He opened his eyes a slit and saw a hand moving away from the pommel of his dagger. His own hand reached out quickly and grasped that other hand. A piece of chalk dropped out of it.
Fiz said, “I wasn’t doing anything.”
Guilhem opened his eyes fully and said, “We’ll see about that.” He looked at his dagger. Its beautiful flat pommel was now decorated with a very silly and rude picture.
Fiz twisted his wrist and freed himself, and then scrambled down the hillside. Fiz was remarkably good at negotiating impossibly steep slopes in a great hurry, Guilhem thought. He himself was not half mountain goat. So he stood there, arms crossed, looking dour.
When Fiz was out of sight, the boy looked back at where the knight was invisible and smiled, a big, goofy smile. That was a good moment, when he
