Thanks again, to all reviewers. Don't be surprised if nothing happens in this chappie; everyone's going to unwind and have a little break. Don't you feel sorry for all of those oh-my-gosh-I'm-gonna-die-if-I-don't-run characters? Just one chapter...

Chapter Nine: A Rest and Some News

Dustfinger had never felt so angry before.

He had learned from Farid that the accursed reader, Orpheus, had run away as soon as Meggie had read him here. Farid had explained that they brought Orpheus so that the man could write Dustfinger back. But that son of a bitch had fooled around, raising everyone's hopes, then had abandoned them in less than a week.

"Then who read me back?" Dustfinger asked after a moment of thinking. They were pretty safe in this particular alley. Dustfinger and the Prince had often used it to hide from various enemies, from way back when they were no older than Meggie and Farid. Farid, of course, couldn't settle down. Neither could those other men.

"Meggie." Farid looked at Dustfinger.

Of course, you fool, thought Dustfinger. Who else?

"Who wrote me back?"

Farid gave him another strange look. "Meggie."

"Meggie? She wrote me back?" Dustfinger stared at Farid in incredulity. "She- did she-"

"Yes." Farid nodded. "She did it. I don't know how; she wouldn't tell me anything..."

"Wow." Dustfinger smiled. "Now she can write and read... What a little enchantress..." Dustfinger glanced around. "We're nearly there."

"Are we? Yeah, I remember this place." Suddenly he stopped. "Dustfinger?"

"Yes?"

"Who's that?" Farid was pointing at some figures at the other end of the alley. Dustfinger looked. "Damn! I think I recognize that person..."

Dustfinger was right. For 'that person' was none other than Orpheus, the very man they had been discussing about moments ago.

"What is it, sir?" someone asked from the back.

"Nothing, nothing. Just some people at the other end..." Dustfinger shook his head. "Stay back for a moment, though. You never know." What's Orpheus doing here?

"Why's he here, Dustfinger?" Farid voiced the very same question.

"I don't know." Dustfinger muttered. Orpheus moved forward, not even looking in their direction. Dustfinger began to let out a sigh of relief, but then Farid gripped his arm tightly. "Look!"

Following Orpheus was a group of men, but they weren't just any men. They bore the silver of the Adder on their breasts. Dustfinger cursed again.

"He's gone to them," Farid said huskily. Then anger took over the boy's features. "I want to kill him- teach him a lesson-"

"No, Farid." Dustfinger held Farid back. The boy was shaking from rage. "We'll do that another time. Right now we have something else to do. The Prince and Silvertongue weren't where they were supposed to be; that means they've run into trouble. We said that we'd meet at Fenoglio's house if something happens. So that's what we're going to do, Farid. We'll beat Orpheus some other time."

Farid put his fist down, but he was still angry.

The rest of the trip was silent. Both Farid and Dustfinger were trembling with anger; none of the men knew what all the fuss was about. Better not let them know, thought Dustfinger grimly as he reached the front door of Fenoglio's house.

Making sure that the coast was clear, Dustfinger knocked.

Minerva, the landlady, opened the door with a grave look on her face. She quickly ushered all the men in. Dustfinger found himself wondering whether they'd all fit in the small house. Good. They all fit.

"Are they here?" Dustfinger asked in a low voice. Farid was shifting uneasily. Most of the men settled on the few chairs or on the floor. "Are they all right?"

"Yes," murmured Minerva. "They're fine, except for a few minor injuries. But that robber, the Bluejay..."

"What about him?"

"He'll live, but he could have fared better." Dustfinger did not ask any more.

"Where are they?"

"In the kitchen. I've called a physician; he's treating the Jay right now, I think." Minerva eyed the bulging sack of food at the front door.

"How badly is he hurt?" Despite himself Dustfinger was worried. Farid was waiting for an answer, as well.

Minerva just shook her head.

Dustfinger and Farid made their way to the kitchen. The Prince was there, leaning against a wall. To Dustfinger's surprise, the bear was right outside, by the back door. Those two really never parted.

Silvertongue was sitting in a chair by the table. An old man that Dustfinger assumed to be a physician was standing beside him and was blocking whatever he was doing from view.

"Prince!" a relieved smile lit up the Prince's dark face. Silvertongue looked up, too. Dustfinger came forward to see both of them. Farid followed. Then Dustfinger stopped.

The physician was binding Silvertongue's hand with some coarse white fabric. But Dustfinger could see the missing finger clearly, even through the bandage. Although he had seen far worse throughout his life, Dustfinger's stomach gave an involuntary lurch. Farid whispered - "What, Dustfinger? What is it?"

"See for yourself," he said softly.

"The Piper's work," Silvertongue said tonelessly, seeing Dustfinger and Farid staring at the wound.

"Did you kill him?"

"The Prince did."

"Good," Dustfinger said with a sigh. "One less enemy to worry about." he glanced back at Silvertongue. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Silvertongue said, standing and examining his hand. Then he gave the physician a nod.

"We've got our physician," said the Black Prince. "We'd better head back soon. The others will be waiting. Did you get the food?"

Dustfinger nodded. "And lots of it, too."

For the first time, the physician spoke. "Excuse me... but are there seriously sick or wounded people at your camp?"

"No," the Prince shook his head. "Just a few minor injuries, and some illnesses. Probably nothing that you couldn't cure." The physician gave a relieved sigh and a nod.

"What about you, Dustfinger? Did you run into any trouble?" that was Silvertongue.

Dustfinger glanced at Farid. "Sort of. We met up with an old friend..."

"Who?"

"Who else? Orpheus." Dustfinger replied bitterly.

"That moon-faced man?" the Black Prince asked. "What's he doing in Ombra?"

"We figure he's joined forces with Mortola or the Adderhead. Or both. He had a horde of silver soldiers tagging along behind him."

"That bastard," muttered the Prince. "I knew he was up to no good. He's probably told the Magpie of us - where we are, our condition, our numbers... Perhaps of our plans, too. That thrice-accursed son of a bitch!"

Dustfinger looked at Silvertongue. He hadn't replied to Dustfinger's news yet, but his jaw was tightly set with anger and frustration.

"Then the faster we get away from here, the better," Silvertongue said at last.

"I agree." the Prince said. "We should go now."

In a grim silence the three men, plus the physician, entered the other room, where the men were all resting. They all looked up at the sight of their leaders.

"All right, everyone," the Prince said loudly. "We have to leave now. We're sure Mortola has sent for reinforcements. We need to get out of Ombra as fast as possible. Let's go." he turned to Minerva. "Thank you for your hospitality. We hope we haven't been too much trouble."

"No, no, not at all," Minerva said. "I wish you luck, Prince."

The Prince went to the back door, where his bear was waiting. Everyone else exited through the front. Dustfinger was afraid again. Stop it, you coward, Dustfinger thought to himself. Even Silvertongue's not all twitchy like you. Farid seemed relaxed enough, so Dustfinger allowed himself to settle down. Yet something still didn't seem right...

The rest of the trip went without any more mishaps. They didn't meet Mortola or Orpheus, or anyone else unpleasant on the way back. Just a few villagers from Ombra, going about their business.

When they got back to the entrance of the camp things were quiet and calm, just like when they had left. Two robbers were guarding the gap in the foliage with distant expressions on their faces.

It looks like things have settled down, Dustfinger thought as the group started entering the camp. What a relief.

Or so he thought.