Wolf Boy, Chapter 12, Part I

All Panfilo’s people—he avoided referring to them as courtiers directly in his thoughts but the idea was there—got together to arrange his departure from the ship.

When the ship docked at Earth Space Station, Pan and Kaiden disembarked through the supplies passage hook-up. They wore EVA suits and debouched in a service area near the shuttles. From there, personnel got them quickly on-board a shuttle holding mostly station crew who paid them no attention.

Pan had said farewell to Quin and Allec on the ship. They approved Pan’s decision to speak to Will. They planned to meet up in a few weeks’ time. They didn’t seem dismayed by Pan and Kaiden’s decision to travel without an escort.

Quin had spent nearly half his life on Mars. Allec had never been to Earth. On the planet and the station, teenagers held jobs. They traveled between hubs and tiers and from the station to the planet by themselves. Quin and Allec were used to “young people” who acted on their own.

So Pan assumed until he spotted the same man and woman on the train to Northumbria as he’d seen on the shuttle from New LaGuardia. The two carried no luggage, unlike Kaiden who swung the bag he and Pan shared over one shoulder. The woman and man were tall and svelte and moved without making eye contact with passengers or with each other.

Kaiden spotted the "other" bodyguards on the caravan to Bamburgh Castle.

“Not exactly the type of people who worship saints,” he said.

Maybe. Maybe not. Pan wasn’t sure what constituted such a type. Pan had met Francesca Paraclete eight years earlier when she came to Mars with her Congregation to investigate a citizen up for sainthood. Francesca was a woman of medium height with dark hair that she wore in a bob, not a hair out of place. She had a kind of aristocratic face and a remote aura. A woman to emulate if one had to, for example, face down a queen. She was more likely to be a saint than to worship one.

But maybe Francesca prayed earnestly to a dozen saints. Beliefs were personal things, like the thoughts about princehood and leadership that Pan kept to himself.

Which didn’t mean Kaiden didn’t have a point. The svelte man and woman didn’t match the other passengers on the caravan, the ones who obviously worshiped at least one saint. A group of three in the corner were discussing scriptures. A few others were holding reliquaries and ampullae, bottles for holy liquids. One was reciting a story about Saint Margaret of the Northern Seas.

Saint Margaret had been recently canonized (because of Francesca and her Congregation) and the first official pilgrimage from Bamburgh Castle to Runcorn Abbey started that week. Since the journey crossed several kingdoms, the pilgrims had pre-approved travel arrangements.

Not that getting around the British kingdoms was difficult due to scores of treaties and agreements. But some caravans and hostelries demanded check-ins. Those on the official pilgrimage would be escorted the entire way, with detours to important related sites.

Sites relating to Saint Bettelin, the saint with the wolf child, were nearer Runcorn Abbey. But Francesca and her people, including Will, were currently at Bamburgh Castle to attend the pilgrimage’s send off.

(“Kick start,” Rhys called it.

“Launch,” said Lider.)

Kaiden eyed the svelte man and woman. “Not assassins, I guess.”

“Figure I’d be dead by now if they were.”

“Give me some credit.”

“They’re probably armed.”

Kaiden scowled. He’d asked for weapons but carrying even an old-fashioned handgun would involve delays at checkpoints. Which meant the man and the woman weren’t only security—they were official, sanctioned security. A mirror to the pilgrims: armed people with a purpose.

Pan found he didn’t mind having an armed escort and leaned back to watch greenery pass.