Arlen knew his parents would be happy to pound the salt themselves, rather than pay Hog extra for the service. Most would, really, but old Hog never gave them a choice, milling the salt as soon as it came and tacking on the extra cost.
Arlen had a spring in his step as he walked down the road toward the Cluster. It wasn’t until he passed the tree that Cholie had hung from that Arlen’s spirits fell. He thought again about what Ragen had said about fighting corelings, and what his father had said about prudence.
He thought his father probably had the right of it: Hide when you can and fight when you must. Even Ragen seemed to agree with that philosophy. But Arlen couldn’t shake the feeling that hiding hurt people too, in ways they couldn’t see.
He met his father in the Cluster and earned a clap on the back when he showed his prize. He spent the rest of the afternoon running to and fro, helping rebuild. Already, another house was repaired and would be warded by nightfall. In a few more weeks, the Cluster would be fully rebuilt, and that was in everyone’s interest, if they wanted enough wood to last the winter.
“I promised Selia I’d throw in here for the next few days,” Jeph said as they packed the cart that afternoon. “You’ll be the man of the farm while I’m gone. You’ll have to check the ward-posts and weed the fields. I saw you show Norine your chores this morning. She can handle the yard, and Marea can help your mother inside.”
“All right,” Arlen said. Weeding the fields and checking the posts was hard work, but the trust made him proud.
“I’m counting on you, Arlen,” Jeph said.
“I won’t let you down,” Arlen promised.
The next few days passed with little event. Silvy still cried at times, but there was work to do, and she never once complained of the additional mouths to feed. Norine took to caring for the animals naturally, and even Marea began to come out of her shell a bit, helping with the sweeping and cooking, working the loom after supper. Soon she was taking turns with Norine in the yard. Both women seemed determined to do their share, though their faces, too, grew pained and wistful whenever there was a lull in the work.
Arlen’s hands blistered from pulling weeds, and his back and shoulders ached at the end of each day, but he didn’t complain. The only one of his new responsibilities he enjoyed was working on the wardposts. Arlen had always loved warding, mastering the basic defensive symbols before most children began learning at all, and more complex wardnets soon after. Jeph didn’t even check his work anymore. Arlen’s hand was steadier than his father’s. Warding wasn’t the same as attacking a demon with a spear, but it was fighting in its own way.
Jeph arrived at dusk each day, and Silvy had water from the well waiting for him to wash off. Arlen helped Norine and Marea lock up the animals, and then they had supper.
On the fifth day, a wind kicked up in the late afternoon that sent dust whorls dancing in the yard, and had the barn door banging. Arlen could smell rain coming, and the darkening sky confirmed it. He hoped Jeph saw the signs, too, and came back early, or stayed on in the Cluster. Dark clouds meant an early dusk, and early dusk sometimes meant corelings before full sunset.
Arlen abandoned the fields and began to help the women herd the spooked animals back into the barn. Silvy was out as well,battening down the cellar doors and making sure the wardposts around the day pens were lashed tight. There was little time to spare when Jeph’s cart came into sight. The sky was darkening quickly, and already there was no direct sun. Corelings could rise at any moment.
“No time to unhitch the cart,” Jeph called, cracking the whip to drive Missy faster toward the barn. “We’ll do it in the morning. Everyone in the house, now!” Silvy and the other women complied, heading inside.
“We can do it if we hurry,” Arlen yelled over the roar of
Arlen had a spring in his step as he walked down the road toward the Cluster. It wasn’t until he passed the tree that Cholie had hung from that Arlen’s spirits fell. He thought again about what Ragen had said about fighting corelings, and what his father had said about prudence.
He thought his father probably had the right of it: Hide when you can and fight when you must. Even Ragen seemed to agree with that philosophy. But Arlen couldn’t shake the feeling that hiding hurt people too, in ways they couldn’t see.
He met his father in the Cluster and earned a clap on the back when he showed his prize. He spent the rest of the afternoon running to and fro, helping rebuild. Already, another house was repaired and would be warded by nightfall. In a few more weeks, the Cluster would be fully rebuilt, and that was in everyone’s interest, if they wanted enough wood to last the winter.
“I promised Selia I’d throw in here for the next few days,” Jeph said as they packed the cart that afternoon. “You’ll be the man of the farm while I’m gone. You’ll have to check the ward-posts and weed the fields. I saw you show Norine your chores this morning. She can handle the yard, and Marea can help your mother inside.”
“All right,” Arlen said. Weeding the fields and checking the posts was hard work, but the trust made him proud.
“I’m counting on you, Arlen,” Jeph said.
“I won’t let you down,” Arlen promised.
The next few days passed with little event. Silvy still cried at times, but there was work to do, and she never once complained of the additional mouths to feed. Norine took to caring for the animals naturally, and even Marea began to come out of her shell a bit, helping with the sweeping and cooking, working the loom after supper. Soon she was taking turns with Norine in the yard. Both women seemed determined to do their share, though their faces, too, grew pained and wistful whenever there was a lull in the work.
Arlen’s hands blistered from pulling weeds, and his back and shoulders ached at the end of each day, but he didn’t complain. The only one of his new responsibilities he enjoyed was working on the wardposts. Arlen had always loved warding, mastering the basic defensive symbols before most children began learning at all, and more complex wardnets soon after. Jeph didn’t even check his work anymore. Arlen’s hand was steadier than his father’s. Warding wasn’t the same as attacking a demon with a spear, but it was fighting in its own way.
Jeph arrived at dusk each day, and Silvy had water from the well waiting for him to wash off. Arlen helped Norine and Marea lock up the animals, and then they had supper.
On the fifth day, a wind kicked up in the late afternoon that sent dust whorls dancing in the yard, and had the barn door banging. Arlen could smell rain coming, and the darkening sky confirmed it. He hoped Jeph saw the signs, too, and came back early, or stayed on in the Cluster. Dark clouds meant an early dusk, and early dusk sometimes meant corelings before full sunset.
Arlen abandoned the fields and began to help the women herd the spooked animals back into the barn. Silvy was out as well,battening down the cellar doors and making sure the wardposts around the day pens were lashed tight. There was little time to spare when Jeph’s cart came into sight. The sky was darkening quickly, and already there was no direct sun. Corelings could rise at any moment.
“No time to unhitch the cart,” Jeph called, cracking the whip to drive Missy faster toward the barn. “We’ll do it in the morning. Everyone in the house, now!” Silvy and the other women complied, heading inside.
“We can do it if we hurry,” Arlen yelled over the roar of
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