But they were in the Holy House, and the man was an elder. Honour dictated that Relan show Aric deference and respect.
Relan closed his eyes, embracing his anger. His shoulders relaxed. He gave a shallow bow. ‘You do not disgust me, Aric Bogger. You are humble before Everam. I see you here honouring Him every dawn.’
The words were meant to calm the situation, but they seemed to have the opposite effect as Aric thrust his cane down with a thump, surging to his feet.
‘I am humble before the Creator, Relan Damaj.’ Aric shifted his grip on his cane, raising it between them. ‘I spit on your Everam.’
He hawked his throat, and Relan had enough. He closed the distance between them in an instant, his left hand effortlessly twisting the cane from Aric’s grasp as his right darted in like a hummingbird to flick across the greybeard’s throat.
Aric coughed as the phlegm caught in his throat, stumbling back a step before he caught himself on the pews. He didn’t seem hurt, but his face went all red as he hacked and wheezed.
‘I wish no quarrel with you, Aric son of Aric of the Bogger clan of Bogton,’ Relan said, ‘but I will not stand by and let you spit on the floor of the Creator’s house.’
Aric looked as if he might lunge at him, but Relan pointed the cane, checking the move.
‘What’s going on here?!’ Briar turned to see Tender Heath gripping the front of his brown robes as he strode to the scene. Heath was not a threatening man, round-faced and round-bellied. He brewed the town ale, and was more apt to laugh than to scold, tending bar as much as he tended his flock.
But they saw Holy Men differently in Krasia. Relan stiffened, then dipped into a low bow. He gave a hiss, and his family joined him in bowing to the Tender. So much as a wilful eye would get them the strap and worse.
Relan twirled the cane, offering it handle-first for Aric to snatch. The old man looked as if he might strike Relan on his exposed neck, but a stern glance from the Tender checked him.
‘A misunderstanding only, Tender,’ Relan said. ‘I was explaining to the son of Aric that we pray to the same Creator, whether He is called Everam or not.’
Heath crossed his meaty arms. ‘That may be, but the Holy House is a place of peace and succour, Relan. We do not explain things at the end of a cane.’
Relan dropped smoothly to his knees, putting his hands and forehead on the floor in supplication. ‘Of course the Tender is correct. I apologize and will accept penance.’
‘Ay, give it to him, Tender,’ Aric said, as the others in the room watched the scene. ‘Stinking mudskin hit me.’
Heath looked at him. ‘Don’t think I don’t know it was your fool mouth that started it, Aric Bogger. I catch you using the M word or try to spit in the Holy House again, you and yours are going to have empty cups at the next Solstice festival.’
Aric paled. The only thing Boggers loved more than the Creator was Heath’s ale.
Tender Heath gave a sweep of his arm. ‘Now into the pews, the lot of you. Time we started services, and I’m feeling quite a sermon coming.’
‘Mistress Dawn!’ a call came, breaking the silence as they filed from the Holy House. Briar looked up to see Tami Bales running up the road. Tami was only a year older than Briar, but the Damaj children weren’t allowed to play with the Baleses since Tami’s father, Masen, called Relan a desert rat at the Solstice festival. Relan would have broken his arm if the other men hadn’t pulled them apart.
Tami’s dress was splattered with mud and red with blood. Briar knew bloodstains when he saw them. Any Animal Gatherer’s child did. Dawn ran out to meet the girl, and Tami collapsed in her arms, panting for breath. ‘Mistress … y-you have to save …’
‘Who?’ Dawn demanded. ‘Who’s been hurt? Corespawn it, girl, what’s happened?’
‘Corelings,’ Tami gasped.
‘Creator.’ Dawn drew a ward in the air. ‘Whose blood is this?’ She pulled at the still-damp fabric of the girl’s dress.
‘Maybell,’ Tami said.
Dawn’s nose wrinkled. ‘The cow?’
Tami nodded. ‘Stuck her head over the pen, blocking one of the wardposts. Field demon clawed her neck. Pa says she’s gonna get demon fever and went for his axe. Please, you need to come or he’ll put her down.’
Dawn blew out a breath, shaking her head and chuckling. Tami looked ready to cry.
‘I’m sorry, girl,’ Dawn said. ‘Don’t mean to belittle. I know stock feels like part of the family sometimes. You just had me thinking it was one of your brothers or sisters got cored. I’ll do what I can. Run and tell your pa to hold his stroke.’
She looked to Relan and the others. ‘Girls, get home and finish the washing. Boys, help your father haul the collection cart. Briar, I’ll need to brew a sleep draught …’
‘Skyflower and tampweed,’ Briar nodded.
‘Cut generously,’ Dawn said. ‘Takes a lot more to put down a cow than a person. We’ll need hogroot poultices as well.’
Briar nodded. ‘I know what to get.’
‘Meet me in Masen Bales’ yard,’ Dawn said. ‘Quick as you can.’
Briar ran off home, darting through the herb garden like a jackrabbit, then blowing through the kitchen like a breeze, snatching Dawn’s mortar and pestle. He was on his way down the road before his siblings even got home.
He caught up with Dawn just as she was getting to the Bales farm with Tami. Already, he could hear Maybell’s bleats of pain.
Masen Bales came out to meet them. He was carrying an axe. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Briar, and he spat some of the tobacco he was chewing. ‘Thanks for coming, Gatherer. Think you’re wasting a trip, though. Animal ent gonna make it.’
He led the way to the barn. The heifer was lying on the straw floor of her pen, neck wrapped in heavy cloth soaked through with blood. Masen Bales ran his thumb along the edge of his axe. Tami and her siblings crowded around the cow protectively, though none were large enough to stop their father if he decided it was Maybell’s time.
Dawn lifted the cloth to look at the animal’s wounds – three deep grooves in Maybell’s thick neck.
Masen spat again. ‘Meant to put the animal down quick and sell her to the butcher, but the kids begged me to wait till you came.’
‘It’s good you did,’ Dawn said. ‘This ent too bad, if we can stave off the infection.’ She turned to the crowd of children. ‘I’ll need more cloth for bandages, buckets of clean water and a boiling kettle.’ The children looked at her blankly until she clapped her hands, making them all jump. ‘Now!’
As the children ran off, Briar laid out his mother’s tools and began crushing the herbs for the sleeping draught and poultices. Getting the animal to drink was difficult, but soon Maybell was fast asleep, and Dawn cleaned out the wounds and inserted a thin paste of crushed herbs before stitching them closed.
Tami stood next to Briar, horrified. Briar had seen his mother work before, but he knew how scary it must seem. He reached out, taking Tami’s hand, and she looked at him, smiling bravely in thanks as she squeezed tightly.
Masen had been watching Dawn work as well, but he glanced at Tami and did a double take, pointing his axe at Briar. ‘Ay, get your muddy hands off my daughter, you little rat!’
Briar snatched his hand away in an instant. His mother stood, moving calmly between them as she wiped the blood from her hands. ‘Ent going to need that axe any more, Masen, so I’d appreciate you not pointing it at my boy.’
Masen looked at the weapon in surprise, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. He grunted and dropped the head, leaning it against the fence. ‘Wasn’t going to do anything.’
Dawn pursed her lips. ‘That’ll be twenty shells.’
Masen gaped. ‘Twenty shells?! For stitching a cow?’
‘Ten for the stitching,’ Dawn said, ‘and ten for the sleep draught and hogroot poultices my rat son made.’
‘I won’t pay it,’ Masen said. ‘Neither you nor your mud-skinned husband can make me.’
> ‘I don’t need Relan for that,’ Dawn said, smiling, ‘though we both know he could make you. No, all I need is to tell Marta Speaker you won’t pay, and Maybell will be grazing in my yard before tomorrow.’
Masen glared. ‘You ent been right in the head since you married that desert rat, Dawn. Already cost all your human custom. Lucky to get animal work these days, but that won’t last when folk hear you’re charging twenty shells for it.’
Briar’s nostrils flared. If Relan was there, he would break Masen’s nose for speaking to his mother so disrespectfully. But Relan wasn’t there, so it was Briar’s responsibility.
His eyes ran over Masen Bales as he recalled the sharusahk lessons he had watched Relan give his brothers. Masen had a weak knee, always complaining about it when the weather was damp. One well-placed kick there …
Without turning, Dawn made her voice a stern murmur only the children could hear. ‘Don’t think your mum don’t know what you’re thinking, Briarpatch. You mind your hands and mouth.’
Briar flushed, putting his hands in his pockets as Dawn crossed her arms and took a step towards Masen. ‘That’s Mistress Dawn to you, Masen Bales, and now it’s twenty-five. Call one more name, I’ll go see Marta right now.’
Masen began muttering curses, but he stomped off to the house, coming back with a worn leather bag. He counted the smooth lacquered shells into Dawn’s hand. ‘Fifteen … sixteen … seventeen. That’s all I got right now, Mistress. You’ll have the rest in a week. Honest word.’
‘I’d better,’ Dawn said. ‘Come along, Briar.’
The two of them walked down the road until they came to the fork, one way leading to their home, the other to the rest of town.
‘You were very brave today, Briar,’ his mother said.
‘Wasn’t right, what he said,’ Briar said.
She waved a hand. ‘Wasn’t talking about that fool-headed Masen Bales. Meant in the yard this morning.’
Briar shook his head. ‘Wasn’t brave. Almost peed my pants I was so scared.’
‘But you didn’t,’ Dawn said. ‘Didn’t scream or run away, didn’t faint. That’s all brave is. When you’re scared, but keep your wits about you. Relan says you held up better than your brothers.’
‘Really?’ Briar asked.
‘Really.’ Dawn narrowed her eyes. ‘You stir trouble by tellin’ ’em I told you that, though, and it’ll be the strap.’
Briar swallowed. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’
Dawn laughed and put her arms around him, squeezing tightly. ‘Know you won’t, poppet. I’m so proud of you. You run off now. Enjoy the sun for a few hours, like your da promised. I’ll see you at supper.’ She smiled and pressed a handful of shells into his hand.
‘In case you want to buy a meat pie and some sugar candy.’
Briar felt a thrill as he made his way into town, running his fingers over the smooth lacquer of the shells. He’d never had money of his own before, and had to suppress a whoop of glee.
He went to the butcher shop, where Mrs Butcher sold hot meat pies, and laid a shell on the counter.
Mrs Butcher looked at him suspiciously. ‘Where’d you get that shell, Mudboy? You steal it?’
Briar shook his head. ‘Mother gave it to me for helping her save Tami Bales’ cow.’
Mrs Butcher grunted and took the shell, handing him a steaming pie in return.
He went next to the sugarmaker, who fixed a glare on Briar the moment he came into the shop. His look did not soften until Briar produced a pair of shells to pay for the candies he collected from the display, all wrapped in twisted corn husks. These he stuffed in his pockets, eating the meat pie as he walked back out of town. The sun was bright on his shoulders, and it felt warm and safe. The memory of the wood demon snarling at him seemed a distant thing.
He walked down to the lake and watched the fishing boats for a time. It was a clear day, and he could just make out Lakton in the distance, the great city floating far out on the lake. He followed the shoreline, skipping stones across the water.
He stopped short, spotting a pair of webbed tracks in the mud left by a bank demon. He imagined the frog-like creature leaping onto the shore and catching him with its long sticky tongue. The tracks made him shiver, and suddenly he had to pee desperately. He barely lowered his pants in time, thankful there was no one to see.
‘Brave,’ he muttered to himself, knowing the lie for what it was.
Late in the afternoon, Briar hid behind the house and pulled out one of the sugar candies. He unwrapped the treasure and chewed slowly, savouring every bite as his father did with bacon.
‘Ay, Briarpatch!’ a voice called. Briar looked up to see Hardey and Hale approaching.
‘Where’d you get that candy?’ Hale called, balling a fist.
‘We get to haul trash all day, and he gets extra bacon and candy?’ Hardey asked.
‘Don’t think that’s right, do you?’ Hale said.
Briar knew this game. All the boys in Bogton knew to step lightly when the twins started asking each other questions.
His mind ran through all the things he might say, but he knew none of them would make any difference. His brothers were going to knock him down and take the candy, promising worse if he told their parents.
He ran. Over the woodpiles, quick as a hare, and then cut through the laundry lines as his brothers charged after him. Sunny and Sky were collecting the clean wash in baskets, and he barely missed running into them.
‘Ay, watch it, Briarpatch!’ Sky shouted.
‘Stop him, he’s got candy!’ he heard Hardey cry. Briar dodged around a hanging sheet and kept low as he doubled back around the house, running into the bog out back.
He could hear the others close behind, but the trees were thick before the ground became too damp, giving cover as he made for the goldwood tree where the wood demon rose. Briar had climbed the goldwood a hundred times and, knew every knot and branch. He swung up into its boughs like he was a wood demon himself, then froze and held his breath. The others ran by, and Briar counted fifty breaths before he dared move.
There was a small hollow where the branches met. Briar packed the candy in dry leaves and left it hidden there, praying to the Creator it would not rain. Then he dropped back to the ground and ran home.
At supper, his brothers and sisters watched him like a cat watches a mouse. Briar kept close to his mother until bedtime.
No sooner had the door to the tiny room the three boys shared closed, than the twins pinned him on the floor of their room, digging through his pockets and searching his bed.
‘Where’d you hide them, Briarpatch?’ Hardey demanded, sitting hard on his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.
‘It was just the one, and I ate it!’ Briar struggled, but he was wise enough not to raise his voice. A shout might get his brothers the strap, but it would go worse for him.
Eventually the boys gave up, giving him a last shake and going to bed. ‘This ent over, Briarpatch,’ Hardey said. ‘Catch you with it later, you’ll be eating dirt.’
They were soon asleep, but Briar’s heart was still thumping, and out in the yard demons shrieked as they tested the wards. Briar couldn’t sleep through the sound, flinching at every cry and flash of magic. Hale kicked him under the covers. ‘Quit squirming, Briarpatch, or I’ll lock you out on the porch for the night.’
Briar shuddered, and again felt an overwhelming urge to empty his bladder. He got out of bed and stumbled into the hall to find the privy. It was pitch black in the house, but that had never bothered Briar before. He had blindly fumbled his way to the curtain countless times.
But it was different tonight. There was a demon in the house. Briar couldn’t say how he knew, but he sensed it lurking in the darkness, waiting for its chance to pounce.
Briar could feel his heart pounding like a festival drum and began to sweat, though the night was cool. It was suddenly hard for him to breathe, as if Hardey were still sitting on his chest. There was a rustling sou
nd ahead, and Briar yelped, literally jumping. He looked around and it seemed he could make out a dim shape moving in the darkness.
Terrified, he turned and ran for the common room. The fire had burned down, but a few pumps of the bellows had an open flame, and Briar fed it carefully with bricks of peat from the pile until it filled the room with light. Shadows fled, and with them the hiding places of the demons.
The room was empty.
Baby Briar, scared of nothing, his brothers and sisters liked to sing. Briar hated himself, but his leg would not stop shaking. He couldn’t go back to bed. He would piss on the covers and the twins would kill him. He couldn’t go down the hall to the privy in the dark. The very thought terrified him. He could sleep here, by the fire, or …
Briar slipped across the common to the door of his parents’ room.
Never open the door if the bed is creaking, his mother had said, but Briar listened closely, and the bed was quiet. He turned the latch and slipped quietly inside, closing the door behind him. He crawled up the centre of the bed, nestling himself between his parents. His mother put her arms about him, and Briar fell deep asleep.
It was still dark when he awoke to screaming. His parents started upright, taking poor Briar with them. All of them took a reflexive breath, and started to cough and choke.
There was smoke everywhere. His parents were both touching him, but he couldn’t see them at all. Everything was a grey blur even worse than darkness.
‘Down!’ his mother croaked, pulling Briar with her as she slid off the bed. ‘Smoke rises! The air will be better by the floorboards.’ There was a thump as his father rolled out of bed on the far side, crawling over to them.
‘Take Briar out the window,’ Relan said, coughing into his hand. ‘I’ll get the others and follow.’
‘Into the night?!’ Dawn asked.
‘We cannot stay here, beloved,’ Relan said. ‘The wardposts in the herb garden are strong. It’s only twenty yards from the house. You can make it if you are quick.’
Messenger’s Legacy Page 2