Garinor decided that if he was going to get into the camp, this would be the best time. There were so few people around; it was unlikely any of them would spot him. He made his way around the hillside and crept into the encampment with hardly any sound at all.
The tents set up around the perimeter provided him a series of places to hide. He ducked behind one and peered around it, then dashed to the next one. It was easy going.
The five people he had seen from the hilltop kept very busy. Some of them were still cleansing the bandages that would be used to tend the wounded. Those chopping splints and crutches kept at it. A fifth woman walked around the campsite, picking at the various foliage she saw along the way. These she brought to a flat log upon which she started cutting and chopping the green leaves.
Garinor wound his way around the edge of the camp, drawing ever closer to the shimmery tent. He knew it had to be the prince’s tent, and if he could get inside, he could ambush the prince when he returned and make him stop what he was doing.
As Garinor neared the fancy tent, the two men working on the wood branches finished their task and started walking toward his hiding place. There wasn’t anywhere for Garinor to go if either one of them opted to come behind the tent. He held his breath in anticipation.
One man entered the tent and rummaged around for a few minutes, while the other man went out of Garinor’s sight. Garinor looked behind himself, wondering if the man might come around from there, but there was no sign of him.
The sun was high overhead and Garinor cast a slight shadow onto the side of the tent. The man inside must have seen it because he started calling out in annoyance. “Come on, get away, go on. You got your own stuff to do without trying to sneak up on me. Now get!”
He must have thought the other man was toying with him. Garinor didn’t press his luck, he moved immediately to the next tent, which put him one move away from the prince’s pavilion.
From behind him, Garinor could hear another voice, “What are you yammering about? I’m over here, you idiot.”
“You—what? Then who made that shadow?”
Those were not words Garinor wanted to hear. The tent flap was thrown open and the man emerged and walked behind the tent. Garinor didn’t sit idly in his new hiding place. He moved ahead and bent low behind the prince’s tent.
He wasn’t used to wearing a short sword at his hip, though, and the scabbard caught on the tent rope and it snagged. His feet scuffled in the dirt as he tried to keep himself from falling, but the scabbard kept him off balance and he hit the dirt with a thud.
The man heard it and ran around the other tent and found him lying there face down on the ground. “Intruder!” The others all raced over while the man reached down and pulled Garinor up to his feet.
He tossed Garinor out from behind the prince’s tent. The man grabbed the short sword from Garinor’s scabbard and set its tip against the boy’s heart.
His arms tensed. “This will teach you to try to assassinate the prince!”
Garinor heard the prince’s tent flap open and a new voice called out, “Stop! The prince would not want him harmed!”
But it was too late. The man had already exacted his own form of justice, and Garinor lay still at his feet.