stole most often from them. So if one had stolen Fire from his goat, then he would also have traces of that goat soul in the draw, and over time that soul would manifest itself. Such a thief might develop the nubs of horns on his head or a slit iris in his eyes. If one had stolen from fish, he might one day find patches of scales instead of skin. Someone who stole from his cattle might be inflamed with lust by a heifer in estrus. Someone who had stolen from a bird . . .
But this was all wrong. How could a babe steal soul?
“You cannot controvert the manifestations of Sleth-work upon both bodies,” said the Crab. “Nor can you claim the child is not yours. The other Koramite children who died last season have all been dug up and accounted for. And no other has gone missing.”
The bowmen trained their arrows on Da’s heart. Some pointed their arrows at her and Mother.
Barg spoke up. “You haven’t been sick in many years. And the tale your wife tells is suspect. Your dogs were in the yard the day your child went missing. This she swears. Yet she also said they did not bark.” He motioned at Midnight and Sky. “We all heard today how they react to strangers. There could have been some charm put upon them. But it could also be the one snag in an otherwise well-spun lie.”
“Purity does not lie,” said Da.
“Then you have nothing to fear from the ordeal,” said the Crab.
“My Lord,” said Da. “I respect your office. But you are no Divine. An ordeal—”
“Master Sparrow,” said the Crab. “Would you rather I let a mob deal with the problem? This is what prudence demands. Now, pick up the collar.”
“There’s not one of you that can revive us if the ordeal turns fatal. Let us wait for a Divine.”
“That is not an option.”
Of course, it was. But they thought Da was Sleth, and everyone knew you did not bargain with Sleth. You never gave them any quarter. Sleth were both fearsome and wily and too quick to escape their bonds.
“You live with me all these years and suddenly conclude I’m one who could devour his own children?” Da pointed at Barg. “Who was it last autumn, after those bloody battles on the Fingers, that cast aside prudence and rowed back at night to an island crawling with Bone Faces to save three doomed friends?” It had been Da who had rowed back. Da who had saved, among others, Barg the butcher.
Sugar looked into the faces of the soldiers. There were a number she recognized. Some had laughed with Da in the yard. Others had eaten at their table. Many of the villagers of Plum had drunk ale and been entertained by Legs singing his ditties. All had accepted the water he drew and delivered to the villagers as they worked the fields, him leading his goat and cart, feeling the road as he went with his stick. But those smiling faces were gone. They were replaced by faces grim and fixed on their purpose.
Mother grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward the house.
“I’ve drunk and danced with you,” said Da. “I’ve shoed your horses. I probably fashioned most of those spearheads. You’ve nothing to fear from me. My heart is as clean and fresh as well water and you all know it.”
“What we know is that all the evidence points here,” said the Crab. “And now we’ve come to the end of our discussion. If we were uplanders bent on murder, you would already be dead. I’ve done more than give you the benefit of the doubt. This is the last chance I’m giving you. Pick up the collar and irons.”
“You will kill us and learn nothing.”
“Zun,” said Barg, using the title of honor meant for warriors who were equals. “Just pick up the cursed irons.”
Da did not move.
“Bowmen,” said the Crab. “Ready yourselves.”
The bowmen drew their strings to their cheeks.
Sugar could not believe her eyes.
She and Mother now stood at the doorway to the house.
Da looked back at Mother. Some communication passed between them that Sugar could not decipher.
The Crab raised his arm to signal the bowmen. “Let all here witness that Sparrow, smith of the village of Plum, has refused an ordeal.”
“Stop!” said Da. “I’ll take your wretched collar and irons. But you know only Divines can conduct hunts. The only reason you haven’t killed us already is so that