A few minutes later he tethered it under a tree and fetched blankets which he draped and fastened around its neck, back, and haunches to protect it from the night chill before shaking out some hay for it to eat. Obviously a considerate as well as a practical boy where horses were concerned, Declan thought, as the other began building a fire which the old man kindled with surprising speed.

Warmth and food was all he wanted, and Declan was telling himself again that there was no need for anyone to die, when suddenly he froze.

Voices. There were three, no four of them coming from the undergrowth midway between Declan's position and the tinkers' campfire. They were talking quietly, but his ears were good and he could hear every word they spoke. One voice sounded older, deep with authority and a hint of breathlessness that suggested that the speaker was large in girth. This speaker was making it plain that they, too, were waiting for the campfire to be fully alight so that the eyes of their victims would be too dazzled to see the attack out of the darkness until it was too late. Unlike Declan, the man was making it plain that he was greedy for loot rather than hungry for food because his orders were to kill the tinkers first and then plunder their possessions. The wagon and beast would fetch a good price, he said quietly, his voice beginning to wheeze with excitement, because only the rich or highborn could afford horses. From the talk they had heard in surrounding villages and farms, it seemed that these two tinkers were strange and secretive people who did not really need to ply their trade. It was said that their wagon might even be carrying a small hoard of silver or gold.

Some people had the minds of credulous children, Declan thought angrily, and these four had the minds of cruel, greedy, and uncaring children.

But his anger, he told himself truthfully, was due more to disappointment and the fear of unassuaged hunger than any strong feeling of sympathy for the tinkers.