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Rochadan breathed a sigh of relief as Sallie settled herself into Andhun's lap and the boy began another cycle of his mother's lullaby. He watched affectionately as she slid her thumb back into her mouth and closed her eyes, lowering long eyelashes that were still wet from angry tears and leaning comfortably into the other child's chest. She was usually such a sweet-tempered little thing that these occasional tantrums took him completely by surprise. To be perfectly honest, they scared him a bit, not because he was afraid of a three-year-old's temper, but more because he always felt so helpless to soothe her. It had been so fortunate that Andhun had come upon them when he did, armed with his gentle nature and his mother's wonderful lullaby. Squatting down beside the two children, Rochadan sighed and raised a hand to massage the lines of stress out of his forehead. So fortunate.
As the song came to an end again, Sallie opened her eyes and looked soberly up into Andhun's face. After a moment, she took her thumb out of her mouth and pointed at one of the boy's many burns with a little pink forefinger.
"You got a owie," she said gravely.
Andhun nodded. "Yes," he answered with equal solemnity. "I've got lots of owies."
"Do they hurt?"
Andhun nodded again. "Yes. Sometimes," he answered softly.
Rochadan tensed as Sallie's lower lip began to tremble. He could tell that she liked Andhun a great deal and was worried that she might, in her current frame of mind, become a little too empathetic to the poor boy's many "owies." He readied himself to sweep in and take control again if the tears returned, but then relaxed as Sallie pointed calmly to her shoe.
"I got a owie, too," she said to Andhun. "On my foot."
At a concerned glance from Andhun, Rochadan gave his head a brief shake. "No, she's fine," he interjected quietly. "She just has a little limp," he added. "She's always had it."
Andhun's lips formed a silent, "oh." He looked back down at the little girl. "I limp, too," he said simply. Sallie said nothing but smiled sweetly up at her new friend with an expression of angelic adulation.
Rochadan could tell that she was pleased to have her limp in common with the boy. Oddly, it seemed to ratchet Andhun up a few notches in her eyes. He smiled. It could turn out to be a very good thing for her to have Andhun around. He was just going to comment on it when the horse housed in the stall Andhun had chosen to lean up against arched his glossy neck over the top of the stall door and began to nuzzle the top of the boy's head. Startled, Andhun pulled away and looked nervously up at the animal. It was a beautiful dark brown gelding with a black face and mane.
Sallie giggled. "That's my papa's horse," she told Andhun. "Alybar."
"Alydar," corrected Rochadan. "Don't worry. He's a friendly fellow... just wanted to say hello." Looking up at Alydar, Rochadan noticed a stray bridle hanging from a nail just to side of the stall door. Out of habit, he rose and took it back to where it belonged in the small tack room just to the right of the front entrance to the stable. On his way back to the two children, however, he happened to glance down and notice a peculiar shadow under the door that led outside to the stableyard, or rather a lack of light there, as though someone or something had been placed against the outside of the door. Curious, he pulled the door open. To his surprise, a young woman toppled in nearly on top of his feet.
He looked down at her with an expression of bemused surprise. "Well, hello there," he greeted her pleasantly. "Is there anything in particular you were looking for?"
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