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"I doubt it, he'd probably kill me if I tried. He's good at that sort of thing."
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Laurie raised her eyebrows slightly at the young boy's comment and nonchalant attitude.
I wonder if he's joking...she thought. A glance into the corner at the man the boy called Awyrgan made her decide he most likely wasn't. There was a barely perceptible tenseness in his attitude; Laurie fancied he seemed like he was watching them though his eyes were closed.
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"Oh I don't really have a name," he said in a matter of fact way. "Enc...Awyrgan said I could call myself Nárello. He calls me little úlfr."
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The lady in white opened her eyes wide again and was barely able to catch herself from speaking out of suprise. "Nárello is a nice name," she said instead with a smile.
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"Look at him, you'd think he was asleep." He looked at the lady in a mock serious fashion. "You think if I throw something at him he'd catch it? He caught me taking one of his kni..things when I thought he was sleeping." He grinned cheekily.
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Laurie grinned at Nárello's impudence, but cautioned, "I wouldn't throw that if I were you. Besides, he looks tired; he could do with a rest." But just as those words left her mouth, another young lady stood up on a chair and began shouting at Awyrgan. She swayed from side to side, drunk from too much wine and with grief. Laurie watched Awyrgan scoop her up and carry her easily to where he again sat, and begin to talk to her in a low voice.
What a very odd man,she mused.
Still, I hazard it wouldn't be too wise to pry into his business, as intruiging as it is. Laurie had not forgotten the incident in the loft. She turned again to the child sitting beside her.
"Where is your home, Nárello? Do you come from around these parts?"