Too soon, it was morning again and there was work to do.
On the next Sabbath while they bathed, Stefan saw two eyes staring at him from behind a bush. He walked out of the water and tried to get a closer look, but Baodan wanted to dry off instead. Just when he was about to give up, a gray wolf ran from behind the bush, stopped, looked at him and took off again. For Kannak ye send a horse, for me it be a wolf, he thought. If only the wolf and the horse could speak.
The next day, they were taken to the river to gather rocks. It would have been easy to swim the river to the Macoran side, but the guards positioned themselves between the slaves and the water. Nevertheless, when he could, Stefan looked for Macorans on the other side. If they were there, they were well hidden. Even if they did see him, he was certain his straggly beard and hair would prevent anyone from recognizing him. He decided if he spotted one, he would chance the lash and cry out, but too soon, they were taken away. Someone had found another rock quarry.
At last the days began to lengthen, the winter had not been harsh and sometime between winter and spring, Stefan turned eighteen.
Surely by now Kannak was married and he should forget her - but he could not. He remembered her challenges, her dimples, the way she looked perturbed when he called her a wee bairn and the feel of her lips when he finally kissed her. He remembered every second of the days they had together and even longed to hear her call him a bletherskite. He was so close to her and still he could not reach her or get word to her. At last, he'd had enough of slavery and cared not if he lived or died. What was life without Kannak anyway?
*
Laird Limond came daily now that the work was progressing faster. He was pleased with his new home and eager to live in it. Yet each time he came, he sought out the location of the tall lad with the pleasing belt.
Stefan glared at him and when Laird Limond came closer, he finally spoke his mind. "Yer castle will fall."
Limond returned his glare, "Dare ye speak to me?"
"'Twill not last a year afore it falls."
Again Limond narrowed his eyes. "Do ye put a curse on it, Lad?"
"Nay, I speak the truth. It will crumble to the ground."
"Ye do curse it. I should have ye flogged for saying such as that." His anger remained in his eyes for a time and then his expression mellowed, "But I am not a cruel lad. I will have yer belt instead."