Sarabande: River of Falcons Book 4

17. Following the Trail

Thistle turned from her examination of a dark old portrait of her grandfather and put a hand on her hip. She studied her two children with a certain amount of pride. They were sitting in adjacent armchairs in the living room, chatting happily, obviously pleased to be back home.

"Can we stay?" Nighthawk asked her.

Thistle frowned. "I don't think it's wise to spend the night. We don't know how secure the place is. Maybe the sorcerers—"

"But you said there was no sign of sorcerers," Sasha interrupted. "You said it was obvious that they hadn't found it again."

"And I also said I thought it was safe," Thistle replied. "But that was before we nearly got blown up. Not to mention that you've gone and ruined one of the leaded glass windows, Sasha! Nobody repairs those these days. What are we going to do about that?"

"We can board it up. What does that have to do with staying the night?"

"Just one night?" Nighthawk added in a pleading voice. "Please, mother? I want to sleep in my own bed. I miss it!"

Thistle frowned. "Well, all right, but we'll have to take turns standing watch. You won't get a good night's rest."

"We don't mind," Nighthawk said. "I'll take the first watch. You must be tired, Mother."

Thistle laughed. "It's not even sunset yet. I don't feel like sleeping. Tell you what, Nighthawk, you can stand the last watch. I'll wake you at starset and you can watch the dawn rise over the valley. I'm afraid if I give you an earlier watch, you'll fall asleep in the middle of it."

"But Mother," Nighthawk objected, "I'm quite capable of—"

"Don't talk yourself out of the best watch," Sasha said with a chuckle. "You'll get much more sleep than we will. Mother, would you like me to take the first watch or the second?"

"The first. Wake me at midnight. You'll know it's time because—"

"The moon will be at the top of its arc," Sasha said. "Don't worry, everything will be fine. You'll see."

"But we haven't any food, and that wild girl ruined my stewpot by filling it with mineral powder," Thistle complained.

"The vegetable garden must still have something in it," Nighthawk said.

"Well, I suppose so," Thistle agreed. "Why don't you two go out and see what's survived the weeds and the mice. Maybe there are enough potatoes and onions to make a stew. I'll go into the kitchen and see what I can do to clean up and get a fire started in the stove. Everything's going to be terribly dusty, I'm sure."

But the kitchen was in surprisingly good order. Thistle found embers banked up under ash in the cook-stove, and a neat stack of wood beside it. A fresh bucket of spring-water was standing on the counter and a basket of wild artichokes was waiting to be cooked. "That girl must have set up housekeeping!" Thistle said to herself. "Who would have guessed. She seemed more than half wild." Then she shrugged and began to prepare the artichokes.

Out in the garden, Sasha and Nighthawk were surprised to find a row of beans neatly tied to stakes and well weeded. "Who did this?" Nighthawk asked.

"Zibellina," Sasha said.

"That wild animal? You can't be serious!"

"Well, who else?" Sasha replied. "I think she's moved in. She'll probably come back once we leave."

"Let's use some of her beans in our stew," Nighthawk suggested. "She oughtn't to stay here without contributing something. Right?"

Sasha was picking beans absent-mindedly. "Huh?" he said. "What was that?"