[Nurumaiel]

As the Innkeeper had approached them, Andhun had begun to tremble violently, and when the cider was placed with a little thump before them he jumped and shied back. "A bit of cider for you boys," the Innkeeper said. The fear in Andhun's eyes disappeared and was replaced with one of confusion. And then he smiled and murmured his thanks, yet he looked doubtfully at Cynan. Cynan smiled back at him in an encouraging manner before speaking to the Innkeeper, saying, "Excuse me, sir, I have no money." The Innkeeper laughed and waved this aside, and then moved away.

Andhun seemed to have recovered from his fear and was now sipping his cider slowly, following the Innkeeper with his eyes. Cynan, however, did not touch his own mug. He watched the younger boy with a musing look upon his face, and compared him to an ill-treated dog he had met once, jumping away in terror from even the kindliest caress, and simply because the dog had not known anything better. Yet it was odd that Andhun, who could not have been working for 'the master' very long and who had lived in a loving family, should be like that dog. It was possible, Cynan supposed, that Andhun had forgotten most of his life before, though he remembered vague details, such as his sister. Cynan had met a man who had been burned in the fire and had suffered through a raging fever, and when the fever subsided his memory had also flowed away and he remembered only a little before his burns and the fever. Perhaps Andhun was the same, and the only clear memories he had were the memories of being beaten, and then flung in the streets only to be dragged back again and beaten some more.

I pity him, Cynan thought, and his did with all the strength of his boyish heart. I pity him deeply. Look at the circles under his eyes, and the weary expression within them. And see how thin he is; he must be half-starved where he is. And when he does eat it cannot be anything pleasant, judging by the way he delights in a simple mug of cider. It seems that the one thing that keeps him from despairing is the hope of someday seeing his sister again. Poor little fellow, I hope he finds her.

Andhun had finished his cider and was turning the mug thoughtfully in his fingers. Cynan beamed another smile at him, saying, "I do hope, Andhun, you enjoyed your cider." When Andhun nodded, he continued on. "We really must thank the Innkeeper. There are not many who would give two dirty, hot boys a mug of cider and ask no payment for it. As I told you, Andhun, there are some very kindhearted people hereabouts."

"Yes, sir," said Andhun, and relapsed into silence. Cynan felt mild concern growing in him, but concern was vanquished and utter rebellion came to him when Andhun spoke again. "I thank you for your hospitality, sir, but now I must be returning to the master."

"No!" Cynan cried, gently stopping Andhun as he tried to rise. "No, Andhun, don't go yet. Surely your master will not be looking for you already?"

"No, sir, but I have learned from past experience that it is better for me if I return before he begins to look."

Cynan felt horror within him again, but he did not express and held Andhun down with the same strong yet gentle grip. "Andhun, you cannot leave yet," he said. "You are hungry... you are famished. You must get a square meal. I will have to run home to get some money to pay for it, but you must eat. And I have noticed you have winced whenever your back touches something. It must be sore from your master's hand. I will beg the Innkeeper give some herb to soothe it, if he has any such thing. And then I will take you back myself, if go you must, and beg excuses and pay your master for any trouble I may have caused by detaining you."

Andhun was clearly weary, and he did not insist in leaving but sank gratefully against the chair, wincing as Cynan had said when his back touched the firm wood. "I thank you, sir," he murmured. "You are very kind."

"Sit here," said Cynan, and hurried to the Innkeeper, who was with a young lady and a dog. Clearing his throat, he interrupted politely but quickly, for he realized that Andhun grew more anxious with every passing moment. "Mr. Innkeeper, sir, I beg your pardon if I interrupt," he said, "but I would very much like to get some breakfast for my friend. I have not with me the money to pay, but while he eats I will run home and fetch it. And, sir," he added, "my friend has a very sore back and, if you have any such thing, would you give him something to soothe it? I am willing to pay for this, as well."