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.Waln lay buried in the hay, wondering where he was, how far he had come, how intent the pursuit might be, and a dozenother things, each thought chasing the other in a jolting circle, like a cat chasing its tail.He must have drifted off to sleep again, for when hunger awakened him he discovered that darkness had again fallen.Histhoughts were clearer now, but a trace of fever-induced whimsy made him feel rather like a mouse as he tunneled his way tothe surface.The night proved to be clear and crisp.The upper layer of hay snapped with frost as he pushed through it.There was novisible moon, but his eyes were already adjusted to what faint light there was.His haystack stood against the side of a small animal shelter.The shelter was empty now, but smooth, rounded droppingssuggested that goats had been kept here.That would explain the condition of the hay, as well as the lack of concern for itskeeping.Goats were notorious for eating anything.At that moment, Waln rather wished he were a goat.His meal with Lady Melina had been the night before and hisexcursions had burnt what little he hadn't purged from his system as a candle flame burns a moth.Although the islandercarried extra flesh on his big frame flesh his body was doubtless consuming even now his stomach clamored its emptiness,accustomed to being filled three or four times a day whether it needed to be or not.After assuring himself that he was alone, Waln eased himself from the haystack.He noted with idle curiosity that he waswearing his boots again.He didn't recall putting them on.The muddy pieces of waistcoat were stuffed behind his belt.Fever mounting again as he exerted himself, Waln was pleased to find that his unconscious self was such an organized andefficient type of person.He rather wished he could just go away again and let that other self take over.However, not knowingjust how to call up that other self, he decided he'd better not chance it.He might just fall asleep in the snow and freeze.There was a hut off to one side of the goat pen.Its door was open, swinging at a drunken angle from the upper pair of aset of leather hinges.The lower hinge was broken or had been eaten by mice or rats.Waln picked his way over to the hut.He realized that he was tiptoeing a ridiculous thing as he was moving across openground.He made an effort to stop himself, but as soon as he stopped he realized he was tiptoeing again doubtless someattempt on the part of his hidden self to be stealthy.The hut proved to be empty.The thin dusting of snow across the floor showed only rodent tracks tiny, eyelash-finetraceries for the feet and a long, narrow track for the tail.These converged around a large hunk of bread, apparently brokenfrom a larger loaf and abandoned with the carelessness of plenty where it had fallen near the open door.With no thought for the dirt or gnaw marks on the bread, Waln scooped up the bread and shoved it into his mouth.As he chewed, feeling the grit against his teeth, he squatted down on the floor, blotting up loose crumbs with the tip of one finger.These he stuffed in after the bread, disregarding the fact that he shoved in more dirt than bread.He wished he'd not scared themouse away, his mouth watering at the image of that warm mouthful.Clarity of thought returned just enough to make Waln feel revolted at this descent into bestiality, and with that revulsioncame an awareness of his predicament.The bread while not precisely fresh had not been completely stale.Nor was it the heavy black bread one would expecta goatherd to drop.This bread had been a pale honey-brown in color, the color of the rolls that had graced the dinner table hehad shared the night before with Lady Melina.Therefore, the person who had dropped it had quite possibly been hunting for Waln.Perhaps the searcher had overlookedthe haystack because both the hut and goat shed were nearer and were so much more obvious hiding places.The same latesnow that had frozen the top of the haystack would have disguised any prints Waln would have left especially if the searcherhad come by when the light was poor.Waln realized with a sudden thrill of fear how fortunate he had been and that he dare not stay here a moment longer.Thehaystack might not escape a second inspection.He did remain long enough to thoroughly search the hut, hoping to find some provision hidden away against need.However, though he searched with all the cunning he'd gained in his streetwise youth, he went unrewarded.Satisfying his belly with great handfuls of the cleanest snow he could find, Baron Waln Endbrook trudged out into thedarkness.When the wind began to blow and snow to fall, all he felt was gratitude at the certainty that his trail would becovered.His mind centered itself on a dream of fire, a reddish-orange glow that gradually resolved itself into the memory of a gem-stone glimmering with citrine fire upon the forehead of a little girl.Earl Kestrel listened with very few interruptions while Doc presented their case.Firekeeper wondered if this was becauseDoc was his cousin.Perhaps the fact that Derian wore his counselor's ring, the ruby in it glinting in the morning sunlight, had also reminded theearl that one of them had been considered wise enough to advise a king.Then again, perhaps Norvin Norwood had merelygrown so accustomed to strange happenings that he no longer questioned them.Firekeeper didn't know which was true, but she enjoyed trying to puzzle out the intricacies of human motivations as shemight a game trail
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