ready with that branch, Ben, and lay him out if he gets rough. Here
goes!"
Unaware of what was going on, Karay sat back against the rock. Pulling her shawl close, she
began drifting into a doze. Ben's grip tightened on the branch as he tried not to look alert.
Slight crackling from the fire was the only sound in the still night as seconds passed like
hours. Ben tried letting his eyelids droop, acting as a decoy, though his whole body was
tensed like a steel spring.
Suddenly a slender-built young fellow, carrying a battered leather satchel over one shoulder,
stepped from behind the rocks. He started to speak.
"I saw your fire— oof!"
Springing pantherlike from the top of a rock, Ned landed on the intruder, knocking him
facedown. Ben leapt up but was pushed aside as Karay bounded past him. The girl jumped
with both feet on the newcomer's back, forcing the breath from him in a whoosh as Ned
nipped to one side, avoiding her feet.
She knelt on her victim's shoulderblades, grabbed a knife from the back of his belt and seized
him by the hair. Tugging his head back savagely, the girl pressed the knife blade against his
throat, growling like a tigress.
"Be still or I'll cut your throat!"
Ben guessed the intruder was about his own age. His eyes were wide with fear, staring straight
at Ben, who hurried over and grabbed Karay's wrist. "Stop, don't hurt him!"
The girl frowned at him. "Why not? He was carrying a knife—maybe he was goin' to rob or
murder us!"
Ben forced her hand to the ground and placed his foot on the knife blade. "He doesn't look in
a position to rob or murder anyone at the moment, thanks to you. Now then, you robbing
murderer, what's your name?"
"Dominic," the captive managed to gasp as he tried to regain his breath. "I mean you no harm,
honest— uurrgh!"
Karay dragged his head further back, hissing viciously into his ear. "Then why were you
sneaking around, spyin' on us an' carryin' a knife, eh?"
Ben had put up with enough of the girl's barbaric behaviour. He passed a swift thought to
Ned. "Settle her, mate, before she breaks that poor fellow's neck!"
The black Labrador rushed her, pushing Karay off the young man with a powerful thrust of
his forepaws. Ben retrieved the knife and stowed it in his belt, then held out his hand to the
stranger named Dominic. "Up you come, mate!"
He held out his other hand to the girl. "You too, Karay. I hardly think Dominic is a murderer
or a thief—he looks friendly enough to me."
Karay gave Ned a frosty glare as she dusted herself down. "Pushing me over like that, and I
thought you were my friend!"
They went back to the fire and sat down together, though it took some time for Karay to
regain both temper and dignity. Dominic was not one whom anybody could take a dislike to,
for he had a gentle manner, a soft voice and a winning smile. Ned sat with his head on
Dominic's knee, gazing up at him as he communicated with Ben. "I like Dominic, he looks
like a real pal!"
Karay was still doubtful. She questioned him closely. "What brings you to this part of the
woods? Where are you bound?"
He pointed east. "I was going to the fair at Veron to see if I could earn some money."
"I can always make money at country fairs," bragged Karay.
Ben's voice carried a note of sternness. "Not by stealing, I hope. You'd en
d up in prison,
probably we would, too."
The girl began to get huffy again. "I've no need to steal, if it's a good fair—people will pay to
hear me sing. I'm a great singer." She changed the subject by turning back to Dominic. "How
d'you earn your living? By selling things?"
For answer, Dominic opened his worn leather satchel. He produced charcoals, chalks, a
slender steel file with a broken tip and some pieces of slate. "I make faces."
Ben's interest quickened. "You mean you're an artist? I've never met an artist. Who taught
you, did you attend a school?"
Dominic was already at work, glancing up and down at Ned as he scraped away at a piece of
slate with the broken file. He talked as he sketched. "Nobody ever taught me, I was born with
the skill to draw. I come from Sabada in Spain, but I was banished from there when I was
very young. Hmm, this is an interesting dog."
Ned's thought reached Ben. "I'll say I'm interesting—noble and handsome, too. Told you I
liked Dominic—"
Ben interrupted the dog's thought. "Why were you banished?"
Dominic concentrated on his portrait as he answered. "They were ignorant people, but sooner
or later I am driven from anyplace I go. People think I am a magician, and they get scared—I
don't blame them. My pictures are like no others. When I draw the likeness of anybody, man,
woman or child, the truth is in my picture. I cannot help it—good, evil, deceit, envy, love,
tenderness or cruelty. All of these things show up in my work, it is as if I can see into the very
heart and soul of those whom I sketch. Ah, here you are, Ned, this is you, honest, noble,
handsome and above all, faithful. Though there is something else behind those wonderful eyes
that I cannot quite capture. Look!"
Ben, Ned and Karay all gazed at the finished sketch. It was everything Dominic said it would
be. Ned placed a paw on the artist's knee as he communicated with Ben. "This is absolutely
brilliant! It's as if I'm looking at myself in a still pool. It's me to the life!"
Ben agreed, speaking out loud to the others. "This is truly remarkable! You have a great
talent, Dominic!"
Karay chimed in, "Aye, you're pretty good. Will you draw me?"
Dominic took out a piece of flat, dried aspen bark and began sketching on it with a charcoal