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She sits in a chair next to his and replies, “It gives me something to do and if it helps out, then all the better. I like sewing, and making these lets me feel useful.”

“I know what you mean,” he says. “You’d make a good seamstress.”

“You think so?” she asks.

“Of course,” he assures her. “The stitching you’ve done on the teddy bears I’ve seen thus far is quite excellent.”

“Thank you,” she says, blushing slightly. Getting up, she adds, “I just wanted to show you what I’ve been doing.” When she sees his nod, she returns back to her room.

James once more gazes out the window as he lets his mind wander. He’ll be glad when the Fire is hidden, that’s the major worry on his mind. After that, find someway to sneak into Saragon to look for clues as to the whereabouts of a priesthood that disappeared centuries ago. He really doubts if there is anything left that would tell him anything, but what else does he have to go on? How long have I been here and I still know very little about why I’m here? At times he wonders if he’ll ever go home again.

Chapter Twelve

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He moves through the house in the dark of night, light from the moon overhead filters in through the windows giving everything a surreal feel. Snores can be heard throughout from those asleep in the various rooms. He walks softly so as not to risk waking anyone as he makes his way to the kitchen. Moving extra cautiously through the darkened room, he maneuvers around obstacles by touch until his hand comes into contact with the unmistakable shape of the door handle.

Turning the handle, he opens the door slowly to prevent it from making any noise that might disturb those asleep in the house. Slipping outside, he quietly closes the door behind him. He pauses there a moment when he catches movement from the corner of his eye. The night’s sentry is moving out in the dark, going about his patrol. Which one of the newcomers is hard to tell.

Whoever is walking guard duty this evening fails to notice him as they continue on by. He holds still, barely daring to breathe until he sees the sentry pass around the far side of the workshop. Moving quickly, he makes his way to the barn where he locates a shovel. Pausing a moment to make sure the guard hasn’t returned yet, he quickly crosses over to the chicken coop.

The chickens are all roosting inside the coop area, the outer pen is empty. Lifting the latch on the door leading to the pen, he opens it and slips inside where he secures the latch closed.

Moving to the center of the pen, his foot accidentally kicks over a water trough and he can hear some of the chickens within the coop begin to rouse from the clatter it made. He holds still and quiet until the chickens once more settle down and is about to start digging when he sees the guard’s silhouette approaching.

He waits until the guard once more passes out of sight and then places the end of the shovel to the ground. Pressing down firmly with his foot, he digs out a chunk of dirt. He places it next to the hole and then scoops four more times before the guard again can be seen approaching. Remaining still, he watches as the guard passes by no more than a dozen yards away. After the guard again passes out of sight, he continues digging. The pile of dirt next to the hole steadily grows as he digs deeper until his shovel finally hits something hard.

Widening the hole a little more, he reaches down with his hand and can feel the top of the box buried there. Using the shovel as a pry bar, he removes the box from the ground. It’s a small wooden box, not very big. After pausing one more time to wait for the guard to pass by, he then fills in the hole with the pile of dirt. He places the watering trough he had knocked over earlier on top of the recently excavated ground to camouflage what he’s just done. He then picks up the box.

With the box tucked under his arm, he leaves the chicken coop and makes his way back to the side of the house just as the guard again comes into view.