The larger figure, obviously an older man, was supporting the younger, much as an older cousin or uncle might do if his young relative were in need. He gazed levelly at the young guardsman. "I am taking this youngster to shelter, to see if I can help him. My home is not far, and that seemed more expedient than sending for a healer right away. Rest assured, young mestru that I shall take all proper actions to assure the lad's safety and wellbeing." The owl on his shoulder was likewise directing its enigmatic gaze at Robie. Slowly, disconcertingly, its head seemed to turn on its side, the eyes now one above the other. It then rotated the other way. Finally, it righted itself, seemingly unblinking the whole while.
Underneath the young one's cloak, something squirmed. There was a rustle of wool, before the head of a small bedraggled kitten popped out to stare challengingly at the two strangers. *Danger?* she queried her companions through their link.
Through a somewhat muddled but still vaguely intact group linkage, Ceroill sent comforting thoughts to the kitten. *Interruption, not danger. Sleep/heal. Calm.* While the owl Oberon sent * Possible danger, babycat hide/be safe/wait*.
The youth flinched visibly, sending back sparks of exhaustion/pain/confusion. The singing abruptly ceased, cut off by a groan as awareness began to filter into the lad's face. As if blurry vision wasn't bad enough, now it was worse. Where had these strangers come from ? And were there two, four or six ?
"Dinna worry, uncle", the lad said none too clearly, "I'll protect us". A thin arm emerged from under the cloak, the other arm shifting to better support the chest. Weakly waving a knife at the blurred figures of the strangers, he demanded waveringly, in a voice that proclaimed him to be emmasca, "Who be ye ? ... Thieves ? ... let us pass ... we've nothing ... 'tis 'colder than Zandru's Hells ... hurt ... need m'sister ...". The blade seemed somehow oddly familiar to one of the Guardsmen, though he had last seen it in a different hand while it was being cleaned by its owner in the barracks (and not very long ago either; it had been just before the Cadets had been dismissed for their Winter break).
'Uncle' steadied his young charge. "Now Liam, put that thing away. This is simply a pair of guardsmen doing their duty, we don't need any more trouble tonight." To the young officers:"Please forgive my young nephew here, he is a bit unsteady in mind and body for need of some healing. I just need to get him to my shop, and he will be fixed up." He thought these two looked a bit familliar, but he had trouble with names at times. He hoped that if they recognized him, it was as a harmless eccentric. Perhaps the reputation would come in handy for once.
Robie's eyes darted back and forth between the older man, the huddled young boy and that very strange owl perched on the man's shoulder. He could *sense* some sort of laran present and decided it might be best to be more on his guard than normal. "I would be happy to assist you sir" Robie said rather authoritatively, standing straighter. "I can see that your young charge is taxing.......and for some reason I feel I should know you or the young man."
The young cadet with Robie shifted from foot to foot as quietly as he could. He didn't want to fidget, but his toes were getting cold and he didn't want to anger Robie. That might mean more punishment.
Robie could sense the young cadet's conflicting emotions, but blocked him out. This pair before him was becoming more and more suspicious.
"You'd best get your patient inside sir" Robie replied, stepping back from the wretched youth. He nodded to the cadet and they separated, so that the man and his charge would have to walk between them. "If you don't get him inside soon, I would bet he'll be a lot sicker than he is."
"I thank you for your kind offer young man", Ceroill answered, "but as you say, I need to get the boy inside, and my place is not far now" He began leading Kay away.
Feeling Ceroill's tug as he started tugging her forwards, Kay groaned softly. Her feet weren't quite dragging -- but they weren't too far from it either. If not for his arm around her (and one of hers around him), she'd surely be sitting in the dirt right now. There was enough strength in her reserves to keep moving her feet -- but not enough to support (and balance) her own weight and the pair of burdens she carried under her cloak.