“We understand,” Caemus answered.
“Good. And I know enough Vendan to know when I’ve been called a horse’s ass. Let’s get this straight right now, Caemus. I’m going to offer you a deal, and it’s a helluva one. But it’s only good for this minute, right now, right here, and it will never happen again because I hope to never lay eyes on you again after today. We’re going to move you. Everything. And we’re going to rebuild your settlement on a better piece of land that’s far away from us.” Jase spit the terms and details out firmly, then took another long, scrutinizing scan of the burned buildings. “We took your shorthorn as payment for trespassing, but we didn’t do this and don’t know who did. We’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen again, but if you ever wrongly accuse us again, it’s going to be more than a barn that you lose. Accept or not?”
Before Caemus could answer, a small boy who’d been standing behind him ran forward wielding a stick and swung it into Jase’s knee with a loud smack.
Jase bent over, wincing, cursing, grabbing his knee with one hand and yanking the boy by the collar with the other. “You little—”
“Don’t hurt him!” Caemus said, stepping forward.
Jase looked puzzled by Caemus’s command but turned his attention back to the boy. “What’s your name?” he growled.
The boy was smaller than Nash, and even though an angry man held him by his collar, his large brown eyes were still full of defiance. “Kerry of Fogswallow!” he snapped back.
“Well, Kerry of Fogswallow, you are personally going to help me dig fence posts. A lot of them. Understand?”
“I’m not afraid of you!”
Jase’s eyes narrowed. “Then I guess I’ll have to work harder on that.”
The boy’s eyes grew just a little bit wider. Jase released him, and the boy ran back behind Caemus.
“We accept,” Caemus said.
I heaved out a controlled sigh. As Synové might say, this was off to a jolly start.
The next hour was spent walking the property, taking inventory, assessing what was salvageable, loading up tools and chickens, grains and crates, dishes and people. As the brothers surveyed the grounds, I sensed there was a sobering awareness of how little time it took to collect all the Vendans’ worldly goods. At times, Jase simply stared, as if he was trying to figure out why they were here at all. He eyed the tethers of bones hanging from their hips too. Vendans didn’t wear them into town because of the attention they drew, but here the bones clattered at their sides as a remembrance of sacrifice.
Wren, Synové, and I quickly helped a few women pluck ripe beans from the garden, dig up root vegetables, and then layer them into barrels with straw. We pulled up the herbs, root balls and all, and placed them in crates for replanting later. Anything that could go would go. As we worked, I spotted Jase, Gunner, and Mason walking up a hill some distance away. It seemed odd because there was nothing out there—no outbuildings or livestock. They carried rocks in their hands, and when they reached the crest they placed them on a mound of rocks that I hadn’t noticed before.
When they returned from the hill, I asked Jase about it. He said it was a memorial marking the spot where Greyson Ballenger had covered his dead grandfather with rocks to keep animals from dragging away the body.
*
The new site was fifteen miles south, but with so many wagons, supplies, and horses, it took the whole afternoon to get there. On the long ride, Jase and I rode at the head of the caravan together. He was mostly quiet, still stewing over something.
“So you understand some Vendan after all?” I asked.
He shook his head and smirked. “No, but some words don’t need interpretation. It’s all in the delivery.”
“Well, you were astonishingly accurate. I guess it’s not hard to interpret a club to the knee either. How’s it doing?”
“I have a decent knot. I’m lucky the little demon didn’t crack my kneecap.”
“I guess he’s the lucky one, getting off with digging fence posts.”
“It’ll be good for him. We’ll feed everyone first. They can’t dig on empty stomachs.” He reached around behind him and began rummaging through his pack. “I almost forgot. I meant to give this to you earlier.” He handed me a small lidded basket. “Go ahead. Open it.”
I pulled the lid off and gawked at the small square. “Is this what I think…” I put my nose close to take a deep whiff.
“Sage cake,” Jase confirmed.
“You remembered!” I broke off a corner and shoved it in my mouth. I moaned with pleasure. It was every bit as heavenly as I recalled. I licked the crumbs from my fingers. “Here,” I said, leaning over and popping a piece into his mouth. He nodded approval, swallowing, but clearly not loving it as much as I did. “How?” I asked. “Did Dolise—”
“No. I hired a new cook. You can thank her yourself when we get back to Tor’s Watch.”
*
We entered a wide, gentle valley. Low, forest-covered hills were on one side, a meandering river on the other, and dark lush grass not yet brown with summer waved beneath us. When I spotted the supply wagons in the distance, I knew this was the site. By now Caemus was riding at our sides, and we all paused, taking it in. It was breathtaking. Caemus got down from his horse and grabbed a spade from a wagon. He shoved it into the earth and turned it over, revealing a chunk of dark, rich, loamy soil. It crumbled easily as he passed the spade over it. I remembered him hoeing the hard clay ground at the other site.
He looked up at Jase, his expression stern. “Good soil.”
“I know,” Jase answered.
The rest of the Vendans poured out of the wagons, walking the rest of the way. I watched them stoop, feeling the ground, running their hands over the grass. The scent here was fresh and full of promise.
I got down from my horse too and walked in circles, taking in every view. A nearby forest for hunting and wood. A close abundant water source. Good soil and level land. Some stately oaks in the center to provide shade. I looked back at Jase, still in his saddle, my throat swelling. Caemus and I had both doubted him.
“It’s perfect, Jase. Perfect.”
“Not perfect. But they’ll get better production. And it’s a tucked-away valley. They won’t be bothered here.”
Like they were at the last site. I believed Jase, and I think maybe Caemus did too. It wasn’t the Ballengers who had attacked the settlers. But whoever did wanted it to look like them.
I watched the Vendans continuing to walk down the valley. I saw the wonder in their footsteps, and a different kind of wonder crept into me. This site was far superior to the last one. Was the Eislandian king really so inept and uninformed about the northern reaches that he randomly chose the old site? Was it only coincidence that it happened to be close to Tor’s Watch and in clear view of the Ballenger rock memorial? Or was it a deliberate choice, meant to stir trouble? To be a burr in the saddle of the family? Was that his revenge for not getting the full bounty of the taxes the Ballengers collected?
Jase surveyed the valley, calculations already spinning behind his eyes. He was far more invested in this than he would admit. The emotion that had swelled in my throat now crept to my chest.
What is this?
The answer was never as close to my lips as it was now.
“We should catch up,” he said. “There’s only a few good hours of daylight left, and I want to get some of the settlement layout established with Caemus. I have some ideas where the barn should go. And I promised you a fence post. I want to dig that much before I leave in the morning.”
“You have Kerry to help you now too.”
He rubbed his knee and his mouth twisted with a malevolent grin. “Yes, I’ll keep the little urchin busy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
JASE