I was surprised to find myself still in that little camp the next morning. The sun had woken me and it became clear in very short order that I had stayed for far longer than I had intended. It also became apparant that Escgel had been awake for some time for he was bent over the fire, this time stirring something in a pot hanging above the flames via the same spit he had used for the meat the night before. He turned around when he heard the rustle of the bedroll and beamed a warm smile at me.
"Ah, good morning there! I trust you had a good nights sleep."
I nodded mutely, still refusing to speak to him properly, and set about straightening myself out in preparation to leave. He arched one bushy white eyebrow at me.
"Are you not staying for breakfast, madam? It is the most important meal of the day, you know, and forgive me for saying but you look like you could do with many more!"
For the second time in as many days I found my resolve wavering at the thought of a hearty meal and thus far the man had been nice enough to me. Aside from his painful grabbing of my wrist the night before, he had been rather kind. He smiled brightly at my answering nod.
"Breakfast it is then!" he declared, turning back to add a little salt to what I could only assume was porridge. "Since you have now opted to share two meals with me, it is only right that I have a name to call you by. You have refused to tell me your own, so I think I shall have to choose one for you. I hereby decree you Cyre!"
I smiled for the first time at that. Free Will. I liked it. It suited me rather well, I thought. Clearly the old man thought so too or else he would not have picked it. He ladled out the porridge into two bowls. The metal one he gave to me, the other he had apparantly fashioned from a strip of bark taken from a nearby tree whilst I had been asleep. We broke our fast in silence at first, with me concentrating on emptying my bowl and him watching me thoughtfuly. About mid-way through the meal he paused in his eating.
"I have a proposition for you Cyre," he said, poking his spoon in my general direction. "You remember those men I mentioned yestereve? The ones I spoke of travelling with? Well, it seems to me that they may have use for a young girl like you."
I looked up at him distrustfuly. I might have been young but I was far from naieve. I had seen and heard a lot of things these past two years. I had learned swiftly that the wide world beyond the less-than-idyllic but vaguely sheltered bounds of my home life held within it bad men of a sinister purpose who had myriad uses for any girl. Some of those uses appeared to be of a rather unpleasant nature.
"I can promise you protection from harm," he continued, perhaps reading my mind but more likely trying to convince me. "And at least one good meal a day. Such a life can be hard and sometimes frugal, but I imagine it is safer and more bountiful than the one which brought you to my camp."
He had, I conceeded silently, a very good point. Hoard my pilfered pickings though I may, I often ran out of morsels before more could be acquired and had spent many of my months alone slowly wasting away through starvation. Plus, he knew how to make fires which would negate the risk of being caught on those cold winter nights that I had been forced to take shelter in a barn or old shed. Protection was also a prospect not to be sniffed at. I was small, swift and agile even then, but I was still only a child and had no means to fend off attackers of any description, especially ones with longer legs or faster speeds.
"'Oo're they n' what do I gotta do?" I demanded.
"'Who are they and what must I do?'" Escgel corrected me gently before explaining. "Well first off, you will have to stay with me, Cyre, and not run away in the night. I cannot look after you if you are not there to be taken care of."
I nodded swiftly, having gathered that much already.
"Who they are," he continued without pause. "Is an unfortunate band of dispossessed men seeking to make a living in a world that has disowned them via the medium of lightening the heavy carts of over-burdened merchants."
"Y'mean bandits," I interjected flatly, recieving a brief grin and a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Well, yes, but it sounds much worse that way. A flattering description of any given thing is impotant when trying to convince someone of something, Cyre, remember that!"
"Y'still int tole me what I gotta do," I pointed out, raising the spoon to my mouth to finish the last of my breakfast.
Once more, Escgel gently corrected my speech pattern before giving his explanation. He then filled my bowl again and I greedily devoured the contents as I thought over his proposition. It sounded easy enough and, for me, the rewards were certainly worth the hassle. Still, I was not about to simply give in without due consideration and definately not without making the old man wait. It was, however, a foregone conclusion that I would agree and as I finished my second helping I gave him my answer.
We struck camp in short order. There was little enough to pack and he carried it all anyway. he even walked with me back to my tree of the previous eve to retrieve my little bag containing my scant belongings before we headed toward where the rest of the men had chosen to rest.
Their camp was far larger and much less neat than that of Escgel. There were maybe twenty men in all, sprawled out in a large clearing. Even though the sun had long since risen many were still asleep and most of those awake appeared rather worse for wear. Given the stench of stale ale, I can only assume that they sported some terrible hangovers. I understood without asking why the old man had chosen to make his bed seperately to the others.
We recieved some odd looks or, more specifically, I did, but we were not stopped or questioned as the old man ambled along toward the larger tent set off to one side of the area and I tottered along on my skinny legs, almost running to keep up with him.
The man I was taken to, the leader of the motley band of men, was a huge fellow. He sported greasy black hair which had likely not seen a brush in many a year, a thick beard with old morsels of food caught in the wiry strands and yellow slab-like teeth. He was generally referred to as Hound and, asking about this name later I was told that he had a talent for sniffing out a good target but I privately considered that his title came more from his facial features than anything else - that and the almost fur-like hair growth along his arms, the back of his hands and goodness knows where else.
Escgel and I stood there before this stinking pile of wire wool, the old man tall and proud whilst I remained uncertainly next to his leg, unsure of what to do or say. Hound leered down at me which provoked a glare of defiance from me, much to the mans amusement. I noted during the conversation that whilst Hound's speech and grammar were far worse than my own, Escgel did not correct him as he would me. The talk wound on for a goodly while but in the end the old man managed to convince the leader that I could be of use to the group and thus did I enter into my new life as a brigand at the tender age of quite-probably seven.
