“I’d never tell him anything,” Gord said stoutly. “You and I are friends, and friends don’t rat on each other.”

“That’s for sure,” Bru said with a grin, but then his face grew very serious. “But his kind have ways of making you tell. They would use knives, hot coals, anything they could to hurt you so bad that you’d have to tell them to make the pain stop. Those are bad, evil folk. That’s why I have to clear out and never come back again. That’s why you have to lay low for a week, and thereafter be very careful for a long time.”

“Won’t I ever see you again?” Gord couldn’t believe this was happening. “Take me with you when you go away!”

The big man compressed his lips. “I’ve got to move fast and travel far. You couldn’t manage it, and you’d slow me down. Even alone, I’m not so sure they won’t find me. They, or their lot, are determined once they decide to go after someone and kill them.” He looked at the thin face and the sad eyes. “You don’t want me to get killed, and I don’t want that to happen to you, either. The best thing a pair of friends can do in this kind of situation is to part company, so that each of them has a chance to live.”

Gord could understand that. “You’re really a very smart man, Uncle Bru. You have to get away for sure, and I’ll be a mouse here, and nobody will see me at all.”

“Good. It’s all settled, then,” Bru said with a sigh of relief. He managed to get back to his feet, the lad assisting him in the effort. “Now I’m off to get this hole in me patched up. One thing more, old friend. Don’t ever go back to my place-never! I’ll not go there again, and you mustn’t do so, either. Don’t even go near it. They’ll watch it for weeks, maybe months.”

“But all of your things are there, Bru! You can’t just leave so much.”

“Things don’t matter a bit. You know that, don’t you? What good is money, what use finery, if you’re dead? None, of course. Let those devils have what’s there-we need to stay alive!”

Gord couldn’t restrain himself. “You must be a very important man to have those killers after you. Are you a prince in disguise? You have to tell me, please. You’re going away now, and who knows when you’ll come back? I have to know, Uncle Bru.”

That made the big man pause. “You’re right in a lot of ways, Gord. It isn’t likely you and I will be meeting again for a long, long time-if ever, to be honest, and I must be honest with a friend like you, boy. You’re right about those who seek me. Most folks don’t have murderers hounding them. You’re right about them thinking I’m Important. I’m not a prince, though, not anything even near it. I’m just a common man, sort of a soldier in a good cause. I have something those bad ones want to know, though. If they get it, then their side gets stronger and can do terrible things to good people. I must see that they fail, and then we have a chance of defeating their evil in the end.”

Gord hugged his friend around the waist, and Bru gave his narrow little shoulders a squeeze with his free arm. “I’ll think about you when you’re gone, Uncle Bru. You will beat the bad guys, I know it! No one’s as big and strong and tough as you are.”

“Luck be with you, lad,” the big man said. He gave Gord’s shoulders a last embrace, then went off.

Gord watched him walk away through misty eyes. Bru never faltered in his step, never looked back to where the small boy stood watching. In a minute there was no man in sight, but the waif stood as still as a post, staring along the street where his friend had been. The sense of loss was overwhelming. Far beyond his years in understanding, Gord realized that a part of his life, the only good part, had just gone. It was a permanent loss. From now on, it was Gord against the world, and he had no friend to help him, no teacher, no benefactor, no protector.

When he came back that evening, old Leena was furious that the boy bore nothing with him. None of her abuses or threats drew a response from him, so she finally seized him and shook the thin boy until his teeth rattled. At that a small leather bag dropped out of his smock.

“Eh! What’s this?” the crone said as she stooped over and snatched the thing up. It clinked in her hand, and her fingers shook in their haste to undo its tie and open it. “Holdin’ out on old Leena, were ya?!” She clouted Gord on the head with her fist, and the force of the clenched hand with the coin bag inside it knocked him flat.

He managed to lift his head and shake it a little so that the stars before his eyes went away. Gord saw Leena pouring a dozen silver coins back and forth between her hands, crooning “lovely nobles, pretty silver nobles” as she did so. Gord knew then that Bra had slipped the purse of coins into his blouse when they’d parted. Now Leena had them, but that didn’t matter-it was knowing that his friend had cared and given them to him that counted. Leena couldn’t take that away from him.

Chapter 7

How long had it been? Three or four years? Gord couldn’t remember exactly, nor could he recall much about his long-gone friend. In fact, the boy seldom even thought about Bru anymore. Staying alive was difficult enough, and it demanded all the attention he possessed. All he had going for him was his speed, agility, and cunning. Everyone he met was bigger, stronger, and deadlier than he was. Gord hated it. He hated to think that even his foster mother, Leena, was tougher than he was, but the facts were inescapable. An old alley cat, or even the rat it hunted, was better armed to fight than he was.

“Get out and find us some food,” Leena would command. If Gord didn’t hurry to obey, the old hag would thump him with a stick, and he could do nothing but take it and then run off to do as she told him. Gord didn’t dare to try surviving without Leena. Most folks in the slums thought she was a witch, so they shunned the two of them, and that kept Gord safe to some extent.

“Hey, ya little runt! Get the hells outta here!” Other children of the district always yelled something like that at him, and Gord got away as fast as possible. A couple of times he’d tried to stand up to bullies instead of running, but he was too small, too skinny, and too weak.

“Watch that dirty little guttersnipe there-the dark one!” Most adults he encountered said something like that, especially when they had something to protect. Being honest with himself, Gord had to admit that their attitude wasn’t surprising. The only reason he would even approach other people was if they had food or something small he could grab and run away with.

A friend? There was no such thing in Gord’s life, really. Leena used him, and Gord used the crone, too. He was ready to admit that to himself. Had he really ever had a friend? Bru was but a hazy memory, and Gord actually wondered if he had imagined the whole episode with the big, bearded man. It didn’t matter. Now he was getting older and more sure of himself.

He might be little, Gord told himself, but he could use his wits and his speed to show them all. He needed no one but Leena. Through no generosity on her part, she provided him with a safe haven. One day he’d grow bigger and stronger, and then he’d leave the nasty woman to fend for herself. Gord would have a weapon, a big knife or something like that. He’d be fast still, but also tall and strong. Then he’d show them all, and pity the bully who dared to call him a runt or a coward!

“You lazy little dogturd! Why are you sitting there making faces at nothing? Get out of here and bring back something good for Leena to eat!”

He got up quickly and went out. He considered hurling insults back at Leena, but why bother? He was hungry, too, and anyway, when he came back she’d remember and make him sorry for his brash words. Gord decided to take his gathering-pot and head over to the brewers’ area to get their leavings. The walk was a longish one, and there were many places to avoid, but the boy managed to get there and back to his part of the slums in two hours.