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nodded, offering pitying eyes. Persephone didn’t want to be pitied. She’d always seen her role as an example to her people and found herself ill suited to the role of woeful widow.
    “No, wait.” Persephone stopped her. “I should be the one to give it to Tressa. It will look like I disapprove if I don’t.”
    “Might not be Tressa,” Sarah said. She walked to the door and peered out. “Holliman has challenged Konniger. They’re getting ready to fight now.”
    “Holliman?” Persephone said, confused. “Are you serious?”
    Persephone joined her friend at the door. The front of Sarah’s home faced the little grassy patch of open space before the lodge steps, which the dahl’s residents used for outdoor gatherings. Between the burning braziers in front of the stone statue of Mari, the two men checked the straps on their wooden shields, each armed with an ax.
    “It’s not like he doesn’t stand
any
chance.” Sarah held the door open as the two looked out.
    “Holliman is only a huntsman,” Persephone said. “Konniger has been Reglan’s Shield for years.”
    “He’s big.”
    “Konniger is bigger.”
    “Not by much. And there’s more to combat than size. There’s speed and—”
    “Experience?” Persephone stared at Sarah as she let the door close. “I guess it’s good that the matchup is so one-sided, Konniger won’t have to kill Holliman. He’ll yield quickly. We can’t afford to lose such a talented hunter.”
    The door jerked open, and Sarah’s daughter entered. “Sorry I’m late.”
    Brin was tall for her age, most of the height in her legs, and in many ways she was a ganglier version of her mother. Sarah possessed a tiny nose and an easy smile, and although not particularly beautiful, she’d always been remarkably cute. Both braided their hair, or more likely Sarah braided both, the obvious choice in style given that Sarah was the dahl’s most talented weaver.
    The girl flopped on the bed and sighed heavily.
    “Something wrong?” Sarah asked.
    “It’s Maeve. She’s crazy and being stupid.”
    “Brin!” her mother scolded.
    “I mean, I don’t know how she expects me to learn everything down to the emphasis on words and the order of lists of names.”
    “Maeve is an extremely talented and capable Keeper.”
    “But she’s old,” Brin said.
    “So am I. So is Seph, and I can assure you we aren’t crazy.”
    “Okay, but if you’re old,
she’s ancient,
and definitely losing her mind.” Brin bounced up to a sitting position and crossed her legs. “It’s insane to think a person can remember
that
much detail. Who cares if Hagen comes after Doden in the list of men slain at the Battle of Glenmoor?”
    “I know it must be difficult keeping everything straight,” Sarah told her. “But you shouldn’t blame your failures on others. You won’t be Keeper that way. You need to pay better attention.”
    “But…” Brin frowned and folded her arms.
    “Your mother is right,” Persephone said. “Being a Keeper isn’t only about remembering the stories; it’s an important responsibility. It’s crucial that you know the customs and laws. I realize you find details such as when to plant which crops boring, but those are the kinds of things that determine whether everyone lives or dies. That’s why Keepers are so revered.”
    “I know, but…” Brin looked hurt and turned away.
    Persephone sighed. “Brin, I’m sorry. I’m just…listen, you’ll make a fine Keeper, but you’re still young. You’re only fifteen and have plenty of time to learn. You need to listen to Maeve, do as she says, and don’t argue. If she gets frustrated, she’ll pick someone else.”
    “Which wouldn’t be so awful,” Sarah said. “You could get back to learning the loom.”
    “Mother, please!” Brin rolled her eyes, then got up and reached for the empty water gourd.
    “Well, you were the one pointing out how old I am. I’m going to need someone to take over when I’m too