“Let’s do what?” Evan said warily.
“Let’s straighten out his leg. Hold him down.”
Maybe it was because she’d been born to money and was used to ordering people around. Or maybe it was because Evan was curious about this odd pair marooned on the Desert Coast—the angry, wounded soldier mage and his blueblood mother. Whatever the reason, Evan ended up restraining his would-be killer while the boy’s mother straightened his leg and bound it to the fence post to keep it in position.
During this operation, Destin woke up and spewed an entire book of wetland curses. This time, Frances scowled at him as if disappointed, but said nothing. Afterward, she brewed up some willow bark tea mingled with turtleweed, and that put her son out like a sailor at Solstice. They returned to the gathering room and she brewed some tay for the two of them.
“You drink tay?” Evan said, surprised. “I didn’t think wetlanders went in for that.”
“I come from a family of merchants,” she said, not specifying where. “They brought back tay from abroad, and I acquired a taste for it. My brother had done business in Endru, so he was the one who arranged the purchase of this property years ago, in case . . . in case I ever needed it.” She had a way of seeming like she was confiding in him and yet, at the same time, holding information back.
Evan sipped his tay, wishing it were something stronger. Now he was homeless and jobless both.
“What happened in the barn?”
Evan looked up, startled. “Like I said. A misunderstanding.”
“I need more detail than that,” she said.
Evan found himself telling her the truth, without trying to pretty it up. By now, he was too tired to lie.
She frowned. “So . . . my son tried to kill you, and you defended yourself by blowing up the barn?”
“You’re giving me more credit than I deserve,” Evan said. “I’m sorry about the barn, though.”
“So. You’re a mage, like he is.”
“Well. Not exactly like he is,” Evan said, shrugging. “He seems to know what he’s doing. I don’t—not really. And there seem to be some differences in . . . what we can do, and how.”
She thought about this for a long moment. “Would you like to stay here?” she said, pouring more tay.
Evan all but spat out his tay. “Excuse me?”
“We could use some help,” she said, “especially until Destin’s leg heals.” Seeing the expression on his face, she rushed on. “I don’t mean it as some kind of penance for breaking his leg. You could continue to stay here, rent free, at least when you’re in port, and help with some things.”
Playing for time, Evan said, “I’ll tell you one thing—you’ll find it hard to make a living as a farmer in Carthis.”
“You’re an expert on farming, are you?”
“No,” Evan said. “I want nothing to do with farming. But I’m an expert on living in Carthis. It rains in the mountains here, not on the shore.”
“That’s why we bought a place on the river,” Frances said. “So the water would come to us.”
“Aye, it will,” Evan said, “along with the dragons.”
Frances turned a little pale. “Dragons?”
“There are dragons in the mountains that come down here to hunt. Livestock looks like lunch to them. You may come home one day to find your house in flames and your pastures empty.”
“Dragons,” Frances murmured, as if she were making a mental note. Fix the fence. Deal with the dragons. Then she returned to her topic like a dog to a favorite bone.
“We could pay you,” she said, sweetening the deal. “Destin could teach you more about magery,” she said. “He’s really well schooled in it.”
That’s what you get for admitting a vulnerability, Evan thought. Why can’t somebody teach me about magic with no strings attached?
“Why would he do that?” Evan said. “What’s in it for him?”
“I think it would be good for Destin.”
“I’m not a nursemaid.”
“I’ll be the nursemaid,” Frances snapped. “As long as he needs one. I was thinking he could use a friend.”
Evan rolled his eyes. “We didn’t exactly hit it off.”
Frances sighed. “He’s angry, and he has reason,” she said. “It’s hard for him to trust anyone.”
“Turning it around, why should I trust you? You said you were on the run. What’s to stop you from creeping in and cutting my throat while I sleep—just to make sure I don’t give your secrets away? What if whoever’s hunting you shows up? Am I going to be the innocent victim in a vendetta killing?” Evan felt guilty bringing that up, since it seemed more likely that the empress would show up than enemies from across the sea.
“It’s possible,” Frances said. She smoothed the skirts of her gown. “It’s a risk—just like it’s a risk for us to take you in. But you could have killed Destin—and me, too, if you’d wanted to. You didn’t. You showed mercy. I think you both have lessons to teach each other.”
Evan weighed the pros and cons. He needed a place to stay, and he could use a job in the near term. He could stable Djillaba here and save the cost of a stall in town. He wanted to learn about amulets and see if they might help him manage his power.
“All right,” Evan said. “We’ll try it and see how it goes.”
6SOLDIER
The agreement Evan had made with Frances ushered in months of being ordered around by soldier-mage-engineer Destin Noname. Evan had some experience with carpentry from his time on board ship. Left to his own devices, he could have built something that would have kept the rain out and met his own admittedly loose standards. It was a barn, after all, and not a palace.
Destin was a more exacting master. He’d accepted Evan’s presence grudgingly, but seemed determined to make sure that he and his mother got value for Evan’s maintenance. The wetlander saw the project as more than a chance to repair the barn—it was an opportunity to build the barn of his dreams.
