Jenny: Acquaintances

The girl on the block, probably about Gwenhywfar's age, maybe a little younger, turned her head just then and looked across the heads of the crowd at her. The Guttersnipe found herself looking into a horrific visage: the face was thin, the cheekbones sharp, the skin pale, but what she saw something, something was almost more of a feeling than a thing in itself: like the way a plant must feel when it reaches up for spring and is stabbed by one last blade of frost.

It was only a moment. Firefly spooked of a sudden and she managed the pony, catching sight of the thin, black-eyed waif that had crept up along the pony's flank.

"What are you doing here?" she asked harshly, pulling out the crop that she carried more for safety than for Firefly. "Why aren't you raiding plover nests?"

Mordred deftly sidestepped the pony's legs and stood straight and tall, looking back at her unwaveringly, head to one side. He said nothing. He never had to.

"Go away," the Guttersnipe admonished him.

He slipped his hand into the pouch hung from his belt and pulled out the gnarled black skeleton of a bird. The Guttersnipe watched him stroke it, unable for a few minutes to pull her eyes away. He was as good at magic as Gwenhywfar was. Finally she jerked her head to one side, blinking. "Go away, Mordred. I don't want you here. I'm on Master Lucius' business."

"I know."

It was a relief to see Wulf, of all people, shouldering through the crowd toward them from the direction of the auction block. The Guttersnipe raised herself up on the saddle-pad and waved her crop. Seeing her, Wulf swung his course their way.

Drawing up, Wulf started in with "What - " toward the Guttersnipe but, catching sight of Mordred, stopped. The two contemplated each other for a moment, then Wulf, fast as lightning, gave the boy a good blow to the ear. Nonchalantly Mordred pitched over were he stood, palm to his head, and got up again, taking a few steps back but not leaving.

"What are you about?" Wulf asked the Guttersnipe.

Firefly sidled away from Mordred. "I've come down to the felter's. Master Lucius is needing blankets for the two-year-olds."

"And hands to sew them," mused Wulf. "I've come down to find another pair."

Laughing softly through her nose, the Guttersnipe looked across the crowd at the black-haired girl again, noting the thinness of the wrists. "That one? I suppose so. She doesn't look much good for anything else. She would break apart if you put her on Firefly."

"Mm," said Wulf - a term he must have picked up from Master Lucius. Then, "Where is that witch's brat?"

The Guttersnipe looked hastily about Firefly, but caught no sight of Mordred. He had simply vanished, and something about the vanishing left a bad taste in her mouth when she knew she ought to have been grateful. "I don't know," she said. "But he's probably up to no - "

There was a sudden shriek from the auction block.