Against The World

Chapter 61: Where the Road Leads

The farmers rejected my first contribution to spring planting.

I had offered to clear an entire field before breakfast.

A woman named Fenna took one look at the damp soil, then at my hands, and said, “No.”

I lowered my hands.

“May I ask why?”

“You may.”

She waited.

“Why?”

“Because it is wet.”

“I can see that.”

“Then you are halfway there.”

Behind me, Evelyn made an unhelpful sound.

Fenna crouched, lifted a handful of earth, and pressed it between her fingers. It held together in a sticky lump.

“Work it like this and you will make clods that dry harder than brick. Then you can spend the summer being very powerful at them.”

I looked across the field.

It appeared to contain a considerable amount of mud.

“Later, then.”

“When I say.”

I nodded.

Evelyn waited until Fenna had gone to inspect a drainage ditch.

“You took that well.”

“I am becoming accustomed to specialists.”

“Your expression suggested a brief struggle.”

“It was private.”

“It was on your face.”

I looked at her boots.

They were already muddy.

She followed my gaze.

“Do not.”

“I have said nothing.”

“You were remembering the market.”

I offered her my arm.

“Only fondly.”

Spring had reached the valley unevenly.

The slopes facing south carried patches of green. Sheltered corners still held dirty snow. Water hurried through every channel we had cleared, giving Aldren several opportunities to explain why his drainage estimates had deserved more attention.

We listened.

Mostly because he was standing beside water that was going exactly where he had said it should.

The eastern plots had been divided into sections for vegetables, grain, and shared kitchen gardens. Seed remained precious.

Nobody scattered it simply because the king wanted to see something growing.

Fenna had made that clear too.

I helped carry stakes instead.

It was less impressive than moving an entire field.

It was also what she needed.

By midday, the first rows had been marked.

Children from Abigail’s class arrived with a basket of wooden labels. They had written the crop names themselves.

Some were easier to read than others.

Lettie carried a sign that appeared to say carrots with considerable determination.

Evelyn knelt beside her.

“Where does this one go?”

Lettie pointed toward the nearest stake.

“Fenna said here.”

“Then here it goes.”

I watched them press the marker into the ground together.

There was no food yet.

Just a small piece of wood naming something we hoped would arrive.

It still felt worth coming out to see.

The Bellcross request reached council that afternoon.

Jalen wanted the two civic units to remain for another month.

Eleanor objected immediately.

“They were assigned for the first repairs.”

“The first repairs took longer,” Mary said.

“They usually do. We still need the units back.”

Aldren turned the work schedule toward us.

The lower market road required reinforcement before the spring traffic increased. One bridge approach had begun settling. The next permanent housing block needed foundation work.

Bellcross needed its storehouse roof completed, a well cover fitted, and the schoolroom made safe.

Every item sounded necessary.

That was the difficulty.

I looked at the letter.

“Can we send two different units?”

Eleanor folded her arms.

“From where?”

“The quarry?”

“Then we slow the stone deliveries.”

“Highfell?”

“Hessa has just begun moving inspection equipment through the upper yard.”

I sat back.

Two hundred sixteen constructs had sounded like an enormous number when we woke them.

Apparently a growing kingdom could keep almost anything busy.

Joren leaned over the schedule.

“What do the people at Bellcross actually need the units for?”

Mary consulted the enclosed list.

“Lifting the storehouse trusses. Moving stone at the well. Clearing the collapsed school wall.”

“All heavy work,” Mara said.

“Yes.”

“And after that?”

“Ordinary carpentry and masonry.”

Joren tapped the page.

“Then could they finish those three tasks first and return the units?”

Eleanor reached for the letter.

She read it again.

Aldren shifted his chair closer.

Within minutes, the two of them were rearranging the work sequence.

I started to speak.

Evelyn’s fingers touched my sleeve beneath the table.

I stopped.

She did not look at me.

She kept listening.

One unit could return after the trusses were placed. The second could finish the stonework while the local crew began roofing.

The market reinforcement could begin from the southern end with the equipment already there.

No one would get exactly the schedule they wanted.

Both places would get enough.

Eleanor marked the revised dates.

“Send that to Jalen. Ask whether his crew can manage it.”

Mary wrote the instruction.

Then the council moved on.

I looked at Evelyn.

She smiled slightly.

After the meeting, I asked, “Was I about to interfere?”

“Yes.”

“I might have made a useful suggestion.”

“You might have. They were making one already.”

That seemed unfairly accurate.

“What did you think I was going to say?”

“That you could go to Bellcross and lift everything yourself.”

I paused.

She folded her arms.

“I know you rather well.”

“An alarming development.”

She leaned up and kissed my cheek.

“I find it convenient.”

Merrow returned two days later with the first planting report.

The fields nearest Bellcross were being prepared. The repaired well was usable. Four more households intended to return once they had collected their belongings from Greykeep.

Jalen had accepted the revised work schedule.

He had also added a note.

Tell Eleanor the northern truss was marked incorrectly in the old plan. We checked before lifting.

Eleanor read it.

Then nodded.

“Good.”

I looked at Merrow.

“Did she just congratulate him?”

“Yes,” Merrow said. “I will make certain he understands.”

There was another message beneath the work report.

A formal invitation.

The first restored communal oven would be lit in ten days. The town hoped the king and queen would visit.

I glanced at Evelyn.

She was already looking at me.

“This one actually asks for us,” I said.

“I can read.”

“And the date does not conflict with Highfell.”

“No.”

“Or Alder Rise.”

“No.”

I waited.

She smiled.

“Then let us go.”

The pleasure that brought me was almost embarrassing.

I had wanted to see the open door in Jalen’s drawing.

Now someone who lived behind it wanted us there.

That was better than arriving because I had decided they needed me.

The good news did not last through the afternoon.

A clerk brought the latest hearing notice from Caerwyn.

Voss’s advocates had challenged several witness statements. They argued that people sheltered by Greykeep had been influenced by gratitude toward its ruler.

They questioned the copying of records.

They questioned the motives of the magistrates.

They questioned whether frightened people could accurately remember dates.

Mary read the notice in silence.

Then she opened a drawer and removed a thick folder.

“What is that?” I asked.

“The copying records.”

“Of course.”

“Who handled each original. When the copies were made. Who witnessed the seals. Where the originals remain.”

She placed it beside the notice.

“The court may ask.”

Evelyn pulled a chair closer.

“What are they asking Merrow to do?”

“Give testimony in person.”

Merrow stood near the door.

“When?”

“In three weeks. Subject to travel arrangements.”

She nodded.

I studied her face.

“You do not have to answer immediately.”

“I have had months to think about it.”

“That does not mean it will be easy.”

“No.”

She took the notice from Mary.

“But I want him to hear what happened after his wagons left.”

There was nothing I could say to improve that.

We arranged an escort.

We arranged someone to take over her duties.

And we asked whom she wanted beside her.

She chose Jalen.

Mary began working out whether he could leave Bellcross after the storehouse lift.

The work of the kingdom moved around one woman’s need to speak.

I was glad we could make it move.

That evening, Alistair found me in the training yard.

I was already holding the practice sword.

He looked pleased.

That should have warned me.

“We will try something different.”

“Less falling?”

“Different, not miraculous.”

Melody sat on the fence nearby.

I pointed at her.

“No commentary.”

“I have made no promises.”

Alistair placed three wooden targets across the yard.

“Your magic moves a great deal of force. Today, we practice directing a little of it.”

“I have been doing that with the stoves.”

“While standing still.”

He took his place opposite me.

“You will move. Parry. Keep your feet. And strike the marked target when I call it.”

“With lightning?”

“With air.”

Melody looked disappointed.

“No burning the targets,” Alistair added.

“I had not suggested it.”

“You glanced at your sword.”

I began to suspect everyone was attending meetings about my expressions.

The exercise went badly.

At first.

I could parry him.

Sometimes.

I could strike a target with air.

Usually.

Combining the two resulted in one target falling over, another turning around, and Alistair tapping me firmly on the shoulder.

“You stopped watching me.”

“The target moved.”

“You moved it.”

Melody covered her mouth.

I started again.

By the time the courtyard lamps were lit, I managed three clean parries and one accurate strike without losing my footing.

Alistair lowered his blade.

“Enough.”

“I can do another.”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

I knew that tone.

I lowered mine.

Melody jumped down from the fence and handed me water.

“You are improving.”

I looked at her suspiciously.

“Was that sincere?”

“Do not make me regret it.”

I drank.

Across the yard, Evelyn stood beneath the arch.

She had watched the last attempt.

I tried to stand less tiredly.

She smiled as though she had noticed.

Of course she had.

Ten days later, we traveled to Bellcross.

The road had dried enough for wagons, though ruts remained deep in shaded places. We stopped at a newly repaired shelter where Merrow’s crews had posted directions and water warnings.

Nobody recognized us immediately.

Then the keeper looked from Evelyn’s face to the Crown clasp at my collar.

He nearly dropped the bread knife.

I asked whether the roof leaked.

He recovered enough to tell me exactly where.

Evelyn wrote it down.

Apparently even a royal visit could become useful if you asked the right question.

Bellcross appeared in the late afternoon.

I recognized it from the map before I recognized it as a town.

The market square.

The western lane.

The three burned stores.

Their blackened walls remained.

But smoke rose from repaired chimneys.

A wagon stood outside the new storehouse.

And children were carrying baskets toward the communal oven.

Jalen met us near the road.

He looked thinner than when he had left Greykeep, but his face was open and lively.

“You came.”

“You invited us.”

“Sometimes important people say yes because it is easier than saying no.”

Evelyn dismounted.

“We wanted to see you.”

He looked at her.

Then smiled.

“I will show you what we have done.”

He did.

Not hurriedly.

Not apologizing for what remained unfinished.

The storehouse trusses were up.

The well had a sound cover.

The school wall was repaired, though its plaster would have to wait.

At the communal oven, Anwen stood with flour on her sleeves.

She saw us and wiped her hands unnecessarily.

“The first batch is nearly ready.”

I looked toward the fire.

“Then our timing is excellent.”

She laughed.

“It was planned.”

That was even better.

We ate outside.

The evening was cool, but people had brought blankets and placed tables where the wind could not reach them easily.

The bread was uneven.

One loaf had burned along the bottom.

Another was slightly underdone.

Nobody seemed troubled.

They passed it around with stew and preserves and the kind of pride that made criticism impossible anyway.

Merrow sat beside Jalen.

She looked toward the rebuilt storehouse more than once.

Not the burned one.

The new one.

A little later, she stood and walked to the edge of the square.

I followed after a moment.

Across from us stood a low stone wall.

Names had been carved into it.

The seven lost on the mountain road.

Others from Bellcross.

A space remained at the end.

“For the ones we have not accounted for,” Merrow said.

I read the baker’s name.

The man who had tried to open the grain-store doors.

Below it, someone had placed a small loaf.

I stood beside her without speaking.

After a while, she said, “They remembered him.”

“Yes.”

“I was afraid the trial would become all anyone spoke about.”

Behind us, someone called for another basket of bread.

Merrow turned toward the sound.

“They are speaking about other things.”

I nodded.

She went back to the table.

I followed.

Evelyn found me after sunset beside the restored schoolroom.

I had been looking through the window.

There were benches inside.

A shelf.

A little pile of slates.

Nothing elaborate.

Everything useful.

She slipped her hand into mine.

“Worth waiting to be invited?”

“Yes.”

We walked toward the field beyond the last houses.

The first planted rows lay dark beneath the evening sky.

No shoots yet.

Just worked earth.

“They may still have a poor harvest,” I said.

“Yes.”

“The roof may leak again.”

“Probably.”

“The court may take longer than anyone wants.”

She stopped walking.

I looked at her.

“What?”

“You are searching for the part that can go wrong.”

I glanced toward the town.

“I suppose I am.”

She took my other hand.

“You are allowed to see what went right too.”

I thought of Jalen showing us the trusses.

Anwen lifting bread from the oven.

Merrow returning to the table.

The children had not asked whether they were leaving in the morning.

That mattered.

“Yes,” I said.

Evelyn smiled.

Then she kissed me beneath the first stars.

From the square, someone called our names.

There was more food.

A song had begun.

We went back together.

For once, I did not make a list on the way.

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