Seven Brothers Blessed [ Lore of Penrua: Book IV ]

[ 49 ]

Uachi shook his hands out, stretching his fingers and then his arms. It was near enough to shame him, how sore he was from just a few days' hard work. Hauling bales, raising a fence, helping to patch up a roof, and now, chopping wood: he could have done any of this for days on end when he'd lived in Hanpe, a younger man, and now he ached as if he'd been hit with a hay cart.

He'd grow used to the work in time, if he chose to stay in Narr. He still was not sure whether he would. It made more sense to go back to Hanpe, a familiar place, a home. There, he could be among friends, could—

"I'm winning."

He looked over at his workmate, a girl of some fourteen summers, her freckled face beaming with triumph. She gestured to her pile of split firewood with her axe.

"You are not. How many pieces have you got?"

"Forty!"

"Count them again, Beanstalk."

The girl's real name was Tadve, but Uachi had nicknamed her in self-defense; she had proven to be more of a challenge than the labor, with her quick wit and love of competition. She had started it, after all, naming him Barn Cat "on account of his scowl and his half-ruined ear."

Sharp little miss.

She dropped to her knees and began to count her split pieces. Uachi tugged his axe out of the stump he'd been working at and picked up another piece of wood, balancing it on its end. He rolled his shoulders and neck, then swung the ax, splitting the piece in half. Each half, he split again, every swing of the axe inching him closer to blisters.

"You distracted me," complained Beanstalk. "You can't keep chopping while I'm counting. Those pieces don't count."

"Distraction is a tactic," said Uachi, leaning down for another piece of wood. "When you're at war, you have to be crafty."

She groaned with irritation, springing to her feet and taking another piece for herself. For several minutes, they lapsed back into silence, both of them working steadily through piece after piece of firewood, scowling with the effort and sweating in the midmorning sun.

"Hey, what's that?"

Uachi didn't look up. He swung his axe, and quarters of firewood went flying. "An admirable effort, but you'll have to try harder."

"No, seriously." She touched his arm. When he looked at her, she was staring at something in the distance. He followed her gaze, lowering his axe to his side.

There, along the road a distance from Beanstalk's family farm, a number of riders on horses were traveling along the road. There had to have been at dozen, all moving in a group.

Uachi's first instinct was suspicion. The farmer he was staying with, his wife, and his four children were peaceful people. He did not think there were any weapons in the house more serious than a carving knife. What if this group of riders had come to make trouble?

But they showed no sign of slowing as they approached, and they did not pause where the road branched off onto a rutted dirt path toward the farmhouse and its small outbuildings.

"Let's go look!" Beanstalk cried.

"No, I think—"

Before he could finish his sensible warning, she was running, her braid bouncing over her shoulder blades as she dashed toward the road. With a growl, Uachi yanked his axe out of the stump, sliding the shaft through his hand so he could grip it by the head as he took off running after her.

He could not hope to match her pace, but he tried. Rationally, he knew there was no call for panic; strangers traveled the countryside every day without making trouble. But, rationally, he knew to expect the worst: there were many men in the world who would do bad and worse things to this family, their sweet daughter most of all.

When Uachi finally caught up with Beanstalk, she was leaning against the very fence he had raised the day before with her father, grinning ear to ear. The riders were very close, now, close enough that Uachi could see their faces and the details on their horses' tack. Several of the horses were laden with baggage. Two of them were drawing small carts packed with chests and boxes.

A strange feeling moved through Uachi. It felt like fear, a cold, disorienting rush.

But it was not fear. It was recognition.

"I wonder where they're going." Beanstalk propped her chin on her hands, staring openly at the strangers. "Gods, someday I'd like to have a horse like that. And a dress like hers—the red one. Isn't it pretty?"

That woman. And that man. They were familiar. Uachi could hardly believe it, but he knew he had seen them before, at the table where he had sat during Old Lord Emón's funeral feast. He remembered the woman's sniff of disdain at his manners.

"Never mind. I want the blue one. Look, Barn Cat. Do you think that's real gold?"

And there, one of the last riders of all, was a face Uachi certainly recognized. It was that arse, Lord Alrain, the man who'd commanded him to carry his things into the castle.

"You look like you just swallowed a bug." Beanstalk nudged Uachi's arm. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"You haven't just fallen in love with one of those ladies, have you? Because you're definitely not nice enough to make up for that face."

Uachi looked at her, startled out of his thoughts by her words. When he saw her grin, he laughed, and she laughed, too, showing crooked teeth. "Well, it's hard for a man to be pleasant when he's surrounded by cruel women day in and day out."

"You laughed." She seemed quite proud of herself. "Just don't tell Mother I made fun of your face. She'll make me sleep in the barn."

"Maybe that's just what you need to straighten you out. Who'll be the barn cat then?"

"Hmph." She leaned on the fence again. The band of travelers had moved past them, and she watched wistfully as they rode away.

"I need to speak with your mother," Uachi said, his mind drifting after the riders.

"What?" The color drained from the girl's face. "You know I didn't mean it, right? I was just trying to make you laugh. You looked so serious."

Uachi smiled at the girl fondly, reaching out to tug the end of her braid. "I know it, Beanstalk. You cannot hide that soft heart of yours. It's only that I need to go. There's another sharp-tongued, skinny wit I need to see."

Surely you did not think you'd seen the last of our prickly old hedgehog, did you? 

What on earth has become of his spikes, though? Look at him, making friends with little girls on quiet farms in the countryside...the old Uachi would think the new one a stranger!