a wet broom. Scolding and punishment followed swiftly.
Deep in the gloom of his supply wagon exile, Palimak gave a long, heartfelt sigh. It was so unfair. The more he thought about it, the sadder he became. So sad he thought he might even let himself cry, although he was probably too old for that and if somebody saw him he'd never get to run in the fields and play just like everybody else.
A tear was leaking down his cheek, with more due to follow, when his grandfather opened the back flap and jumped into the wagon.
'If you're not busy, son,' his grandfather said, 'I could use a little help.'
Palimak hastily wiped the tear away and composed himself. 'I'm not busy,' he said. 'What do you want me to do, grandfather?'
'I'm taking over the lead wagon,' Khadji said. 'We just added a new ox to the team and she's so green she's going to need some watching. I can't mind the road and her at the same time. Not very well, anyway. And I thought I could use a real good pair of eyes to help me.'
'I've got real good eyes, grandfather,' Palimak said, spreading the lids wide and looking this way and that. 'See?'
'You're just the man for the job,' his grandfather said and in a few minutes Palimak was ensconced on the seat of the lead wagon, glaring for all he was worth at the worrisome ox.
'Now, I feel much better,' his grandfather said, cracking his whip to get the team moving. 'No telling what a green animal will get into its head.'
'But she's white, grandfather,' Palimak said, pointing at the young ox. 'Why do you keep saying she's green?'
Khadji buried a smile and pretended to examine the ox, which, as Palimak had said, was white as snow.
'Hmm,' he said. 'Now that you mention it, she
Palimak was disappointed. 'Then you don't need me to help you watch her anymore?' he said. 'Since she's white, I mean. And it's the green ones that give you all the trouble.'
'Oh, white's worse,' Khadji said. 'Much worse than green. Give me a green ox any day, but spare me the white.' He gave Palimak a nudge. 'You just watch her extra hard,' he said. 'Now that we know she's white.'
Palimak glared at the ox even harder, so hard his eyes started to burn. 'Why don't you take a little rest for a minute, son,' Khadji said when he noticed the boy blinking fiercely. 'I think she'll be all right for a mile or two now that she knows you're along.'
The boy relaxed, easing closer to his grandfather and enjoying his company. A long silence followed. It was comfortable at first, but then it extended and expanded, making room for alarming thoughts, like the unfortunate matter of the wagon he'd set on fire. His grandfather stirred and Palimak had the horrible thought that Khadji was about to bring up the subject. Which was just awful. Everything was so peaceful and nice but it was going to be spoiled by another scolding. And maybe other punishment, as well. You could never tell with adults. They were like, like … the white ox, which his grandfather said was worse than even the green ones and you never knew what they'd do next.
By way of preamble his grandfather hawked, then turned and spat into the dust and Palimak knew he was in for it.
'I don't know about you,' his grandfather said, 'but ever since we took the main track I've been going crazy with boredom.'
Palimak gaped in surprise. 'Me too!' he said.
'I don't want to dare the gods for more trouble than we already have,' his grandfather continued, 'but when we were running and hiding all the time at least things were interesting. Sure, we might have been caught by Iraj, but that just made it more exciting. Our minds were always busy thinking up new things, or tricks, or guessing what Iraj might be up to.' He glanced at Palimak, smiling. 'Right?'
'Right!' Palimak nodded hard for emphasis.
'So here we are on the main track,' his grandfather went on, 'and they tell us we're making excellent time. Thirty miles a day!' He snorted. 'Feels more like a thousand before the day is done.'
He shook his head. 'Nothing to do and all day to do it in,' he said. 'It's hard to bear sometimes, I tell you. Very hard to bear.'
Another sigh, this one longer. 'In fact,' he said, 'I'm feeling like that right now. Like I can't stand it anymore.'
He paused, as if thinking, then, 'Here,' he said, 'take over for a moment, will you?' And he handed Palimak the reins.
The boy was stunned at this display of trust. He straightened up and tried to snap the reins. It came out as a disappointingly slow wave that died before it reached the first oxen, but his grandfather nodded in approval.
'That's the way to do it,' he said. 'Nice and gentle. A wise driver is careful not to frighten his animals.'
Heartened by the praise, Palimak sat taller still. Khadji fumbled in his pocket and took out a small lump of moist clay wrapped in oil cloth.
'Here's what I like to do to keep from getting bored to death,' his grandfather said, working the clay between his hands.
Palimak gaped as his grandfather squeezed and pinched, turning out one little figure after the other-a goat, a bear, an ox and even a camel with such a long neck and silly expression on its face that the boy burst out laughing.
'May I try?' he asked.
He'd seen Khadji and sometimes even his father make pots and jars and dishes. All useful things, but dull as mud as far as Palimak was concerned. It'd never occurred to him you could create such interesting figures.
'Why not?' Khadji said. He fished another oil cloth packet from his pocket. 'I've been saving this for something special,' he said. 'So far I haven't thought of anything, but maybe you can.'
He traded the reins for the packet and watched from the corner of his eye as Palimak opened it. The boy's face brightened when he saw the unusual color of the clay. Instead of a dull gray it was a lustrous green, so deep that it was almost black when looked at from certain angles.
'It's beautiful!' the boy breathed. He looked up at Khadji. 'Can I make anything I want?' he asked.
'Anything at all.'
'Of course you can,' his grandfather said. 'It's yours, now.'
Palimak stared at the clay long and hard. Then his face cleared. 'I know!' he said. And he started squeezing and molding in the clay.
'What're you thinking of making?' Khadji asked.
'I can't tell you,' Palimak said with a sly grin. 'But I'll give you a hint. It's a surprise for somebody.
'A really big surprise!'
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kalasariz moved cautiously through the night forest, keeping a discreet distance between himself and his quarry. His shape changer senses were tuned to their highest pitch and he could smell the sulfurous odor of the witch clinging to the brush lining the narrow trail. It was so powerful it nearly obscured the king's spoor, that mixture of fresh blood and old graves that marked all shape changers.
Behind him, sprawled on a great field, the army slept. Except for a few key sentries-all in the pay of Kalasariz-no one knew the king was out this night.
The spymaster seethed as he followed the king and Old Sheesan through the forest. Unless they were of his own making, Kalasariz detested all mysteries. And this midnight journey certainly fit that definition.
He wasn't as worried about what they were up to as he was at being left out. From the outset he'd given Old Sheesan explicit orders she was report every word and movement the king made when in her presence. This was
