Two Guides, No Destination

The next several days went by in a blur. Even when there was no place to travel to, the elves found things that needed to be done. I had received a promotion I hadn’t known I earned and got to carry things as elves pointed to the delivery location. Ceara's scouts continued finding Imperial patrols farther south, forcing Aponi to stop arguing it was safe to return. The northern families agreed to let the southerners remain at least until winter. Both tribes liked to pretend they would stay separate.

The children had less interest in pretending. By the third day they were crossing the river freely enough that adults from both tribes had started scolding the same groups from opposite banks.

Ceara returned on the fourth day with Tovan, two riders and a cart loaded with sacks of grain, seed, iron tools and enough other supplies to make the southern tribe reconsider several centuries of avoiding human trade.

Keme went straight for the tools. He lifted a hoe, turned it over in both hands and checked the balance. His thumb ran along the edge before he said something to Nimiwa. She listened carefully. “Ke asks why this is not sharp.”

“It’s not supposed to be sharp,” Ceara said.

Keme frowned. “He says dull weapon is bad weapon.”

“It isn't a weapon.” That required translation more than once. He looked at the hoe again and his expression suggested that it could most certainly be used for violence.

“You put it in the ground,” Ceara explained, demonstrating the motion with both hands.

Keme planted his feet. “Not like—” Ceara started. Dirt erupted from the ground as the hoe struck the earth hard enough to bury its entire metal head. Keme’s grin was unbearable.

Ceara stared at the hole and placed one hand against her side. “Fine. That's one way.”

Nimiwa was already writing something down. I leaned over her shoulder. “Please don't record that as accepted agricultural practice.”

“She say worked.” She wrote another line.

Ceara explained that the people who actually knew how to use the tools would remain in Harrowford. Nobody there had any intention of marching into an elven settlement to demonstrate farming, and none of the elves seemed eager to receive them. Instead, anyone interested could travel to the fields outside Harrowford, work beside the farmers during the day and return before dark. Resistance patrols would keep the roads clear.

Aponi immediately wanted to know how many people could go. Waki wanted to know whether grain grown on Harrowford land belonged to Harrowford. Keme wanted to know which gardening tools made the best weapons.

Ceara eventually escaped the chaos by finding me. “I heard something interesting.”

“That is rarely how a pleasant conversation starts.”

“Apparently there is gold near Harrowford. Two traders arrived yesterday asking whether the resistance had secured mining rights.”

My mouth dropped open. Ceara continued. “One offered to split whatever he found. I told him anyone traveling north with mining equipment would be treated as someone scouting our roads for the Imperial Order.”

“You can never trust a prospector,” I said as I rubbed the back of my neck.

“So. How did a rumor about gold near Harrowford spread?”

“Not gold,” I said. “Yellow dirt. I said there was yellow dirt.”

She glanced back toward her riders. “Whatever the reason, the rumor exists. I can't make people forget it. I can make traveling through Harrowford with mining equipment unpleasant. Eventually they'll get bored when nobody returns carrying gold.”

“I’ll try not to replace it with another one.”

Ceara muttered something that I chose not to hear and a moment later, produced a folded piece of thick paper sealed in dark red wax. “The general knows about you and your gods.” Ceara held the letter toward me. “Show that at Dozorhold when you're ready.”

I turned it over. My name was written across the front. “And if I'm never ready?”

“Give it to the elves. The seal gets whoever carries it through our posts.” Ceara glanced toward Keme, who was still examining the hoe like someone had handed him a poorly designed weapon. “I'll send word before the next group comes to Harrowford.”

She left before sunset with six elves following the cart toward Harrowford. Keme was one of them, determined to learn the true power of the hoe. I suspected the farmers would regret everything.

Waki's punishment began two days later. There had been discussion about stripping her of her position, but the problem was larger than Waki. The northern elders had known what she planned and allowed it. She had simply been the one willing to carry it through. Removing her now would not undo that decision, and the north relied on her too heavily to pretend she was easily replaced. So they decided her punishment involved the stump beside the river. Waki stood in front of it while both tribes gathered nearby.

Nimiwa stood next to me. “What did they decide?”

“One lash per person Waki give humans.”

I looked at the several hundred southern elves. “That will kill her.”

Nimiwa shook her head. “Not same day. Punishment continues.”

Waki removed the upper part of her clothing and placed both hands against the stump. The first lash struck. I had been standing against that same wood not long ago, biting down on leather while everyone decided five lashes were enough to teach me not to accidentally undermine centuries of warnings about humans. I originally thought it might be satisfying to watch. By the third, I averted my eyes. When the day's session ended, the gathering dispersed back into the daily tasks of living.

Later on that evening, the two oracles approached me by the river. There was an awkward silence that lasted longer than I liked. “What?” I asked.

Nimiwa frowned. “I not say anything.”

“I can see it on your face.” She touched her cheek as though checking. “Not literally.”

“I want ask proper. I guide Uri.”

“We settled that.”

“Not only me. Waki too.”

That caught me by surprise. I stared at Waki. “This your idea?”

“No. Pray to your gods for both of us,” Waki responded.

“Human gods would probably kill all of us.”

“Then do it quickly.”

“On mountain, Waki say Uri is good Redborn. Worth keeping,” Nimiwa said. “Waki say if I no want fall behind, then—”

Waki clapped a hand over her mouth. “Enough.”

“I knew there was more to that conversation.”

“You know enough,” Waki said. Nimiwa made an offended sound into her palm until Waki finally released her.

“South stays here. Maybe long time. Waki did wrong. Still can learn from her.”

“And you want her to teach you?”

Nimiwa shook her head. “Guide us.”

Waki removed the pipe from her mouth and shook her head.

“Nimi learns north. Waki learns south. We guide Uri together.”

I wasn’t sure if this was also part of Waki’s punishment but the arrangement became irritating almost immediately. Nimiwa asked Waki questions about everything. Waki answered until she became annoyed, which happened faster every time.

A few evenings later, I found Nimiwa sitting beside the river with another book open across her knees. Hanwi stood beside her, reading over the page upside down. “What are you studying now?”

Nimiwa looked up. “Human family.”

Hanwi tapped one claw against the page. “This book defines family primarily through blood relation. That is incomplete. Mortals also maintain bonds through repeated voluntary association.”

I picked Hanwi up and settled her onto my lap. “You could have said families are people who keep choosing to stay near each other.”

Hanwi looked up at me. “It is hard to be precise and explain this topic.”

Waki approached from behind and rested one hand on my shoulder. “Have my two new students learned anything useful?”

“Yes.” I reached over and took Nimiwa's hand. “I think this is where I want to be.” Nimiwa's fingers closed around mine. Waki's hand remained on my shoulder. Hanwi settled more comfortably against my chest. I looked across the river at two tribes still arguing over where one settlement ended and the other began. “For once,” I said, “I'd like to try enjoying my life before I decide what comes next.”

Apparently I had two guides and no destination.

That more than suited me.