Masen looked at the weapon in surprise, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. He grunted and dropped the head, leaning it against the fence. “Wasn’t going to do anything.”
Dawn pursed her lips. “That’ll be twenty shells.”
Masen gaped. “Twenty shells?! For stitching a cow?”
“Ten for the stitching,” Dawn said. “And ten for the sleep draught and hogroot poultices my rat son made.”
“I won’t pay it,” Masen said. “Neither you nor your mud-skinned husband can make me.”
“I don’t need Relan for that,” Dawn said, smiling, “though we both know he could make you. No, all I need is to tell Marta Speaker you won’t pay, and Maybell will be grazing in my yard before tomorrow.”
Masen glared. “You ent been right in the head since you married that desert rat, Dawn. Already cost most of your patients. Lucky to get cow work these days, but that won’t last when folk hear you’re charging twenty shells for it.”
Dawn crossed her arms. “That’s Mistress Dawn to you, Masen Bales, and now it’s twenty-five. Call one more name, I’ll go see Marta right now.”
Masen began muttering curses, but he stomped off to the house, coming back with a worn leather bag. He counted the smooth lacquered shells into Dawn’s hand. “Fifteen…sixteen…seventeen. That’s all I got right now, Mistress. You’ll have the rest in a week. Honest word.”
“I’d better,” Dawn said. “Come along, Briar.”
The two of them walked down the road until they came to the fork, one way leading to their home, the other to the rest of town.
“You run off now, Briar. Enjoy the sun for a few hours. I’ll see you at supper.” Dawn smiled and pressed a handful of shells into his hand. “In case you want to buy joint of meat and a sugar candy.”
Briar felt a thrill as he made his way into town, running his fingers over the smooth lacquer of the shells. He’d never had money of his own before, and had to suppress a whoop of glee.
He went to the butcher shop, where Mrs. Butcher sold hot meat pies and laid a shell on the counter.
Mrs. Butcher looked at him suspiciously. “Where’d you get that shell, Mudboy? You steal it?”
Briar shook his head. “Mother gave it to me for helping her save Tami Bales’s cow.”
Mrs. Butcher grunted and took the shell, handing him a steaming pie in return.
He went next to the sugarmaker, who fixed a glare on Briar the moment he came into the shop. His look did not soften until Briar produced a pair of shells to pay for the candies he collected from the display, all wrapped in twisted corn husks. These he stuffed in his pockets, eating the meat pie as he walked back out of town. The sun was bright on his shoulders, and it felt warm and safe. The memory of the wood demon snarling at him seemed a distant thing.
He walked down to the lake and watched the fishing boats for a time. It was a clear day, and he could just make out Lakton in the distance, the great city floating far out on the lake. He followed the shoreline, skipping stones across the water.
He stopped short, spotting a pair of webbed tracks in the mud left by a bank demon. He imagined the frog-like creature leaping onto the shore and catching him with its long sticky tongue. The tracks made him shiver, and suddenly he had to pee desperately. He barely lowered his pants in time, thankful there was no one to see.
“Brave,” he muttered to himself, knowing the lie for what it was.
Late in the afternoon, Briar hid behind the house and pulled out one of the sugar candies. He unwrapped the treasure and chewed slowly, savoring every bite as his father did with bacon.
“Ay, Briarpatch!” a voice called. Briar looked up to see Hardey and Hale approaching.
“Where’d you get that candy?” Hale called, balling a fist.
“We get to haul trash all day, and he gets extra bacon and candy?” Hardey asked no one in particular.
Briar froze. His mind ran through all the things he might say, but he knew none of them would make any difference. His brothers were going to knock him down and take the candy, promising worse if he told their parents.
He ran. Over the woodpiles, quick as a hare, and then cut through the laundry lines as his brothers charged after him. Sunny and Sky were collecting the clean wash in baskets, and he barely missed running into them.
“Ay, watch it, Briarpatch!” Sky shouted.
“Stop him, he’s got candy!” he heard Hardey cry. Briar dodged around a hanging sheet and kept low as he doubled back around the house, running into the woods out back.
He could hear the others close behind, and made for the goldwood tree where the wood demon rose. Briar had climbed the tree a hundred times, and knew every knot and branch. He swung up into its boughs like he was a wood demon himself, then froze and held his breath. The others ran by, and Briar counted fifty breaths before he dared move.
There was a small hollow where the branches met. Briar packed the candy in dry leaves and left it hidden there, praying to the Creator it would not rain. Then he dropped back to the ground and ran home.