The colors of the gaudy wagon were muted by the cool grey morning light that was spreading over Stone Crossing. Bone sat in the driver’s box folding a blanket on the seat beside him. Dirken sprawled on the flatbed snoring.
Brown John stood a short way off under an apple tree, his hands on Robin’s shoulders, and his lively eyes looking cheerily into hers. Her forlorn little face blinked back. He cupped her cheeks fondly in his gentle hands, rubbing away the moisture with his thumbs, and said, “You’ve done well, child. And I will hear no more words of defeat and failure from your lovely mouth. All that was asked of you was to deliver a few words, and you did that and more. A great deal more. You led him into battle against the Kitzakks, you saved his life. And he showed you his secret dwelling place, allowed you to leave with no more guarantee of silence than a small promise. These are truly extraordinary achievements, and totally unexpected.”
“Thank you, Brown John,” she murmured. “It’s kind of you to put it that way.”
“Kindness, dear child, has nothing to do with it.” He wagged a pedantic finger at her nose. “I merely speak the truth. And the most promising thing of all is that he sent you to me with a request for weapons and armor.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Because it reveals many things. Not only that he now understands the strength of the Kitzakks and their metal, but that he begins to understand himself. Believe me, Robin Lakehair, the stage is now set. His time is at hand. Soon, very soon now, he will be more than eager to deal with me in order to assure his superiority over other men.”
He laughed out loud, hugged her and it brought a smile to her cheeks. “Go now,” he said. “Bone and Dirken will see you home so you can get a well-deserved rest.”
She nodded and started for the wagon, but shyly turned back and kissed him on the cheek. Then she scurried to the wagon, climbed up and sat down beside Bone. The big man rose up proudly beside her with a grin on his face big enough to carpet a castle, then flicked his whip, and the wagon rolled forward.
As the wagon crested the top of Stone Crossing, the sun’s rays spilled over the horizon and the Grillard wagon blossomed in all its scarlet, pink and orange glory.