Safrit made a bed among the supplies from the crew’s blankets. Brand tried to tell her he could walk but they could all see he couldn’t.
“You’ll lie there and you’ll like it!” she snapped, her pointed finger in his face.
So that was that. Koll perched on a barrel beside him and the wagon set lurching off down the slope, Brand wincing at every jolt.
“You saved my life,” muttered the lad, after a while.
“You’re quick. You’d have got out of the way.”
“No I wouldn’t. I was looking through the Last Door. Let me thank you, at least.”
They looked at each other for a moment. “Fair enough,” said Brand. “I’m thanked.”
“How did you get that strong?”
“Work, I guess. On the docks. At the oar. In the forge.”
“You’ve done smith work?”
“For a woman named Gaden. She took her husband’s forge on when he died and turned out twice the smith he’d been.” Brand remembered the feel of the hammer, the ringing of the anvil, the heat of the coals. Never thought he’d miss it, but he did. “It’s a good trade, working iron. Honest.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“Always dreamed of being a warrior. Winning a place in the songs. Joining a crew.” Brand watched Odda and Dosduvoi squabbling under the weight of their ropes, Fror shaking his head in disgust, and smiled. “It was a cleaner crew than this I had in mind, but you have to take the family you’re given.” The pain was less but it seemed Yarvi’s leaf had loosened his tongue. “My mother died when I was little. Told me to do good. My father didn’t want me …”
“My father died,” said Koll. “Long time ago.”
“Well, now you’ve got Father Yarvi. And all these brothers around you.” Brand caught Thorn’s eye for an instant before she frowned off sideways into the trees. “And Thorn for a sister too, for that matter.”
Koll gave his quick grin. “Mixed blessing, that.”
“Most blessings are. She’s prickly, but I reckon she’d fight to the death for any one of us.”
“She certainly does like fighting.”
“She certainly does.”
The wagon’s wheels squealed, the cargo rattled, the straining crew bellowed at one another. Then Koll said, quietly, “Are you my brother, then?”
“Guess so. If you’ll have me.”
“Reckon I could do worse.” The lad shrugged, as if it didn’t matter much either way. But Brand got the feeling it did.
WITH ONE LAST HEAVE the South Wind slid into the churning waters of the Denied and a ragged cheer went up.
“We made it,” said Brand, hardly believing it. “Did we make it?”
“Aye. You can all tell your grandchildren you carted a ship over the tall hauls.” Rulf wiped the sweat from his forehead on one thick forearm. “But we’ve some rowing still to do today!” he called, bringing the celebrations to a quick end. “Let’s get her loaded up and make a few miles before sundown!”
“On your feet, idler.” Dosduvoi swung Brand down from the wagon and onto his still-shaky legs.
Father Yarvi was talking to the leader of the drovers in the gods knew what strange tongue, then they both broke into laughter and gave each other a long hug.
“What did he say?” asked Brand.
“Beware of the Horse People,” said Father Yarvi, “for they are savage and dangerous.”
Thorn frowned toward the oxen, finally freed of their burden. “I don’t see the joke.”
“I asked him what he says to the Horse People, when he trades with them.”
“And?”
“Beware of the Boat People, for they are savage and dangerous.”
“Who are the Boat People?” asked Koll.
“We are,” said Brand, grimacing as he clambered back aboard the South Wind. Every joint and sinew was aching and he went stooped in an old man’s shuffle to his place at the stern, flopping onto his sea chest the moment Thorn thumped it down for him.
“You sure you can row?”
“I’ll keep stroke with you all right,” he muttered back at her, though it felt like a hero’s effort just to sit up.
“You can barely keep stroke with me healthy,” she said.
“We’ll see if you can keep stroke with me, you mouthy string of gristle.” Rulf was standing behind them. “You’re in my place, lad.”
“Where do I go?”
Rulf nodded toward the steering oar on its platform above them. “Thought for this evening you might take the helm.”
Brand blinked. “Me?”
“Reckon you earned it.” And Rulf slapped him on the back as he helped him up.
Grunting at the pain, Brand turned, one arm over the steering oar, and saw the whole crew watching him. Safrit and Koll with the cargo, Odda and Dosduvoi and Fror at their oars, Father Yarvi standing with Skifr near the dove-carved prow and beyond it the Denied flowing away south, Mother Sun scattering gold upon the water.
Brand grinned wide. “I like the view from here.”
“Don’t get used to it,” said Rulf.