whole, but she would still have to consider what Volis's fancies would mean to her and hers.
Dismissing the priest as an immediate threat left her with no distraction for the burden she carried. Though the honey jars were gone, almost a hundred weight of them, her pack carried stones that weighed her soul more than her back. As soon as Seraph left the main road for the cover of the trail, she stopped and pulled out the bag of mermori and counted them. Eighty-three.
Her hand tightened on the last one until the sharp edge of the end drew blood. Hurriedly she wiped off the mermora; it was never a good thing to expose magicked things to blood. When she was certain it was clean, she put them back in the leather bag and returned the whole bundle to her pack.
"There's nothing I can do," she said fiercely, though there was no one to hear her. "I don't know anything. I have no more ability than a dozen other Ravens who have all failed to prevent the demise of the Travelers. Here, in this place, I have three children who need me. There are fields to be planted and gardens to tend and a husband to welcome me home. There is nothing I can do."
But, by Lark and Raven, eighty-three. She swallowed. Maybe Tier would be home when she returned. She needed him to be home.
The land that Seraph and Tier farmed was in a very small hanging valley, most of which was too rocky to plant. They had no close neighbors. It had been virgin land when they had come there as newly married strangers.
From the vantage point of a knoll above the valley, Seraph fought back the feeling that it would all go back to wild within the decade - she was no farseer, just tired. She adjusted her pack and started down the faint trail.
Trees gave way to grass and field. As soon as she started on the path above the cabin, a joyous bark preceded Gura as he charged up the trail to welcome her home.
"Hello, fool dog," she said, and he rolled at her feet in rapture at her recognition of him, coating his thick fur in spring mud.
He was huge and black, covered with hair that needed daily grooming. Tier'd come home from town one evening with a black eye and a frightened, half-starved puppy with huge feet. Always collecting strays, was her husband.
Seraph bit back tears, and shook her head at the dog. "Come, Gura, let's see how my lad did on his own today."
The huge dog lumbered to his feet and shook himself off, sloughing off the puppy antics with the mud. He accompanied her to the cabin with solemn dignity.
With Gura's welcome to warn her family, Seraph wasn't surprised to find Lehr and Rinnie quietly working in the cabin.
"Ma!" said her youngest in tones of utter relief. "Lehr was so mean. He yelled at me when I was already doing what he asked me to."
At ten, Rinnie had recently adopted the role of family arbitrator and informant - which was having the expected results with her siblings. She took after Seraph more than anyone in the - family at least in looks. Rinnie was short with Seraph's pale hair that stood out so in Redern's dark population. In temperament she more resembled her father, sharing both his calm good sense and his flair for drama.
Seraph hugged her and looked up at Lehr.
"We finished turning the garden," said Lehr repressively. "And we planted a good third of it before Rinnie whined so much I let her go inside."
"He made me work hard," said Rinnie, still not giving up the hope of getting her brother in trouble.
When Rinnie stuck her tongue out at Lehr, he ignored it. Last year he would have retaliated - or smiled at her, knowing that her reaction would be worth whatever trouble he'd get in.
"Thank you, Lehr," Seraph said, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I know it's not an easy job to keep this lazy girl working. I can tell by the stew on the hob and the pile of carded wool that the both of you came inside and rested like the high-born."
He laughed and hugged her. "She was fine. We'd have gotten the whole garden done, Mother, if Jes had stuck around. He left sometime after lunch - I didn't even see him go."