one he usually reserved for bargaining sessions at town fairs.
Devin had been watching Erlein as unobtrusively as he could. When he could manage to focus on the troubadour's left hand, which never seemed to be still for more than an instant, there did seem to be an odd blurring, an occluding of air around it.
He had been waiting for Baerd to come back, now he waited no longer.
"You," he said, grinning at the returning hunter, "look like something that should be hunted yourself. You are going to terrify every civilized merchant we meet. You need a haircut before you are fit for society, my friend."
Baerd was very quick.
"I wouldn't talk, scamp," he shot back, tossing his prey over to Sandre by the wood gathered for the fire. "Not the way you look yourself. Or are you deliberately trying to be scruffy to scare away Alienor at Borso?"
Alessan laughed. So did Erlein.
"Nothing scares away Alienor," the troubadour chuckled. "And that one is exactly the right age for her."
"What 'right age'?" Alessan grinned slyly. "Over twelve and not yet buried suits her fine."
"I don't like that," Catriana said primly as the five men laughed.
"Sorry," Alessan said trying to keep a straight face, as she stepped in front of him, hands firmly on her hips.
"You are not at all sorry, but you should be!" Catriana snapped. "You know very well I don't like that kind of talk. How do you think it makes me look? And you only do it when you're idle. Do something useful. Cut Devin's hair. He does look awful, even worse than usual."
"Me?" Devin squeaked in protest. "My hair? What do you mean? It's Baerd, not me! What about him? He's the one who...”
"You all need a haircut," Catriana pronounced with a blunt finality that admitted of no rebuttal. Her cold scrutiny rested critically on Erlein's shaggy mane for a second. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it, in a brilliant miming of polite restraint. Erlein flushed. His right hand went uneasily to tug at his shoulder-length strands.
His left hand never stopped playing restlessly with some pebbles he'd gathered by the stream.
"I think," Devin said spitefully, "that you've just insulted our guest. That should make him feel properly welcome here."
"I didn't say a word, Devin," she flared.
"You didn't have to," Erlein said ruefully. "Those magnificent eyes were somewhat less than pleased with what they saw."
"My sister's eyes are almost never pleased with what they see," Alessan grunted. He was crouched beside one of the packs and after a moment's rummaging pulled out a scissors and a comb. "I am fairly obviously being ordered to duty here. There's half an hour of light left. Who's first victim?"
"Me," said Baerd quickly. "You aren't touching me in twilight, I'll tell you that much."
Erlein watched with interest as Alessan led Baerd over to a rock by the stream and proceeded, quite competently, in fact, to trim the other man's hair. Catriana went back to the horses, though not before offering Erlein another quick, enigmatic glance. Sandre stacked the wood for the fire and began skinning the rabbits and the grele, humming tunelessly to himself.≡本≡作≡品≡由≡≡網≡提≡供≡下≡載≡與≡在≡線≡閱≡讀≡
"More wood, lad," he said abruptly to Devin, without looking up. Which was perfect, of course.
Oh, Marian, Devin thought, a heady blend of excitement and pride racing through him. They are all so good.
"Later," was all he said, lounging casually on the ground. "We've got enough for now and I'm next with Alessan."
"No you're not," Alessan called from by the river, picking up Sandre's gambit. "Get the wood, Devin. There isn't enough light to do three of you. I'll cut yours tomorrow, and Erlein's now if he wants. Catriana will just have to endure you looking fearsome for one more night."
"As if a haircut's going to change that!" she called from the other side of the clearing. Erlein and Baerd laughed.
Grumbling, Devin stood up and ambled off toward the trees.
Behind him he heard Erlein's voice.
"I'd be grateful to you," the troubadour was say