Their families surrounded the chosen men, weeping as if they had been singled out for a gruesome form of human sacrifice, like they’d be shoved outside the walls naked and unarmed. I shook my head with a faint sigh. Stalker watched with equal measures of repugnance and fascination, then he shook his head.
“Makes me glad I don’t have a family,” he said, low.
Fade nodded. “They have a chance at making it back, so long as they don’t do anything stupid.”
“I guess that’s the problem.” I smothered a grin, ducking my head so I wouldn’t attract attention on this somber occasion by laughing at their sorrow.
Momma Oaks joined us then, her expression creased. “I don’t know whether I’m worried to pieces or so proud I could bust. You’ll be the death of me, girl.”
Her words sobered me up fast. “I’m sorry.”
Edmund added, “I do wish you’d thought to talk this decision over with us. We have the responsibility for raising you.”
That was the problem. According to the system down below, I was grown. I wasn’t used to discussing my decisions with anyone. Those above me in the chain of command gave me orders. Otherwise I made up my own mind. I didn’t much like this reduction in status, and so I kept trying to achieve new standing that made up for my lack of birthdays.
Trying to be tactful, I said, more gently than usual, “You’re both very kind, and I regret giving you cause for concern, but—”
“You can’t be other than who you are,” Momma Oaks finished. “And that means doing what you think is right. I understand, child. Truly I do.”
“I’ll miss having you around the house,” Edmund said gruffly, and I believed he meant it. “I’ll make you some sturdy boots tonight, fit for fighting.”
“Thank you.”
Edmund regarded Stalker and Fade briefly and then said, “It seems to me your friends could use a pair too. I don’t promise they’ll be ready in the morning, but I’ll send a runner to the fields with them.”
I doubted he could find anybody willing, given the current dangers, but I didn’t want to discourage his kindness. So I said nothing while he knelt and took measurements for the two boys. Stalker in particular seemed stunned by the gesture; I wondered if anyone had ever done anything for him because they wanted to. It made me regret our lack of closeness because I couldn’t offer comfort without upsetting Fade. I wasn’t altogether sure why that should be so, but they had territorial instincts like all young animals, I supposed.
“I have to go tell Smith I won’t be around to help with the crafting for a while,” Stalker said, once Edmund finished with his feet.
“I’d better let Mr. Jensen know too.” Fade didn’t look pleased with the task.
I addressed the question to my foster parents, trying belatedly to make them feel included in my planning. “If you don’t mind, I’ll accompany Fade?”
“Come home after,” Momma Oaks said. “I’ll make you a special supper. Heaven only knows how long it will be before you have a decent meal again.”
Out there, food would be the least of our worries, but I recognized her need to contribute what she could. And who was to say that memory of a delicious dinner wouldn’t hold me later, reminding me why I was fighting? Nobody would hear from me that the cooks and builders didn’t matter. We all had our roles to play.
Fade linked our fingers as we moved toward the livery. His grasp felt warm and sure, a certainty in a world full of shifting ground. He was beautiful in a way that hurt me, but it was the sweetest pain I ever knew, better even than the scars I took on my naming day. This ache swelled my heart and made me want to pull his head down to mine, even with the whole town looking on.
“I haven’t thanked you for stepping forward with me,” I said.
“Don’t thank me for doing what my heart asks, Deuce. I’ll be with you as long as you let me.”
Which seemed like an odd thing for him to say. I’d never once asked him to leave me alone, even when I thought he was crazy. But maybe it had to do with his frequent losses. In his heart, I suspected he thought nothing could last forever, not even us. And that one day, I’d go away like his sire and dam had done—or that he’d be sent from me, for some reason we couldn’t yet fathom. I resolved, then, deep in my soul never to let him go. I’d be the one never to leave him. I’d prove to him that some things could be for always—that we could be.
As we approached the stable, an angry voice bawled out, “Where the devil you been, boy? This crap won’t shovel itself.”
“Devil” and “crap” were foreign terms, but from Fade’s taut, angry expression, they weren’t nice, and he’d heard them before. “On patrol. I’m heading out tomorrow on permanent assignment, so you’ll need to find somebody else to work in my stead.”
“The devil I will,” Jensen said, stepping into view. He was an unprepossessing man, weedy in height and manner. A strong, unfamiliar scent clung to him, sharp and somewhat fermented. “Do I need to take the strap to you again?”
My vision went red at the idea he had been whipping Fade, who had never mentioned a word about it. Didn’t he trust me?
“Elder Bigwater accepted him,” I said quietly. “I don’t figure you have a choice in the matter.”
The liveryman pushed by us with even more foul words—or I guessed they were by Fade’s clenched fist. I put my hand on his. “Get your things, and come with me. You’re not spending another night here.”
Reprieve
When I came through the front door, the Oakses’ house smelled of home. It was funny I should think such a thing, now that I was leaving for the guard outpost we were establishing in the fields, but the scent of fresh baked bread had become ingrained in my head as synonymous with safety and comfort. Momma Oaks came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron. Since I hadn’t asked her if we could have guests—and Fade had all his things in hand—puzzlement flickered on her face.
“What’s this?” she asked, inviting me to clarify.
Since Fade clearly didn’t want to talk about it, I told my side. “He needs to spend the night here. Mr. Jensen threatened to take a strap to him for leaving, and I think it’s not the first time.”