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Troubled Sleep

Adal’s sleep was troubled. He dreamed he was a rabbit hiding from a hawk, but no matter where he hid, the hawk could see him. He dreamed he was a deer hiding from a hunter to much the same effect. He dreamed he was a rabbit hunting a deer and the deer was drinking all his wine. He bolted upright in the dark. He knew he shouldn’t have tried the parsnips. Adal hadn’t even known they were edible. He’d been right too. They’d tasted like splinters.

Adal straightened his blanket and tried to get comfortable. His dreams had been right about one thing, even if they were laying it on a bit thick: he needed to escape. Lord Glove had been friendly enough, but Adal was sure Lord Glove had seen through his fabrication. He flipped over his pillow and rested his head. Adal would wake at dawn, warn Î, and leave immediately. He wouldn’t even stay for breakfast.

With that decided, Adal closed his eyes. He would need to be rested for the journey ahead. The pillows were very comfortable. Goose down, Adal thought, before he lost consciousness, I’ll need to tell Matthew to get some goose down.

The second set of dreams was worse than the first. A cruel faced giant in an iron crown lounged atop an onyx mountain. He had a bowl in his hand, brimming to the top with people. One by one he popped the screaming unfortunates into his mouth. When the bowl was empty the giant let out a roar and tossed it to the ground where it became a hill. A castle stood atop the hill, several days journey from the giant. The banner, red, white, and blue, caught the giant’s eye. He reached out and tore the castle from the ground. The giant was bigger now, the castle a mere morsel to be consumed. Unsatisfied, the giant reached further afield to other castles, manors, and farms. One by one he threw them into his mouth, each less fulfilling than the last. Flames of fire and shadow rose around the giant, burning what he did not consume.

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“Subtle,” Adal cracked one eye open. Next time he’d just club himself over the head with the parsnips and save them the effort.

A weak ray of light had fallen across his face. Dawn. Adal leapt from the bed, blankets clinging to him like a philosopher. He struggled free of their grasp and emerged fully clothed in red travelling leathers. He had been ready to make a getaway, just in case. Thankfully, his sack of scrolls had been brought in to his room. He tugged open the bag to make sure it was all in order and was relieved to find it completely untampered. The cheese hadn’t even moved an inch from between the covers of a particularly interesting book he had been reading.

He needed to find Î and get her out of here. He would have to find a place for her. She could become his apprentice. Not an apprentice like Matthew, but a person he cared about and taught the important things in life. How to write, copy text, read ancient languages, get ink out of your skin. And if she was doing all that, Matthew could focus more on the cooking and cleaning and tending to the horse. Yes, he could find space for another pair of hands.

Adal crept to the door and peeked around the frame. The coast was clear. He tiptoed halfway down the hall, then flattened himself against a wall, breathing hard. Tiptoeing was a lot of work. Adal felt for sure his ankles had been about to snap. He wouldn’t try that again.

He made the dash to the outer door as stealthily as a man dressed in red and carrying a bulging sack could be. He tried the handle, and it opened. Adal slipped through. Now all he had to do was find Î.

During dinner he had learned she spent her days in some sort of workshop in the basement of a small shack. Î had said the workshop was off a ways from the town proper, so Adal squinted at the horizon. He found it in short order, freshly varnished wood glinting in the dawn sun. He would start there. If she was not at work already, he would wait for her. Then the two would flee.

Adal placed his bag on his shoulder and set off for the shack in the distance.