forbiddings against flame, rock, swamp, water, wind, and wood demons.
“So now we stay safe within our wards,” Keerin said, “letting the demons have their pleasures outside. Messengers,” he gestured to Ragen, “the bravest of all men, travel from city to city for us, bringing news and escorting men and goods.”
He walked about, his eyes hard as he met the frightened looks of the children. “But we are strong,” he said. “Aren’t we?”
The children nodded, but their eyes were still wide with fear.
“What?” he asked, putting a hand to his ear.
“Yes!” the crowd cried.
“When the Deliverer comes again, will we be ready?” he asked. “Will the demons learn to fear us once more?”
“Yes!” the crowd roared.
“They can’t hear you!” the Jongleur shouted.
“Yes!” the people screamed, punching fists in the air; Arlen most of all. Jessi imitated him, punching the air and shrieking as if she were a demon herself. The Jongleur bowed and, when the crowd quieted, lifted his lute and led them into another song.
As promised, Arlen left Town Square with a sack of salt. Enough to last weeks, even with Norine and Marea to feed. It was still unmilled, but 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,
“So now we stay safe within our wards,” Keerin said, “letting the demons have their pleasures outside. Messengers,” he gestured to Ragen, “the bravest of all men, travel from city to city for us, bringing news and escorting men and goods.”
He walked about, his eyes hard as he met the frightened looks of the children. “But we are strong,” he said. “Aren’t we?”
The children nodded, but their eyes were still wide with fear.
“What?” he asked, putting a hand to his ear.
“Yes!” the crowd cried.
“When the Deliverer comes again, will we be ready?” he asked. “Will the demons learn to fear us once more?”
“Yes!” the crowd roared.
“They can’t hear you!” the Jongleur shouted.
“Yes!” the people screamed, punching fists in the air; Arlen most of all. Jessi imitated him, punching the air and shrieking as if she were a demon herself. The Jongleur bowed and, when the crowd quieted, lifted his lute and led them into another song.
As promised, Arlen left Town Square with a sack of salt. Enough to last weeks, even with Norine and Marea to feed. It was still unmilled, but 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,
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