Rain looked over at the arguing pair. “Looking for Gronbach, but he’s up in the Rostwell, eating. So now we’re trying to think of a place to hide you until Gronbach finishes his meal. He’ll be in a bad mood if he’s interrupted, but we don’t want to get caught before we have a chance to talk to him.”
“Caught? Caught by who? Caught for what? Frost said a small group of women wouldn’t be seen as a problem. Was that the truth or merely what you were hoping?”
A gasp came from behind, and Persephone turned just in time to see a plump Dherg drop a tray of stacked wooden bowls. The whole thing hit the stone with a horrible crash, sending the containers bouncing and spinning across the floor. The impact of the silver tray rang and echoed off the hard walls.
Then the chubby dwarf screamed. He continued to shriek while running up the broad stairs. Persephone doubted that this was a promising development. Clearly, some things had been left out of Frost’s story.
She looked back at Frost and Flood. Neither of them moved nor spoke. Frozen, they watched the terrified dwarf run up the steps.
“What do you want us to do?” Persephone asked.
Frost looked back at her, his face pale. “Don’t die. That would ruin everything.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Long Gone
Her eyesight was failing, her hearing poor, and she did not have a single tooth left in her head, but that old woman knew everything.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
“Will we be going to the meeting tomorrow?” Malcolm asked. The one-time slave sat on the stack of Rhen-imported split logs to avoid the trickle of water that made its way through their corner of the camp.
“No,” Raithe replied with all the willfulness of a stubborn child.
“That’s three in a row. You’re letting your clan down, my chieftain.”
He said this with a smile directed at Tesh, who sat carving a small bit of wood into something that vaguely resembled a turtle.
The rain had returned, hindering Raithe from training the boy. The two had been spending most of their days on the beach, going over everything from proper footing to correct falling. They managed to find driftwood to approximate swords and spears. As it turned out, the kid wasn’t just a fast learner, he already knew a good deal. Tesh had managed to trip Raithe twice, and the young boy had thrown the bigger man to the sand a few times. Whenever Raithe got lazy or underestimated the kid, he received a bruise as punishment. With the rain, there was little sense in sparring—too hard to see, too difficult to think. A day of rest was in order.
And so Raithe and Tesh had joined Malcolm under the wool. The three had an island of dry grass, but Raithe didn’t know for how long. A sag in the overhead wool created a looming threat. The center dripped—not fast, but constantly. Malcolm had put a wooden bowl beneath it to catch the water, but it had to be emptied often, which meant they either took turns sleeping or woke up wet. That wasn’t Raithe’s only concern. The slow leak wasn’t enough to offset the rain. The overhead pond grew wider and deeper at an ominous rate.
Malcolm held a stemless cup in both hands and sipped from it. Raithe had no idea what was in the cup and no interest in finding out. He wasn’t thirsty, and while he hadn’t eaten since that morning, he wasn’t hungry, either. Tired was the only way to describe how he felt, but he’d done nothing that day to warrant the weariness. When he wasn’t teaching Tesh, he had no work nor any responsibilities except being a chieftain of one. Raithe had spent a short time breaking up what little wood they had to feed their fire and had sewn up a pulled seam in his shirt, but neither took more than a few minutes. Most of his time was spent staring out at the rain. The ceaseless patter, ping, and drip drained him of all strength and ambition. Idleness created a boredom all its own. He wanted to sleep but couldn’t, and he let out a sigh.
“I understand.” Malcolm took another sip from his cup and began nodding. “It’s indeed exhausting to sit here all day, watching your fingers wrinkle.” He pulled one hand away from his cup to study it. “Captivating, not to mention gravely important.”
“The rain might stop tomorrow. Then Tesh and I can do some more training.”
“And if it doesn’t? Will you spend another day staring thoughtfully across the field? I mean if you don’t do it, who will? And it is a significantly better choice than ruling the clans.”
“I don’t want to be keenig,” Raithe said.
“Such sentiment, some might say, is all the more reason you should take the position.”
Raithe glared.
Malcolm smiled in mock innocence, then turned to Tesh. “Has he fed you today?”
The kid shook his head, and Malcolm shot Raithe a shocked expression.
“We didn’t do anything,” Raithe explained. “Don’t need to eat every day, you know. He’s fine. He’s Dureyan. We don’t coddle our children. You learn to survive on your own or you don’t. Simple as that.”
Malcolm nodded. “Might explain why there’s only two of you left.”
“What did you do today, Mister Enterprising Ball of Ambition?” Raithe asked.
“I helped out with the sheep. The flocks were getting into the crops again. Got into a little scuffle with the local farmers.”
“A scuffle?”
“A shoving match.”
“Who won?”
He pointed to the spear leaning against the wall behind them. “Narsirabad.”
“You stabbed someone?” Raithe asked, impressed.
“No!” Malcolm said, appalled.
“But you threatened to?”
“Well, maybe…a little.” Malcolm stirred the embers. “I also checked on Gelston.”
Despite having lived in Dahl Rhen for over a month, Raithe knew few faces and fewer names. Gelston’s stood out. He was Brin’s uncle who had survived being hit by lightning. While most of Dahl Rhen’s injured had been left at the first outer village they came to, Gelston had followed the train of people south. “How’s he doing?”
“Walking around and talking but still in pain. Complains about his back and head, a ringing in his ears, and the fact that he can’t sleep.”
“People are calling him blessed by the gods,” Raithe said.
“Don’t think he would agree,” Malcolm replied. “Also don’t think he’s ready to watch his flocks yet.”
Raithe shook his head and leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs to their full length, which put his feet out in the rain. Being tall had its shortcomings. “See, there you go…coddling people again. A little back pain or headache shouldn’t keep a man from getting his work done. His sheep could start a war. He needs to get back to work.”
Malcolm nodded again. “I’m sure he would agree…if he knew he had sheep.”
“How’s that?”
“In addition to the pain, and a really exotic lesion running up his back that looks like a red fern, he has trouble remembering things. I watched him fill a bowl with water, wash his face, dump the water, and then do the whole thing over again a few minutes later without having any idea he’d done it before. Sometimes he remembers the sheep, sometimes he forgets the names of his dogs. Other times he just blanks out entirely. I suppose being blessed has different meanings for some people.”