“No,” Orval said firmly.
“No?” Roth asked, shocked.
“I want them to see us,” Orval glanced at Roth. “I want to look…harmless. Not vulnerable, mind.” He pointed with his chin at the swords beside Roth. “But not a threat.”
“Confusion to our enemies?” Roth asked.
“More like curiosity,” Orval said. “They know even less about us than what we know about them. We have limited ability to seek them out, so I need them to come to us.”
“You hope not in the night, with daggers out.”
“I hope that instead of attacking us outright, they will want answers.” Orval said. “So it’s a good sign that they are watching.”
Roth gave him a long, steady look, then nodded. “You’ve brought us this far,” he said grudgingly. “But time is against us,” he added, brushing his hair back off his forehead. “We’ve food for another, what, five days?”
“I know,” Orval said.
Yfin emerged from the gatehouse and headed toward them, full bucket in one hand, dipper in the other.
“The lad seems good with a sword.” Orval said.
Roth nodded. “He comes to it late, but he’s learning. He’s better with his knives. Learned that when he was on the streets.”
Orval raised an eyebrow and Roth lowered his voice and answered the unspoken question. “He was running with other children, all orphaned by the Sweat, for a long time, Finally King Xywellan had the guards round them up and put them to work.”
Yfin set the bucket at their feet and offered Roth the dipper. “Did ya see?” he asked Orval, wiping his forehead with his hand. “I almost scored on him.”
“Almost,” Roth snorted, but Yfin’s grin was infectious. Orval grinned back at him, sharing his delight.
“Good for you,” he said as Roth offered him the dipper. Orval set his book aside and drank deep of the cold, sweet water.
“What ya reading?” Yfin asked.
“TheEpic of Xyson,” Orval said, and waited for the usual eye-roll and exclamation of disdain. Yfin just cocked his head.
“What’s it about?” he asked.
“Didn’t you read it in—” Orval started but stopped when Roth nudged his knee. But Yfin wasn’t embarrassed at all; he just looked curious.
“It’s a very old, epic saga from a very long time ago, of a King that went to face his enemies.” Orval glanced at Roth. “You can read it, if you wish.”
“Can’t read,” Yfin shrugged. “Never learned.”
“Well,” Orval said. “We will have to see to that.”
Yfin gave him a skeptical look. “Reading is for smart folk.”
“Reading is for all folk,” Orval said. “It just takes practice.”
Yfin wrinkled his nose.
Roth spoke up. “If you’re going to insist he learns to read, then he should teach you some knife moves. Only fair.”
Yfin perked up.
Orval gave Roth an uneasy glance. Weaponsmasters in the past had tried to “teach the cripple to fight.” He wasn’t eager to deal with that again.
Roth shook his head, as if reading his mind. “Knives, not swords,” he said, and there was understanding in his eyes.
