She nodded in acquiescence. That meant she wouldn’t retreat to the cellar. She didn’t want to do that anyway. If Talen should change his mind, she didn’t want to be caught like a fish in a barrel.
Legs stepped toward Sugar with his hands out. When he found her, he felt for her hand. “Should I go down?” he asked.
It would probably be best. That way she wouldn’t have to worry about him should the situation change. But she didn’t want him to sit down there alone thinking about what she’d just revealed. He needed to know she was strong. That things would be all right. At least that’s what she told herself.
“Stand with me,” she said, “and smell the morning coming in through the windows. We’ll visit the potatoes soon enough.”
The shutters by the dining table looked out over the farm. She pulled them completely open then walked to the the back of the house and opened the shutters on the window there so she had a view of the river.
After a few moments Legs began to hum one of the songs he’d often sang to entertain the men and women of Plum village in the evenings as they sat drinking their ale. It was the one about a stupid boy trying to outsmart a gang of crows. She smiled. Perhaps it was she who needed him.
Legs sang another few songs, then he stopped, and Sugar could see he was thinking. A few minutes later he began again. A half an hour must have passed that way, Legs humming or singing, stopping to think, singing again, all while Sugar tidied up, first breakfast, then the floor, always keeping an eye on the windows. And across from them, Talen sat with his bow at the ready.
Sugar ran through a number of scenarios. She knew if Talen changed he mind and decided to use his bow, that she would pick up a chair as a shield and charge him. He’d only get off one shot that way. It would pierce her body or it wouldn’t. And if it didn’t, then she’d be in close with her knife. However, that wouldn’t solve any issues should hunters show up. They needed to seem friends, and that would never happen with him holding the bow.
She finished the floor, cleaned the ashes from the hearth and put them in the tin ash bucket, then took a good long look out the window. Nettle worked in the distance.
Talen spoke. “What kind of a name is Legs anyway? It’s not like he’s tall for his age. I can’t imagine he’s quick either.”
“No, Zu,” said Legs. “It’s rather hard to be speedy when you can’t see where you’re going.”
Talen looked surprised that Legs had talked. Sugar herself was a bit surprised, but she knew the tone in his voice. He’d made up his mind about something. This was him wanting to make a point.
“Legs,” said Sugar in warning.
“So that means it would be a bit difficult for me to catch and eat you.”
Talen raised his eyebrows. “What’s he going on about?”
“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” said Legs. “And you can talk to me directly if you want. I’m not deaf.”
Talen stood. “Maybe I don’t like the way your eyes slide around.”
“Sorry, Zu,” said Legs. His eyes had been sliding and he closed his lids. “I know all the stories about Sleth. I’ve sung all the songs. I’ve been thinking about them. And you’d expect if my mother had the powers she’s accused of, she would have given me my sight. Why wouldn’t she have done that?”
“What do I know about your mother’s Slethy ways? Ask her yourself when they put you in the tower.”
“It’s because she’s not,” said Legs.
Sugar wished she had Legs’s confidence. But she didn’t want him to provoke Talen further. “Legs,” she said. “We didn’t answer his question.” She turned to Talen. “It’s his nickname. He was born legs first.”
Sugar didn’t tell him that the midwife had said when Legs’s feet first appeared, he’d pulled them back from the cool air in the room and refused to come out. The first time she’d heard that as a girl, she’d laughed and laughed. She had made her mother tell it again and again. The memory of that happy time seemed so far away, so unreal, as if it weren’t true at all, but only a story.