Gunnit was watching the goats in West Pasture when his young dog, Kiki, alerted him that someone approached. He held his crooked staff at the ready as he watched the trail at the far end of the pasture. Eight-summers-old Aleen, his companion from the journey on the High Road, appeared, gasping for breath after the steep climb up the hillside.
“Gunnit!” she panted. “You’re wanted.”
“Has anything happened?” he asked, alarmed, as his thoughts flashed back to the time he was minding the goats when Sweetmeadow was raided.
“Nothing like that—everyone is safe. It’s just that Peddler is here, and he wants you. Right away, he says.”
“He wants me? I wonder why,” said Gunnit, grabbing his rucksack. “Are you staying with the flock?” he asked.
“No, a lad is coming. I just got here quicker.”
Gunnit offered her some water, and then Aleen and he started down the trail at a good clip, Kiki bounding ahead. Aleen was doing well keeping up with him; they nodded wordlessly at the replacement shepherd on his way up to resume Gunnit’s post. Thereafter, if Aleen slowed at steep spots, Gunnit grabbed her hand and helped her.
When they got back into Cloverfield, Gunnit expected to see the peddler’s cheerful wagon parked in the village square. Instead, the man with round green eyes and bells tied into his light yellow hair and darker yellow beard stood beside a tall horse, dun-colored with a white face and socks. Its white silky mane and tail were fancy plaited and tied with bells, and Peddler was holding the reins of another horse that looked almost its twin, but sporting a smaller saddle.
Dame Saggeta and his mother stood near the sundial, talking to Peddler, while other villagers watched from a discreet distance. His mother had baby Addigale on her hip, while Limpett clung to her skirts, sucking his thumb.
“It’s up to the boy,” Gunnit overheard Saggeta telling his mother, right before they spotted him and Aleen.
“What’s up to me?” Gunnit asked.
His mother turned to him, distress in her face. “This peddler says he is going on a journey and he needs you to come with him.”
“Come with him where and for how long?” asked Gunnit.
“That’s just it,” Dame Saggeta answered. “He won’t say. Nor will he say why it has to be you and no one else.”
His mother chewed her lip, “And he wants you to leave right now. This instant. Gunnit, you don’t have to go, just because he asks for you. We need you here; you’re only ten, too young to leave home. Even if this man is Saulė’s priest or some such—I’m your mother.”
Aleen came over and entwined her arm around his mother’s waist, which appeared to comfort her a bit.
“Peddler also says that he will protect you with his life,” Saggeta put in, “which is supposed to be reassuring, but makes me suspicious where he’d be taking you that you’d need such protection.”
The horses pranced a few steps, as if eager to be off. “Whoa there, Sunbeam,” said Peddler, who had crouched down to pet Kiki while the others conversed. He stood, saying, “Well, Gunnit, lad, nice to see you again. These ladies summed up the situation tidily. Naturally, you don’t have to join me. But I’ve been called on an urgent mission, a rescue mission, and I judge it wise to take you along.”
The boy looked in Peddler’s face, where he saw impatience but also warmth. Gunnit and his mother had only made their home in Cloverfield a few moons ago; while he didn’t want to be stuck here for always, he wasn’t particularly eager to leave just yet. After their trip on the High Road, maybe he’d had enough adventures and traveling … at least for a few years. But he remembered the last time he had spoken with Peddler, when the older man had told him he was “kissed by the Sun,” presented him with the golden Sun Bracelet, and made him feel special.
Under his shirt he felt his Bracelet give his upper arm a slight squeeze. If you were “kissed by the Sun” did that mean you had a duty to go on rescue missions?
“Gunnit,” his mother said, planting her foot. “I don’t want you to go.”
The boy looked back and forth from Peddler to the grouping of his mother, the little ones, Aleen, and Saggeta, torn and confused.
“Dame, I surely don’t mean to cause you pain; I know how much you’ve already endured,” said Peddler.
Next he turned to the young goatherd. “Before I go, lad, why not come say hello to Sunbeam? You’ll never again see a horse so fine.”
Gunnit walked the few paces away from his family to Peddler and the mounts. The horse’s neck felt softer than silk. Its large eye blinked at him, then it nodded its head up and down.
A thought hit Gunnit. “Is this—could this be about Finch?” Gunnit whispered to Peddler around the horse’s neck.
“Aye. Her life hangs by a thread.”
“Where is she? What can we do?”
“I’m not certain, but I must try, and the Mirror told me that with you, I’d have better odds.”
Gunnit drew in a deep breath and blew it out; he then strode back to his mother and leaned against her front, one arm around her neck, the other including Addigale in his hug.
“Ma, someone’s in danger, and I might be of help. You wouldn’t have someone die, just so’s you can keep me home?”
“I don’t know, Gunnit, I guess I wouldn’t … but it’s a wicked hard thing to ask me to watch my last child ride away with a man who’s practically a stranger on the chance of helping another stranger.”
“Ah, but you’re a wicked brave ma!” Gunnit said, kissing her cheek and drinking in her scent and softness.
In their small hut Gunnit took off his rucksack and threw in his few clothes. Outside again at the square, he rubbed four-summers-old Limpett’s head, kissed Addigale’s fat baby cheek, and embraced his mother once again. She was trying not to sob but not succeeding very well. He then enfolded Aleen in a hug, even if practically the whole village now hung around watching these outlandish events.
Aleen hugged him back and then reached down and grabbed Kiki around the neck so she wouldn’t follow the horses.
Peddler finished the ale that a Cloverfield woman had offered him and handed back the large mug. “That hit the spot. I thank you, dame,” he said so gravely it sounded like a benediction.
Peddler continued, saying, “Here, lad, let me adjust the stirrups.” He lifted Gunnit up to the back of the second horse and shortened the stirrup strap to his leg. Then he walked around the front of the horse to fix the other side.
“Test your foot. Did I get the length right? Are the straps even?”
“I guess so,” Gunnit answered, dubious about this large horse. He was so much higher from the ground than on Butter or Taffy.
“Not to fret, Gunnit,” Saggeta called out. “I will watch out for them all.”
Gunnit replied, “I know that, dame, or I couldn’t go.”
Peddler touched his brow in leave-taking and turned his horse to the road.
“Goodbye, Ma, goodbye, everyone,” called Gunnit. Without a command his horse followed its fellow. The horses moved so fast and their bells chimed so that Gunnit could hardly hear the villagers’ calls of farewell.
They cantered along the road as Gunnit tried to take in the events of the last hour, events that had upended his life.
Saulė’s horses flowed down from the meadows toward the High Road in a torrent of hoofbeats and dust, their silky manes and tails streaming behind and their bells jingling, while Gunnit, who had lost his left stirrup almost immediately, bounced about wildly and held on to his pommel for dear life.