Ser Lorry stared at the boy as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head, but Dandweel was already on the ground, his boots sinking into the muck with a heavy, indifferent squelch.
Vilon blinked, his puffy eyes moving from the two armored giants to the boy in the silk-sleeved tunic. He looked at the mud-slicked path and then back at Basil's pristine cuffs.
"You'll get the earth on you, my lord," Vilon cautioned, his voice cracking. "Are you sure?"
"Mud can be scraped off with a wet cloth, Ser. A burden like this, however, tends to stick if you carry it alone," Basil replied, flashing that encouraging smile he'd seen his mother use on stubborn diplomats. "Besides, it seems you're not quite a giant yet. Could you not have dug the pit a bit closer?"
Vilon let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sob. "The notion came to me ten minutes too late, I'm afraid. I thank you, Sers, and your Lordship. I doubt I'd have finished before the moon was high."
