(eng) Lloyd Alexander - Westmark 01 by Westmark

Author:Westmark [Westmark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

14

"THERE'S A dead one." The boy held up his lantern and leaned over the side of the rowboat. "Pull hard, Sparrow."

The girl did as her brother asked. The craft bobbed alongside the stone steps leading from the embankment to the dock. The boy, Weasel, was small and as thin as his namesake. Sparrow, a few years older and the stronger, took charge of the rowing on their nightly ventures into the port.

The man lay on his belly, half in, half out of the water. His legs swung gently in the tide.

Sparrow shipped her oars. "Drowned, is he?"

Weasel threw a line around the iron stanchion and hopped out of the boat. He squatted by the body but could not turn it. Sparrow came to help. They saw the knife hilt.

"A brawl." Weasel nodded his head in solemn professional judgment. He tugged until the weapon came free of the breast. "It's a good blade."

He put the knife in his belt. Sparrow had been deftly going through the pockets. She had no fear of the dead. On the other hand, she was terrified of spiders.

The jacket and canvas slops yielded nothing. She made a face and shrugged her shoulders. The lantern light showed a bulky form a few steps higher. Sparrow got to her feet. The boy, too, noticed the figure and clambered after his sister.

"I knew it was a brawl," Weasel declared with satisfaction.

This man was white-haired and blunt-featured. One sleeve, bloodsoaked, had been slashed up the arm. The girl rummaged in the pockets. This time she whistled. She had discovered a purse of coins, and something else: The man was alive. Weasel crouched beside her, greatly interested. They had never found a live one.

"What shall we do with him, Sparrow?"

The girl chewed her lower lip. She was a sharpfaced creature, more vixen than bird. The man was looking at her, muttering something she could not make out.

She bent closer, listening, then glanced at Weasel. "I don't know what he's saying, but I don't think he wants to stay here."

"I shouldn't wonder," said Weasel

Like her brother, Sparrow wore a garment of sacking. Her one vanity was the kerchief about her head. She undid it and awkwardly bound up the man's arm. Her patient groaned and made a feeble gesture.

"What's he after?" Until then, Weasel had given all his attention to the unusual find. Now, at the edge of the circle of light, he glimpsed a leather case. He scuttled over and picked it up. "This?"

Weasel snapped open the catch and peered inside. "Knives and things. They'll be worth something."

Sparrow had finished her . work and had come to her decision. "We'll keep him."

"What will Keller say?"

"He'll be glad. It's company for him, isn't it?"

The two set about hauling the man down the steps and aboard the boat. He was conscious enough to make some small effort to help. Otherwise, his salvagers would have had to leave their prize where they found it. Weasel cast off the line. Sparrow labored to get the craft under way before the tide turned against her.

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