freezes, as if realizing he’s disagreeing with Aron. His face pales and he drops his gaze to his hands, where he’s constantly twisting his hat.
“Well, I’m sure it’s not a problem. So we avoid this Red Glacier thing and then what?” I prompt the farmer. “Just keep going north? How many days to the Ashen Sea?”
He shrugs. “Possibly. The Ashen Sea is the edge of the world. No one goes there. I only know of it from my father’s fathers. I do not know of anyone that has gone there in recent times.”
Hmm. “Well, we can ask for more directions in…” I study my scribbly handwriting that’s already smearing thanks to the charcoal. “Novoro.”
Vian coughs, and when I turn to look at her, she’s focused on her baby.
“Is Novoro a bad place?” I ask.
Cathis looks as if he’ll faint. “No.”
“Then why do you cower, man?” Aron demands.
“Their customs are very different than ours.” Vian says, and her cheeks are red. “Two men share one wife. Sometimes three.”
“Well that sounds like hell,” I say drily.
Aron snorts, thunder rumbling overhead.
“They are a good people,” Vian continues, her voice soft. “Just…different.”
“All righty, we’ll keep open minds, then.” I smile brightly at her. “Which brings us to the topic of supplies. We’re going to need some for our journey.”
“Of course we will provide you with whatever you need,” Vian says, casting a look at her husband. “We live to serve the Lord of Storms.”
“We need a mount,” Aron says. “And food supplies. And clothing for my consort.” And then the bastard plays with a lock of my hair, as if to prove to everyone that I’m servicing his arrogant ass.
I wish his leg was under the table so I could kick him.
“I have but a donkey and a woale,” Cathis says. “You are welcome to either. Or both.”
“Let me see both and I will choose.” Aron releases my hair and then the two men head outside.
I’m alone with Vian, who’s very carefully stirring the cauldron over the fire, the scent of porridge in the air. “We really appreciate this,” I tell her, because she’s awfully quiet.
“Of course.”
“Is it going to put you out?”
She bites her lip. “All we ask for is a blessing.”
That’s not the first time she’s brought that up, but I’m not entirely sure what she means. “We’ll pay for whatever we take, of course. Just tell me how much money you need.”
Vian turns, startled, and her baby begins to cry. “It isn’t necessary—”
“Sure it is,” I say, and get to my feet. I wipe my charcoal-smeared hands on my tunic and then reach out and take the baby from her. The little one immediately grabs a fistful of my hair and begins to tug. Vian hesitates, then turns back to stirring the food. “We’re imposing on you guys. The least we can do is help monetarily.”
She pauses, and then turns back to me. “Money will help, but it will mean nothing if the rain doesn’t stop. That’s why we need Aron’s blessing so much.”
I blink. Then, the light goes on in my head. He’s the Lord of Storms and their fields are one big mud puddle. “Oh my god. The rain. I’m an idiot. Of course we can ask him to stop it.”
“Do you think he will?”
“Positive,” I tell her firmly. “If he can do anything about it, I know he will. He’s kind of a dick but at heart, he’s a good guy. Once we tell him how it’s wrecking your fields, he’ll take care of it…and we’ll still pay you, because it’s the right thing to do.”
Vian bursts into tears.
That makes me feel even worse. “Please don’t cry.”
“It’s just…” She swipes at her face, her nose running. “The farm is everything and if we don’t have enough to sell, we all starve. I will give him my woale if he asks for it. I will give him my body if he asks for it. By all the gods, I will give my firstborn child if he promises to feed it, because very soon I will not be able to.” Her eyes are blazing with frustration.
“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” I stammer, shocked at her words. “He’s the god of storms, right? It thunders every time he gets in a bad mood, so I’m sure it’s easy for him to stop the rain. We can just ask him.” How many times have I paid zero attention to the weather around Aron just because I’m used to the rain and mud