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a girl wemust train up the girls, for all that fellows like Dag disapprove,
because if ever our camps are attacked, it ll be us and the old men defending
them. I got string-bound, got blood-bound had my children, that is and then
went back to patrolling. I expect to keep walking till my luck or my legs give
out, five more years or ten, but I don t care to deal with anything more
fractious than a patrol, thank you. Then back to camp and play with my
grandchildren and their children till it s time to share. It will do, as a
life.
Fawn s brow wrinkled. Did you ever imagine another? Or being thrown into
another, as Fawn had been?
Mari cocked her head. Can t say as I ever did. Though I d have my boy back
first if I were given wishes.
How many children did you have?
Five, Mari replied, with distinct maternal pride that sounded plenty
farmerish to Fawn, for all she suspected Mari would deny any such thing.
A rap on the door was followed by Dag s plaintive voice: Mari, can I please
come back in now?
Mari rolled her eyes. All right.
Dag eased himself around the door. How is she doing? Is she healing at all?
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Could you match grounds? Or do a little reinforcement, even?
She s healing as well as could be expected. I did nothing with my ground,
because time and rest will do the job every bit as well.
Dag took this in, seeming a bit disappointed, but resigned. I have you a
room, Spark, down one floor. Tired?
Exhausted, she realized. She nodded.
Well, I ll take you down and you can start in on the resting part,
leastways.
Mari rubbed her lips and studied her nephew through narrowed eyes.
Groundsense. Fawn wondered what the patrol leader had seen with hers that she
wasn t saying. Did closed mouths run in the Redwing family like golden eyes?
Fawn rolled up her bedroll and let Dag shoo her out.
Don t let Mari scare you, Dag said, letting his left arm drift along at her
back, whether protectively or for subtle concealment Fawn could not tell, as
they descended the stairs. They turned into the adjoining corridor.
She didn t, much. I liked her. Fawn took a breath. Some secrets took up too
much space to keep tiptoeing around. She told me a little more about your
wife, andWolfRidge . She thought I needed to know.
Silence stretched for three long footfalls. She s right.
And that, evidently, was all Fawn was going to get for now.
Fawn s new room was narrow like Mari s, except this one overlooked the main
street instead of the stable yard. A washstand with ewer already filled,
piecework curtains and a quilt in a matching pattern, and rag rugs on the
floor made it fine and homey to Fawn s eyes. A door in the side wall
apparently led into the next chamber. Dag swung the bar across and shoved it
down into its brackets.
Where is your room? Fawn asked.
Dag gestured at the closed door. Through there.
Oh, good. Will you take a rest? Don t tell me you aren t owed some healing
too. I saw your bruises.
He shook his head. I m going out to find a harnessmaker. I ll come back and
take you down to dinner later, if you d like.
I d like that fine.
He smiled a little at that and backed himself out. Seems all I do in this
place is tell folks to go to sleep.
Yes, but I m actually going to do it.
He grinned that grin should be illegal and shut the door softly.
On the wall beside the washstand hung a shaving mirror, fine flat Glassforge
glass. Reminded, Fawn slid up to it and turned down the collar of her blue
dress.
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The bruise masking most of the left side of her face was purple going
greenish around the edges, with four dark scabs from the mud-man s claws
mounting to her cheekbone, still tender but not hot with infection. The
pattern of the malice s hand on her neck, four blots on one side and one on
the other, stood out in sharp contrast to her fair skin. The marks had a
peculiar black tint and an ugly raised texture unlike any other contusion Fawn
had ever seen. Well, if there was any special trick to their healing, Dag
would know it. Or might have experienced it himself, if he had got close
enough to as many malices as Mari s inventory of his past knives suggested.
Fawn went to the window and just caught a glimpse of Dag s tall form passing
below, arm harness tossed over his shoulder, striding up the street toward the
town square. She gazed out at Glassforge after he d made his way out of sight
along the boardwalk, but not for long; yawning uncontrollably, she slipped off
her dress and shoes and crawled into the bed.
Chapter 10
Dag returned at dinnertime as promised. Fawn had put on her good dress, the
green cotton that her aunt Nattie had spun and woven; she followed him
downstairs. The raucous noises coming out of the room where they d eaten their
quiet lunch gave her pause.
Seeing her hesitate, Dag smiled and bent his head to murmur, Patrollers can
be a rowdy bunch when we all get together, but you ll be all right. You don t
have to answer any questions you don t want. We can make out you re still too
shaken by our fight with the malice and don t want to talk about it. They ll
accept that. His hand drifted to her collar as if to arrange it more tidily,
and Fawn realized he was not covering up the strange marks on her neck, but
rather, making sure they showed. I think we don t need to mention what
happened with the second knife to anyone besides Mari.
Good, said Fawn, relieved, and allowed him to take her in, his arm
protective at her back.
The tables this evening were indeed full of tall, alarming patrollers,
twenty-five or so, variously layered with road dirt. Given Dag s warning, Fawn
managed not to jump when their entrance was greeted with whoops, cheers, table
pounding, and flying jibes about Dag s three-day vanishing. The roughness of
some of the jests was undercut by the real joy in the voices, and Dag, smiling
crookedly, gave back: Some trackers! I swear you lot couldn t find a drink in
a rain barrel!
Beer barrel, Dag! someone hooted in return. What s wrong with you?
Dag surveyed the room and guided Fawn toward a square table on the far side
where only two patrollers sat, the Utau and Razi she d met earlier. The two
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