Til doesn’t ask Noan the child’s name the next morning.

  It’s not that he forgets, he thinks about it as he changes the babe, feeds him, and gets him ready for the coming day of riding.

  It’s when Noan comes to wake him, knocking on the door at an hour that seems far too early for the Wizard, that he sees Noan’s face, and the oddly intense look on it. Something about it causes him to pause, to consider, and to forget the now seemingly small, inconsequential question.

  Moments later, they’re back on the road, and Noan still has that odd intensity about him.

  If asked, Til wouldn’t be certain about what exactly was putting him on edge, and wouldn’t be able to point it out for others to see. Maybe it was the slight furrow of blond brow, or the hint, the barest downward curve of normally smiling lips. It could have been the way his steps were silent, not even whisper loud, not the steps of a wizard who had no reason to hide, or of the king’s favorite, who would be safe from nearly all crimes. They were the steps of someone who couldn’t afford to be caught, no matter the actual cost. It could have had something to do with the way the cloak-covered shoulders were stiff, and only narrowly missed knocking into a sleepy woman.

  Maybe it was that he didn’t even turn to check if he had hit her.

  Whatever it was, whatever it had been, something had to have caused a change in the man practically overnight, and it left Til deeply unsettled.

  The Wizard only paused for a moment to hold the child long enough for Til to mount his horse before handing him back with too harsh movements that spoke of a desire to be as far away from the babe as possible.

  And with that, they were away.

  Leaving Til with nothing but time to think, as he didn’t even know where they were going next.

  When he’d been a squire, early in his time in Sunotoma, he’d been one in a crowd. One of dozens. He barely spoke in his first year, even to the people training him. Back then, it had also made him a beacon for gossip, as many people had learned that he wouldn’t spread what they had to tell him, and he wouldn’t judge them for telling him.

  In that time, he’d learned more from maids, servants, knights, and Honored than he’d ever wanted, or ever could have planned for.

  It also put him in a unique position, where he was able to witness Noan before he’d become the man he was now, and before he’d settled into his role as the King’s Right Hand Wizard. He’d been different then, free. Mischievous and wild as the day was long, and Til had heard on more than one occasion that none except the king, and maybe not even him, were safe from the, at the time, unending string of pranks.

  Many had wondered why the king had placed him in such a prestigious position, but here, now, the man beside Til didn’t have a trace of that mischief.

  Straight-backed, the Wizard’s blue eyes held storms captive within them as they fixated on the horizon. Noan’s pale hands were bleached white from their grip on the reins, as though he expected them to be yanked from his grasp.

  Overall, Til thought Noan looked like a man who wouldn’t, and couldn't, be moved.

  And much like a man spotting a storm on the horizon, Til avoided engaging and putting himself at the center of whatever sharp focus the other was maintaining to figure out what was wrong.

  Til had to turn around again when Noan stopped his horse without warning within the walls of the small city they’d entered. Noan’s posture remained the same, but his eyes were closed as he focused on something that Til couldn’t see, hear, smell, or touch.

  Noan’s eyes snap open, and he turns his horse without hesitation, leading them down the city streets at a determined pace. Urging the horses faster than he did outside the walls or in the smaller village, his head swiveled as he searched. Though for what, or who, he didn’t bother telling Til.

  The quiet intensity worsened; whatever he’d seen or felt, it seemed like Noan was expecting to find a body at the end of their path.

  Around another corner is the mouth of an alley, and Noan’s slipping off his horse without a word.

  Rounding the same corner, Til examines the scene, taking in as much as he can as he slips off Stony.

  A small figure is struggling against the people holding them against a wall; it’s hard to tell anything about them because of the two larger figures absolutely dwarfing them, but all three have missed the arrival of the two men.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Til can only hope that the kid they’re looking for isn’t one of the bigger ones.

  Speaking loudly as he approaches with glowing hands, Noan’s words hold no malice, no worry, no fear, or… anything really. His voice manages to be disconcerting, devoid of any emotion as he calls, “Hello Gentlemen. Lovely day we're having, isn’t it?”

  Unsure what play exactly, Noan’s going for, Til gets close enough to be clear he’s with the Wizard, his hand clearly resting on the hilt of his sword.

  The two larger ones, with particularly brutish faces that manage to look particularly cruel even in their surprise, look at the two men. The slow turn of their thoughts is, like a waterwheel at a nearly dried stream, very obvious, and not adequate for much.

  Attempting to rush Til, they drop the smaller one.

  Til notes that one crumples to the ground before he’s forced to completely focus on the others.

  Only for them to be grabbed at the collars by Noan’s glowing hands and tossed as though they didn’t have weight. No, they had weight, based on the sickening slap of meat against the hard-packed ground; no, he moved them as if they didn’t weigh anything to him.

  Noan’s pointing at the smaller figure now, and without thinking, Til rushes over to them, picking up the small child, somehow smaller than they looked, and throws them over his shoulder.

  They’re yelling something, kicking, flailing, tiny fists hammering against Til’s armor, but they’re so small that he can barely feel it, that it barely registers.

  A swift moment later, the older child is lying over the front of the saddle, and the babe is clutched to his chest.

  Finally, finally he can actually draw his sword.

  But the attackers have fled.

  The alleyway is empty but for his companion on this quest, who stands tall, firm, with a glowing sword that doesn’t quite seem real in his hands.

  Looking around, Til can’t see, anyone, really. They’re alone, and no one seems to have noticed the situation. He almost misses Noan’s soft question. “Are you alright?”

  Til turns back to find Noan’s eyes are raking over him, his ethereal sword held in a tight fist, still lifted for a fight easily won. He nods at the other, words escaping him.

  “The children?”

  Til looks down, he hadn’t thought to check. It’d been a long time since he was responsible for anyone but himself. Inside the repurposed travel bag is the babe, who's looking all around with wide eyes, probably woken from a nap, but apparently unfazed by it. Who coos at him when he realizes Til’s looking at him.

  He turns back to the horse, where the other child, a girl, Til thinks, sits on his horse.

  Not just sat on his horse, preparing to ride off with it!

  “Don’t do it,” Bursts from Til, though his voice is lowered; it’s still enough that the girl freezes. “We’re on a tight timeline here, and we’ve already found you once. Please don’t make us waste our time hunting you down again.”

  Looking down at the reins, he can tell she’s still thinking about it, but she looks back at him to ask, “What do you want with me? I’m no one.”

  Til wonders, how does he explain this? This girl is too thin, obviously malnourished, and unwashed. How long has it been since she’d had an adult she could trust? And why should she trust him?

  Turning, Til looks to Noan, hoping the other man has something, anything he can say that might help.

  “You’re Touched,” Noan tells the girl, taking a small step forward; the girl visibly stiffens at it. “We just want to make sure you’re taken care of. Touched children have been going missing, too many of them. We’re trying to help, we want to help. So we’re finding those that haven’t disappeared, and we’re taking them to the capital so they can be safe, and even educated on what they can do.”

  “I see, you only care about me because these other kids are going missing. Right?” The girl huffs, looking more and more like she’s going to take off on Til’s horse.

  He really hopes she doesn’t; he likes Stony. It’d be hard to replace her.

  “The circumstances aren’t what’s important. You are. And we’re here to help you now.” Til cuts in. “You’ve been on your own for a while now, right?”

  “What of it?” the girl says, surprise and confusion crossing her face before she nearly covers the emotions with a mask of disdainful disinterest.

  “If you come with us, we can teach you. Skills to get by on your own,” Seeing a negative response about to burst out, Til gestures at the empty alleyway. “I’m sure you can get by on your own most of the time, but you’ll be safer, know what to do to get out of those situations if they happen often.”

  The girl looks at the space, at the wall that she’d been shoved up against not even minutes before, before looking down at the horse.

  She was considering it, but would she accept?

  Til really didn’t want to lose his horse this early on in their journey.

  “How long-” She asks eventually, now looking at Til. “-would I have to stay?”

  Cautiously stepping closer, close enough that if she tries to bolt anyway, he’d at least have a chance of grabbing the reins from her, Til answers, “Long enough for us to prove to the king that we found you. That we got you to the capital like we were supposed to. Anything after that would only be to your benefit, but if you chose to disappear, no one would stop you.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “We’ll have to take you in anyway,” Noan says without any hesitation.

  Wishing the Wizard could feel the heat of his glare through his helmet, Til does his best to keep from letting his frustration at the Wizard’s lack of wherewithal from appearing in his voice.

  The girl’s face is mullishly set, and Til knows he’s going to have to choose his next words even more carefully.

  “Which I’m sure you’ll make as hard as possible for all of us, which is why we’d really prefer you agree to come willingly, to save us all parties that energy.”

  “If I wanted to get away from you, you’d never catch me.” The thoughtful look is back on her face.

  “Does that mean you’re agreeing?”

  “For now.” She straightens, “So. Where to next?”

  “Next, you move forward or get off my horse. Then he’ll tell us.”

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