what happened in the tower. I can understand your frustration, but I can’t trust you here alone. So you’re going with me. Now get the wagon hitched.”
Talen buckled the second loin strap about Iron Boy, their mule. Nettle was gathering food because, despite the current turmoils, Da said there were families needing supplies. And now, according to Da, was just as good a time to deliver what they needed as any other. Talen suspected it was only to cover something else, but he could not guess what that was. He didn’t understand his father.
Talen stroked Iron Boy’s neck. He almost wished he could trade places with the mule.
“I’m not oblivious to all the dangers about us,” said Da.
Talen turned. Da had walked up to the wagon. He secured the Hog under the seat. When he finished there, he came to stand before Talen, an unusually dark braid of godsweed in his hand. Despite Da’s protestations, River had wrapped his neck with a poultice. “I want you to wear this for protection.”
Godsweed was used to ward off things not wholly of this world. Its smoke was potent. But even having it upon you was supposed to have an effect. “Why are you giving me that? This isn’t about malevolent souls.”
“Oh, but it is,” said Da. “Did you not listen to what I said about the creature at the fortress? It was full of the dead. Now, hold out your arm.”
Talen pulled back the sleeve of his tunic and let Da tie the braid about his upper arm. The braid was thicker than most, woven in an odd pattern. But he’d never seen Da or River braid it.
“Where did you get this?”
Da said nothing. When he finished tying the braid, he pulled the sleeve of Talen’s tunic back down over it, nodded, then reached out, cupped the back of Talen’s neck with his large hand, and looked deep into his eyes. “Courage, son.”
This was Da’s habit since Talen was a boy. He’d look him in the eyes and make him focus on a word.
Talen felt stupid. Annoyed. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. He tried to shrug out of his father’s grasp, but Da’s grip was even stronger than Ke’s. Da waited for Talen’s response.
“Courage,” said Talen.
Da smiled. “See, you feel better already.”
“All I felt was your hand, cold as the tomb.” Talen hated that little ritual, and he swore at that moment he would never subject his sons to anything like it.
Da nodded. “We’re almost done here. I just need a bit of barley.”
Nettle returned shortly with what looked like most of what had been hanging in the smoke shed, including the salmon Talen had caught just last week. Nettle placed it next to a basket of cabbages and another of carrots resting in the wagon bed. Then Da came out of the house rolling a medium-sized barrel of barley.
“Goh,” said Talen. “How many are we to visit?”
“Not enough,” said Da.
Every two weeks Da went to Whitecliff and delivered supplies to struggling families along the way. Most were widows whose Koramite husbands had died or been maimed in the battles with the Bone Faces. One of the families had lost both mother and father, and the oldest son had sold himself to one of the clans to pay their debts.
Talen didn’t know how Da knew who to visit. He supposed they discussed such things in the Koramite council Da attended. All the Koramites in the area were supposed to donate their surplus to help the affected families. But it seemed a large portion of what Talen delivered came from his family’s own larder and garden. This time was no different.
Da drove the wagon and made Talen and Nettle walk alongside to spare Iron Boy. They traveled in silence for a time. Then Da tied the reins to the wooden hook under the seat and began undoing the thin, black leather strips holding his beard braids and combing the the hair out with an old bone comb. Iron Boy plodded along. When Da began to retie the first braid, Talen figured he’d had enough time for his temper to die down. He looked up at his father on the wagon seat and said, “So have you got some godsweed for Nettle?”
“Not today,” said Da. He held the braid with one hand and brought up the leather tie. “That’s his father’s office.”