Free The Phoenix Unchained by James Mallory Page B

Harrier as if they were both just part of the landscape—and fell upon the food as if they’d been starving for sennights, though every single one of them looked plump and sleek. Cheese, sausages, bread, fruit, and even an entire pot of jam vanished within less than half a chime.
    Other things vanished too, or almost did.
    Tiercel only noticed when he saw first his coin-pouch, then his pen-case, appear in the Fauns’ hands. With a sigh, he collected both objects—the Fauns didn’t look particularly upset—and sat on them this time.
    “Hey! That’s my map!” Harrier wasn’t quite as calm about things. “And my eating knife! Give that back! That’s sharp!”
    “You can’t have those,” Tiercel said patiently, plucking the objects from the grasping hands of the Fauns. “They belong to my friend.”
    “Want to see—”
    “Want to touch.”
    “All gone anyway—”
    “—in the forest.”
    “Scary place.”
    “Dangerous.”
    “Dark.”
    “Dark and dangerous.”
    “Lose things in the forest.”
    “Why not here?”
    “Easier to find them here.”
    “Yes?”
    “No?”
    “Give me back my knife,” Harrier growled. Tiercel blinked, and realized that not only had he somehow managed to lose his grip on Harrier’s knife, he’d also managed to lose his own pen-case again.
    This was going too far. He got to his feet—at least he still had both coin-purses—and went over to the pack mule. Digging through one of the packs, he found a large bag of lump sugar. Harrier had packed it because—so he said—there were times when you just needed to bribe a mule. He hoped one of those times wouldn’t come up before they could replace it.
    “See what I’ve got?” he said, holding up the large paper sack invitingly. All the Fauns stopped and looked at him.
    “What?” one of them said.
    There was a chorus of “What’s?” It sounded like a flock of birds.
    “I’ve got candy,” Tiercel said temptingly. He hadn’t grown up as the eldest child in the Rolfort household without learning a thing or two about diplomacy and outright bribery. “And I’ll trade you.”
    A short time later, he’d traded pieces of lump sugar for Harrier’s knife and map, for his pen-case, for the empty jam jar, and for a couple of other things that the Fauns had gotten from their belts and pockets that the two boys hadn’t noticed at the time.
    “And I’ll give you the rest of the candy—look, it’s a whole sack—if you promise not to ever touch—or take—any of our things again.”
    All of the Fauns began chattering at once, but by now Tiercel was getting used to the way they talked, and could figure out what they wanted to know. For how long?
    “Forever,” he said firmly.
    He was pretty sure the Fauns wouldn’t get the idea if he said anything more equivocal. Or they’d find a way around it somehow.
    The deal was made, and Tiercel handed over the rest of the sack of sugar lumps. He was a little surprised that the Fauns didn’t fight over them, but they didn’t. They carefully shared out the contents of the sack equally. There was enough to go around. He’d counted before he’d offered it to them, taking out the extras and slipping them into his pocket.
    With their mouths stuffed full of candy—and obviously seeing no more entertainment to be gained from the strangers—the Fauns ran off over the hill and were quickly gone from sight. At least most of them did. Their leader—for lack of a better term—hung back, gazing at Tiercel and Harrier unreadably. He looked puzzled.
    “Other road,” he said firmly, pointing. Then he ran on to join the others.
    “Well, that was interesting,” Harrier said, getting up to retrieve his things from the saddlebag in which Tiercel had stashed them for safekeeping.
    “I think it was partly our fault,” Tiercel said. “If we’d told them not to touch anything before we offered them food, they probably would have behaved themselves. A little better, maybe.”
    “Huh,”