Graymouth. By the time Fawn had exclaimed over it, been shown its features, and assured Mama Smith that it was as fine as any Tripoint work, the ice was in a fair way to being broken, at least enough for going on with.
But the kitchen also harbored an unmarried daughter and two unexpected daughters-in-law, wives to Sage’s older brothers, the boys who were slated to be the next generation of Alligator Hat smiths. Six women in one kitchen was a crowd indeed. As the guest, Fawn seized bottom place in the pecking order of work flow, dislodging Calla, who’d only been there three weeks, unexpectedly upward. Tall, gawky Calla seemed more tense than grateful.
Mama Smith, her daughter, and both sisters-in-law displayed a decided coolness toward Calla, too, which puzzled Fawn. Truly, there were way too many women in this house already, not to mention Smiths in the smithy, but Calla seemed very much in support of her young husband and his northward trek. Fawn would have thought Calla’s mamain- law would be softened by that, as she was plainly fond of her youngest son. But Fawn’s musing had to wait while they put out food for, finally, fifteen adults and two toddlers in the kitchen and dining room and spilling over into the parlor. And then there was the washing up.
Dag had slipped away before dinner to secure their inn room, so was able to free Mama Smith from her dilemma of which family members to dislodge in her packed house to gain a decent bed for unforeseen married guests. As Fawn had guessed, Finch, Barr, and Arkady were offered bachelor space next to Ash and Indigo in the smithy loft, though Fawn could see Mama Smith was a bit doubtful about Arkady.
Barr had done well through dinner, repeating some of his milder river anecdotes in the few edgewise spaces given him. Fawn had said heartening things about Oleana. Dag had let Finch describe his adventures with Sparrow, making his shyness look wise and mysterious.
Arkady had said nothing at all. Fawn didn’t think any of the household took his well-disguised terror for anything but standoffish Lakewalker pride, which was likely just as well. She wondered if he’d ever been inside a farmer house before last night. Barr did help him get his bedroll up to the loft.
Fawn waved good-bye in the gathering darkness and let Dag escort her across the square.
The inn room proved small, but pretty and clean, and wonderfully quiet. Dag guaranteed it free of crawly pests. Fawn gave her husband a hug for finding it, then rested her head on his chest with a tired sigh.
“Are you all right? ” he asked, stroking her hair. “It was a long day for you.”
“Plenty more of those to come. No, I’m fine. I do wonder what’s going on with Sage and Calla, though. I liked him pretty well, but she’s cold as a fish. And his family doesn’t like her one bit. But nobody vented to me. Usually, in a family that big, there’s at least someone who’ll tell their complaints to anyone listening. You can’t shut them up.”
Dag hesitated. “Didn’t you realize? ”
“Realize what? ”
“Calla and her brother are both half bloods.”
Fawn’s hand stole unwilled to her belly, spreading protective fingers.
“No,” she said slowly. “I hadn’t realized that.”
13
The departure in the morning from the smithy yard was even more of an uproar than the one from the Bridger farm. As he tightened his girths for the second-no, third time and swung up on Copperhead, neatly avoiding a welcoming cow-kick, Dag found himself falling into his old patrol leader habit of doing ground checks on every person, animal, and piece of equipment in range. The result was actually heartening: young, healthy, and in repair pretty much summed it up. Well, with a couple of exceptions on the young part, including Copperhead. But with a portable smithy and a portable medicine tent, together with folks who knew how to work them, Dag’s party was vastly better prepared for the Trace than most travelers.
My party? Really? Speaking of habits. Because he was fairly sure Sage thought of it as his party, and Finch as his, and for all Dag knew, Ash felt the same. Arkady was the one certain exception. Despite Dag’s stern remarks on self-reliance, Barr as silent conspirator had made sure Arkady and all his gear were loaded in good time, giving him no excuse to either break back to New Moon in a panic, or drag his feet hoping for an envoy of peace to pelt up.
The entire Smith family turned out to send their son off to his new life in the scary north, with lots of little presents popped into the back of the wagon at the last moment. A couple of folks from Ash’s family turned up, too. In the mob, it took a while for Dag to notice that there seemed to be no one at all for Calla and Indigo. There might be half a dozen sound reasons for this, starting with prior good-byes like Finch’s. But Dag’s mind picked at it anyway, as a six-mule wagon, seven riders, and four pack animals turned onto the Trace and struck north.
It was another dry day, thankfully. The Trace along here was well maintained by the villages that lived on its bounty, with deep creeks sturdily bridged, shallow ones with fords that nearly qualified as paved.
Even the mud puddles today were minor, to be splashed through cheerfully, and not yard-deep traps for wagon wheels. After a good night’s sleep, Fawn rode along on Magpie with her head up, taking in everything.
Unaware of how busily that bright ground in her belly swirled, self-making of the highest order. Now, there was true magic, world magic.
After an hour, the caravan sorted itself out and settled into the rhythm of the road. The way here was wide and straight. Dag took the chance to ride up alongside Finch, trailed by his pair of plodding pack mules. Fawn cast Dag a curious glance and kicked Magpie up on Finch’s other side. Finch gave them both friendly smiles, making it easy for Dag to start.
“Known Sage long? ”
“Oh, years. His papa’s was the closest big smithy to us, so we’d go every couple of months for repairs and special shoeing and whatnot. Stayed the night in Alligator Hat, usually. We two tads used to play together while the work got done. As we got bigger, his papa and big brothers let us work together alongside them. They taught me a lot.”
Finch vented a nostalgic sigh.
“And Ash? ”
“He’s more a friend of Sage’s than mine. Lives near the Hat. His family has a poor strip of a farm, so he always knew he’d have to find another way. He’s been talking about the north for years.”
“And, ah, Calla and Indigo? ”
Fawn shot him a look across Finch’s saddlebow, aware, as the boy was not, of the reason for Dag’s newly acute interest in half bloods. And hers. Dag could just about see her ears prick up.
“They used to be Sage’s neighbors when they were younger. Their folks had a harness shop on the square.”
Dag considered his next question carefully. Were Calla and Indigo’s bloodlines known to their village? Bastardy was not a Lakewalker concept.
Any child born to a Lakewalker woman was a full member of her tent, whether the parents were string-bound or not. As long as the father is a Lakewalker, too, Dag reminded himself. Farmers held a stricter view of paternity, tied as it was to their inheritances. If these siblings were the secret gifts of some passing patroller, Dag didn’t want to be the first to explode their lives with the news. He finally settled on, “Tell me about their parents.”
Fawn’s brows twitched; she gave him an approving nod. He’d evidently got that one right, good.
“Oh, yeah, you would be interested in that, wouldn’t you? ” Finch said blithely. “Their papa was a Lakewalker maker from Moss River. He left his camp to marry their mama, but he took her farmer name just like you did Fawn’s. Funny. I’m not sure how they first met; something to do with their trade, I think.”
Dag relaxed a little.
Fawn asked, “What happened to them? They weren’t out for the send-off this morning, were they? ”
“Oh, no. Eight, ten years ago, Alligator Hat had the worst outbreak of yellow fever-they still call it the Fever Summer. Indigo’s whole family came down with it. His mama and little sister died, but Indigo and his papa and Calla got better.”
Fawn’s eyes widened. “Oh my.”
Fawn had only seen the south in its more idyllic seasons. Dag was just as glad she’d be spared the full