"What are ye up to, lassie?" Though Tyke sat on an upended barrel, when Coban leaned against the wall across from her their eyes were on a level. She was hidden in an alley between the rows of wooden buildings that made up this little town where they'd stopped for the month, so Sir Rowland could work on the Book.
"Fletching." She refused to meet his eyes, although she could feel him staring at her. A brisk fall wind blew through the alleyway, swirling leaves about his feet as it took the smell of her arrow glue away.
He made a vexed sound. "Here in the dark, lass? Why?"
"I don't want to be in the way," she mumbled.
She felt him draw close, though she kept her focus on the half finished arrow in her lap. "Scootch ye over, lassie." She obediently moved over, and Ban hopped onto the barrel beside her. "Now, don't ye be telling me ye're in the way. Ye ain't never been, and if I know ye, ye never will be." That was as close to a pep talk as he had ever given her. "Look at me." She hesitated, then obeyed, reluctantly meeting Coban's concerned green eyes with her own purple ones. "Ye've been a right little rain cloud since we caught his lordship up after scouting. It weren't the Count, 'cause ye were right enough when we was scouting, and it ain't the place, since ye loved it not a week ago." He waited. "Well?"
She tried to hold silent, but couldn't. "I hate him! He's mean and he's rotten and he's a sneak. I dunno what he's doing here, but I wish he'd just up and die so then I could be left alone!"
Coban caught her chin gently, looking at her. Tyke waited, knowing he could see the tears brimming in her eyes. She dashed them away angrily. "Who lass?"
She snuffled, hating that her weakness showed. "Julius. That flaming sod," she added. For once Coban didn't even comment on her language, just wiped a tear away with his finger.
"I hear he's been a right terror to the younger boys," he commented neutrally.
Tyke spat, hitting the wall across the alley. "Aye, that's a word for it," she said darkly. "He's beating the tar out of them, and they just have to take it."
"Don't they fight back?" Coban wanted to know.
Of course he wouldn't know what it's like, Tyke thought bitterly. He's bigger than Julius, even if he's younger, and he's no commoner. And the boys won't tell, people would think they were soft, or whiners. "They won't hit a noble," she said.
"They hit nobles all the time," Coban exclaimed. "Who else would deserve a good thrashing?" Trust another noble to say that, Tyke thought, but kept it to herself.
"They can't anymore. We missed it scouting, but the Count said commoners weren't to hit nobles, or fight them, except maybe in war against nobles who aren't our nobles, or something. Common folk who did could face big trouble."
"That ain't right," Coban growled. Tyke was glad he was angry and indignant: Coban was older than she was, and knew a lot more, and if he said something wasn't right, then it probably wasn't. "Ye stay out of his way, ye hear, lassie? I know ye could take him, but I'd rather ye didn't try. I'd bet he's got some nasty friends around to help him, just in case someone decides to hang the Count's rules." He grinned at her, and she returned it weakly. Julius hadn't picked on her yet, but she'd seen him watching her, and she knew it was just a matter of time. Rowland couldn't be everywhere, and she didn't doubt Julius would find a time when they weren't under his eye to make her life miserable.
"Now then," Ban added, reaching over and taking the arrow out of her hands. "I know ye're a good fletcher. And ye know ye're a good fletcher. And Sir Rowland knows ye're a damn fine fletcher who makes the best arrows of us all." Tyke turned red at the praise, though she knew it was true. "So do ye want to tell me why a five year old can make a better arrow than this?"
Tyke turned redder, if that was possible. "Julius broke most of his trying to shoot birds in the forest this morning."
Coban's grin lit up his whole face. "And Sir Rowland wanted his new squire to have the very best replacements, am I right?"