A/N - Hearty thanks to Jonathan, Aerin and Driten for the reviews!
**Disclaimer** - See previous notes of like.
CHAPTER FIVE
She watched the man with yellow hair round the corner and disappear from view. He had to be with the other one. Two strangers searching for a healer the same night, when the town had not seen a traveller in seasons? It was surely more than chance.
She let the flimsy hanging brush through her fingers, and walked back to the narrow pallet.
Her belongings were strewn before her, ready to be bundled into a hastily prepared knapsack.
A sad array indeed.
She felt more than heard the rasping snore from the floor below. Encouraged by the sound, she urged herself to hurry, packing her meagre gatherings into the sack with cold, unsteady fingers.
Knotting the bindings, she hefted the sack on her shoulder, and surveyed the room that had been her home for these past seasons.
Nothing, always nothing.
She opened the door, and stepped lightly down the staircase.
She chided herself for her efforts to be as silent as possible. He would not realise her disappearance, or anything for that matter, at least until sunrise.
Still, she reasoned, old habits were hard to kill.
The Llayroot-laced wine lay mostly splattered on the floor, oozing from the wooden mug grasped loosely in his heavy hand.
She skirted him and the liquid carefully. The latter reminded her of spilt blood, and a queasy feeling began to gnaw at her innards.
What was she doing?
Getting herself killed, most likely.
The thought that this eventuality was preferable to a lifetime of confinement spurred her into the stores room.
The myriad of jars and phials glimmered in the dim candlelight.
She quickly scanned the labels and contents of the vestibules, pausing every now and then to shake her head, or deposit a selected container into her carrier.
Satisfied she had all she required, the girl moved into the room with the man who had been her companion and captor.
Stepping over his bulk, she started at another of his sporadic snores before leaning to pat the beast at the hearth.
The dog raised his head in acknowledgement before lapsing back into his customary doze.
With one last glance at her surroundings, and a deep breath, the girl was gone.
Eyeing the men at the table with a surreptitious eye, Cal turned back to Mat, his face troubled.
'You are right, Mat. They do not look too happy with us at the moment.'
Mat nodded in assent.
Apparently, the group had found a welcome distraction from their reverie; intimidating the newcomers. Or at least trying to. Mat doubted any of the motley group had a decent fight in them.
He reminded himself that they were not here to cause trouble. The only thing Mat wanted right now was his goods from the healer and a swift leave taking.
The landlady continued to shoot glances at Mat, but they were certainly no longer of the welcoming variety. Mat had not touched his drink since the last accidental sip, and his expression at that unhappy event had been sufficient to off put any desire Cal had to purchase one.
Evidently they weren't the free spending customers she expected.
Cal was still skirting his gaze around the bar nervously. Mat could sense his concern.
The man would fight if pressed, and fight hard too, but was always reluctant to embroil himself in conflict, no matter how pugnacious the prospective combatant.
'Relax,' Mat hissed. 'We will leave soon. The healer must have what we need ready by... '
A scraping of chair legs, painfully loud in the oppressive silence, stopped him.
Turning slowly, Mat saw a man at the aggressors table rise. The lug stood there, never taking his eyes from Mat's, and simply glowering in silence.
'Is there a problem, friend?' Mat asked lightly. It was an effort to keep his voice affable.
The man snorted.
'Friend?' there was a derisive note in his thickly accented voice. 'No problem, friend. I just want to clear a little matter with you'
Mat spread his hands. 'Be my guest.'
'That mouth ever get you in trouble, boy?' the man snarled, not pleased with the lack of effect his supposed intimidation was exacting.
'Several times.' Mat bared an insolent grin. Cal groaned softly.
The man's colour deepened as Mat flourished a knife into his hands and began to idly nick his fingernails.
'That the best trick you got?' yhe man hissed, evidently unimpressed. 'Hear you used the same one on Nath. You had a lucky escape boy. It'll take a lot more than that little pig-sticker to worry me.'
The man was really starting to try his patience. Mat could feel anger rising in him, almost to a point he couldn't control. He didn't need this right now.
'Let us make a deal.' Mat stated in a neutral tone, all pretence at nonchalance gone. 'I will continue to sit here with my friend for a while, and you sit there with yours.' He leaned forward slightly. 'I am not in a playful mood tonight, so any little flurry you are planning may not be to your liking.'
'You threatening me?' the man snarled.
'No, you imbecile, I am telling you to sit down and shut that fool mouth of yours.'
The words thrummed in the shocked silence. With some dismay, Mat realised he should have directed that piece of advice at himself.
'Mat, we have to get out.' Cal tugged at Mat's sleeve, distracting him from the reddening brute, which was something of a mistake.
With a roar, the man charged at Mat, launching the full weight of his considerable bulk at his opponent.
The table didn't stand a chance. Mat felt the breath heave from his lungs as he hit the floor amid a mass of splintered debris, and was trying to gasp some air when the man raised his seemingly hugh fist above his shoulder.
Mat raised his arms to his face in futile defence against that overbearing blow, still desperately drawing for breath, and hoped Cal would intervene.
Soon.
The sound that reached her ears wasn't what she was expecting from the place.
A cacophony of roars and jeers greeted her, occasionally punctuated by a painful sounding thud. The girl gave a convulsive swallow.
Apprehensive to the point of being sick, she slowly reached her had to the door before resolving her effort into a hard push.
She gazed at the sight before her in wonder as startling silence ensued.
Splintered tables and tankards littered the floor, as did an array of irate looking men, all frozen in curiously awkward positions.
Stupefied, she lowered her glance to meet the eyes of a young dark-haired man lying almost at her feet.
Well, meet aneye to exact; the other was swollen shut.
They all gaped at the intruder, as though deliberating whether to continue the melee, investigate the newcomer, or worse, rope them into the fray.
Realising her appearance was not helping her in the situation, she slowly lowered the hood of her black cloak, feeling unbearably awkward under such harsh scrutiny.
A small, wan smile on her face, she again lowered her gaze to the familiar man at her feet.
'I believe you require a healer?'