the ground. He made it all look somehow
… well … dashing.
He worked a hard half hour, at which
time Nettie came out of the house,
carrying a glass of water and a handful of
fat carrots with the loose greens still
attached. “I’m sure that’s at least six
carrots’ worth of work,” she said,
smiling at him.
Bast took the glass of water, drank half
of it, then bent over and poured the rest
over his head. He shook himself off a bit,
then stood back up, his dark hair curling
and clinging to his face. “Are you sure
there’s nothing else you could use a hand
with?” he asked, giving her an easy grin.
His eyes were dark and smiling and
bluer than the sky.
Nettie shook her head. Her hair was out
of her braid now, and when she looked
down, the loose curls of it fell partly
across her face. “I can’t think of
anything,” she said.
“I’m a dab hand with honey, too,” Bast
said, hoisting the axe to rest against his
naked shoulder.
She looked a little puzzled at that until
Bast nodded toward the wooden hives
scattered through the overgrown field.
“Oh,” she said, as if remembering a half-
forgotten dream. “I used to do candles
and honey. But we lost a few hives to
that bad winter three years back. Then
one to nits. Then there was that wet
spring and three more went down with
the chalk before we even knew.” She
shrugged. “Early this summer we sold
one to the Hestles so we’d have money
for the levy …”
She shook her head again, as if she’d
been daydreaming. She shrugged and
turned back to look at Bast. “Do you
know about bees?”
“A fair bit,” Bast said softly. “They
aren’t hard to handle. They just need
patience and gentleness.” He casually
swung the axe so it stuck in the nearby
stump. “They’re the same as everything
else, really. They just want to know
they’re safe.”
Nettie was looking out at the field,
nodding along with Bast’s words
unconsciously. “There’s only the two
left,” she said. “Enough for a few
candles. A little honey. Not much. Hardly
worth the bother, really.”
“Oh come now,” Bast said gently. “A
little sweetness is all any of us have
sometimes. It’s always worth it. Even if
it takes some work.”
Nettie turned to look at him. She met his
eyes now. Not speaking, but not looking
away either. Her eyes were like an open
door.
Bast smiled, gentle and patient, his
voice was warm and sweet as honey. He
held out his hand. “Come with me,” he
said. “I have something to show you.”
The sun was starting to sink toward the western trees by the time Bast returned to
the lightning tree. He was limping
slightly, and he had dirt in his hair, but he
seemed to be in good spirits.
There were two children at the bottom
of the hill, sitting on the greystone and
swinging their feet as if it were a huge
stone bench. Bast didn’t even have time
to sit down before they came up the hill
together.
It was Wilk, a serious boy of ten with
shaggy blond hair. At his side was his
little sister Pem, half his age with three
times the mouth.
The boy nodded at Bast as he came to
the top of the hill, then he looked down.
“You hurt your hand,” he said.
Bast looked down at his hand and was
surprised to see a few dark streaks of
blood dripping down the side of it. He
brought out his handkerchief and daubed
at it.
“What happened?” little Pem asked
him.
“I was attacked by a bear,” he lied
nonchalantly.
The boy nodded, giving no indication of
whether or not he believed it was true. “I
need a riddle that will stump Tessa,” the
boy said. “A good one.”
“You
smell
like
granda,”
Pem
chirruped as she came up to stand beside
her brother.
Wilk ignored her. Bast did the same.
“Okay,” said Bast. “I need a favor, I’ll
trade you. A favor for a riddle.”
“You smell like granda when he’s been
at his medicine,” Pem clarified.
“It has to be a good one though,” Wilk
stressed. “A stumper.”
“Show me something that’s never been
seen before and will never be seen
again,” Bast said.
“Hmmm …” Wilk said, looking
thoughtful.
“Granda says he feels loads better with
his medicine,” Pem said, louder, plainly
irritated at being ignored. “But Mum says
it’s not medicine. She says he’s on the
bottle. And granda says he feels loads
better so it’s medicine by dammit.” She
looked back and forth between Bast and
Wilk, as if daring them to scold her.
Neither of them did. She looked a little
crestfallen.
“That is a good one,” Wilk admitted at
last. “What’s the answer?”
Bast gave a slow grin. “What will you
trade me for it?”
Wilk cocked his head on one side, “I
already said. A favor.”
“I traded you the riddle for a favor,”
Bast said easily. “But now you’re asking
for the answer …”
Wilk looked confused for half a
moment, then his face went red and
angry. He drew a deep breath as if he
were going to shout. Then seemed to
think better of it and stormed down the
hill, stomping his feet.
His sister watched him go, then turned
back to Bast. “Your shirt is ripped,” she
said disapprovingly. “And you’ve got
grass stains on your pants. Your mam is
going to give you a hiding.”
“No she won’t,” Bast said smugly.
“Because I’m all grown, and I can do
whatever I want with my pants. I could
light them on fire and I wouldn’t get in
any trouble at all.”
The little girl stared at him with
smoldering envy.
Wilk stomped back up the hill. “Fine,”
he said sullenly.
“My favor first,” Bast said. He handed
the boy a small bottle with a cork in the
top. “I need you to fill this up with water
that’s been caught midair.”
“What?” Wilk said.
“Naturally falling water,” Bast said.
“You can’t dip it out of a barrel or a
stream. You have to catch it while it’s
still in the air.”
“Water falls out of a pump when yo
u
pump it …” Wilk said without any real
hope in his voice.
“Naturally falling water,” Bast said
again, stressing the first word. “It’s no
good if someone just stands on a chair
and pours it out of a bucket.”
“What do you need it for?” Pem asked
in her little piping voice.
“What will you trade me for the answer
to that question?” Bast said.
The little girl went pale and slapped
one hand across her mouth.
“It might not rain for days, ” Wilk said.
Pem gave a gusty sigh. “It doesn’t have
to be rain,” his sister said, her voice
dripping with condescension. “You
could just go to the waterfall by
Littlecliff and fill the bottle there.”
Wilk blinked.
Bast grinned at her. “You’re a clever
girl.”
She rolled her eyes, “Everybody says
that …”
Bast brought out something from his
pocket and held it. It was a green
cornhusk wrapped around a daub of
sticky honeycomb. The little girl’s eyes
lit up when she saw it.
“I also need twenty-one perfect
acorns,” he said. “No holes, with all
their little hats intact. If you gather them
for me over by the waterfall, I’ll give
you this.”
She nodded eagerly. Then both she and
her brother hurried down the hill.
Bast went back down to the pool by the
spreading willow and took another bath.
It wasn’t his usual bathing time, so there
were no birds waiting, and as a result the
bath was much more matter-of-fact than
before.
He quickly rinsed himself clean of
sweat and honey and he daubed a bit at
his clothes too, scrubbing to get rid of the
grass stains and the smell of whiskey.
The cold water stung the cuts on his
knuckles a bit, but they were nothing
serious and would mend well enough on
their own.
Naked and dripping, he pulled himself
from the pool and found a dark rock, hot
from the long day of sun. He draped his
clothes over it and let them bake dry
while he shook his hair dry and stripped
the water from his arms and chest with
his hands.
Then he made his way back to the
lightning tree, picked a long piece of
grass
to
chew
on,
and
almost
immediately fell asleep in the golden
afternoon sunlight.
Evening: Lessons
Hours later, the evening shadows
stretched to cover Bast, and he shivered
himself awake.
He sat up, rubbing his face and looking
around blearily. The sun was just
beginning to brush the tops of the western
trees. Wilk and Pem hadn’t returned, but
that was hardly a surprise. He ate the
piece of honeycomb he’d promised Pem,
licking his fingers slowly. Then he
chewed the wax idly and watched a pair
of hawks turn lazy circles in the sky.
Eventually he heard a whistle from the
trees. He got to his feet and stretched, his
body bending like a bow. Then he
sprinted down the hill … except, in the
fading light it didn’t quite look like a
sprint.
If he were a boy of ten, it would have
looked like skipping. But he was no boy.
If he were a goat, it would have looked like he were prancing. But he was no
goat. A man headed down the hill that
quickly, it would have looked like he
were running.
But there was something odd about
Bast’s motion in the fading light.
Something hard to describe. He almost
looked
like
he
were
…
what?
Frolicking? Dancing?
Small matter. Suffice to say that he
quickly made his way to the edge of the
clearing where Rike stood in the growing
dark beneath the trees.
“I’ve got it,” the boy said triumphantly,
he held up his hand, but the needle was
invisible in the dark.
“You borrowed it?” Bast asked. “Not
traded or bargained for it?”
Rike nodded.
“Okay,” Bast said. “Follow me.”
The two of them walked over to the
greystone, Rike following wordlessly
when Bast climbed up one side of the
half-fallen stone. The sunlight was still
strong there, and both of them had plenty
of space to stand on the broad back of the
tilted greystone. Rike looked around
anxiously, as if worried someone might
see him.
“Let’s see the stone,” Bast said.
Rike dug into his pocket and held it out
to Bast.
Bast pulled his hand back suddenly, as
if the boy had tried to hand him a
glowing coal. “Don’t be stupid,” he
snapped. “It’s not for me. The charm is
only going to work for one person. Do
you want that to be me?”
The boy brought his hand back and eyed
the stone. “What do you mean one
person?”
“It’s the way of charms,” Bast said.
“They only work for one person at a
time.” Seeing the boy’s confusion written
plainly on his face, Bast sighed. “You
know how some girls make come-hither
charms, hoping to catch a boy’s eye?”
Rike nodded, blushing a little.
“This is the opposite,” Bast said. “It’s a
go-thither charm. You’re going to prick
your finger, get a drop of your blood on
it, and that will seal it. It will make
things go away.”
Rike looked down at the stone. “What
sort of things?” he said.
“Anything that wants to hurt you,” Bast
said easily. “You can just keep it in your
pocket, or you can get a piece of cord—”
“It will make my da leave?” Rike
interrupted.
Bast frowned. “That’s what I said.
You’re his blood. So it will push him
away more strongly than anything else.
You’ll probably want to hang it around
your neck so—”
“What about a bear?” Rike asked,
looking at the stone thoughtfully. “Would
it make a bear leave me alone?”
Bast made a back-and-forth motion
with his hand. “Wild things are
different,” he said. “They’re possessed
of pure desire. They don’t want to hurt
you. They usually want food, or safety. A
bear would—”
“Can I give it to my mum?” Rike
interrupted again, looking up at Bast. His
dark eyes serious.
“… want to protect its terr … What?”
Bast stumbled to a halt.
“My mum should have it,” Rike said.
>
“What if I was off away with the charm
and my da came back?”
“He’s going farther away than that,”
Bast said, his voice thick with certainty.
“It’s not like he’ll be hiding around the
corner at the smithy …”
Rike’s face was set now, his pug nose
making him seem all the more stubborn.
He shook his head. “She should have it.
She’s important. She has to take care of
Tess and little Bip.”
“It will work just fine—”
“It’s got to be for HER!” Rike shouted,
his hand making a fist around the stone.
“You said it could be for one person, so
you make it be for her!”
Bast scowled at the boy darkly. “I don’t
like your tone,” he said grimly. “You
asked me to make your da go away. And
that’s what I’m doing …”
“But what if it’s not enough?” Rike’s
face was red.
“It will be,” Bast said, absentmindedly
rubbing his thumb across the knuckles of
his hand. “He’ll go far away. You have
my word—”
“NO!” Rike said, his face going red and
angry. “What if sending him isn’t
enough? What if I grow up like my da? I
get so …” His voice choked off, and his
eyes started to leak tears. “I’m not good.
I know it. I know better than anyone. Like
you said. I got his blood in me. She needs
to be safe from me. If I grow up twisted
up and bad, she needs the charm to …
she needs something to make me go a—”
Rike clenched his teeth, unable to
continue.
Bast reached out and took hold of the
boy’s shoulder. He was stiff and rigid as
a plank of wood, but Bast gathered him
in and put his arms around his shoulders.
Gently, because he had seen the boy’s
back. They stood there for a long
moment, Rike stiff and tight as a
bowstring, trembling like a sail tight
against the wind.
“Rike,” Bast said softly. “You’re a
good boy. Do you know that?”
The boy bent then, sagged against Bast
and seemed like he would break himself
apart with sobbing. His face was pressed
into Bast’s stomach and he said
something, but it was muffled and
disjointed. Bast made a soft crooning
sound of the sort you’d use to calm a
horse or soothe a hive of restless bees.
The storm passed, and Rike stepped
quickly away and scrubbed at his face
roughly with his sleeve. The sky was just
starting to tinge red with sunset.
“Right,” Bast said. “It’s time. We’ll
make it for your mother. You’ll have to
The Lightning Tree Page 7