Page 9 (1/2)
Morning: The Narrow Road
Bast almost made it out the back door of
the Waystone Inn
He actually had made it outside, both
feet were over the threshold and the door
was almost entirely eased shut behind
him before he heard his master’s voice
Bast paused, hand on the latch He
frowned at the door, hardly a handspan
fro closed He hadn’t made any
noise He knew it He was familiar with
all the silent pieces of the inn, which
floorboards sighed beneath a foot, which
s stuck …
The back door’s hinges creaked
so on their mood, but
that was easy to work around Bast
shifted his grip on the latch, lifted up so
that the door’s weight didn’t hang so
heavy, then eased it slowly closed No
creak The swinging door was softer than
a sigh
Bast stood upright and grinned His
face eet and sly and wild He
looked like a naughty child who had
ed to steal the moon and eat it His
smile was like the last sliver of
re moon, sharp and white and
dangerous
“Bast!” The call caain, louder
this ti so crass as a shout, his
But when he wanted to be heard, his
baritone would not be stopped by
anything so insubstantial as an oaken
door His voice carried like a horn, and
Bast felt his na at him like a hand
around his heart
Bast sighed, then opened the door
lightly and strode back inside He was
dark, and tall, and lovely When he
walked he looked like he was dancing
“Yes, Reshi?” he called
After a moment the innkeeper stepped
into the kitchen; he wore a clean white
apron and his hair was red Other than
that, he was painfully unremarkable His
face held the doughy placidness of bored
innkeepers everywhere Despite the early
hour, he looked tired
He handed Bast a leather book “You
alot this,” he said without a hint
of sarcasm
Bast took the book and made a show of
looking surprised “Oh! Thank you,
Reshi!”
The innkeeper shrugged and his mouth
made the shape of a smile “No bother,
Bast While you’re out on your errands,
would you s?”
Bast nodded, tucking the book under his
ar else?” he asked dutifully
“Maybe so
we’ll do stew tonight It’s Felling, so
we’ll need to be ready for a crowd” His
htly at one corner as
he said this
The innkeeper started to turn away, then
stopped “Oh The Williams boy stopped
by last night, looking for you Didn’t
leave any sort of e” He raised an
eyebrow at Bast The look said more
than it said
“I haven’t the slightest idea what he
wants,” Bast said
The innkeeper made a noncommittal
noise and turned back toward the
common room
Before he’d taken three steps Bast was
already out the door and running through
the early-ht
By the time Bast arrived, there were
already two children waiting They
played on the huge greystone that lay
half-fallen at the bottom of the hill,
cli side of it, then
jurass
Knowing they atching, Bast took
his ti the tiny hill At the top
stood what the children called the
lightning tree, though these days it was
little more than a branchless trunk barely
taller than a
since fallen away, and the sun had
bleached the wood as white as bone All
except the very top, where even after all
these years the as charred a
jagged black
Bast touched the trunk with his
fingertips and made a slow circuit of the
tree He went deasil, the same direction
as the turning sun The proper way for
Then he turned and switched
hands,three slow circles
widdershins That turning was against the
world It was the way of breaking Back
and forth he went, as if the tree were a
bobbin and he inding and
unwinding
Finally he sat with his back against the
tree and set the book on a nearby stone
The sun shone on the gold gilt letters,
Celum Tinture Then he amused himself
by tossing stones into the nearby stream
that cut into the low slope of the hill
opposite the greystone
After a minute, a round little blond boy
trudged up the hill He was the baker’s
youngest son, Brann He smelled of
sweat and fresh bread and … so
else So out of place
The boy’s slow approach had an air of
ritual about it He crested the small hill
and stood there for a moment quietly, the
only noise co from the other two
children playing below
Finally Bast turned to look the boy
over He was no ht or nine,
well dressed, and plumper than most of
the other town’s children He carried a
wad of white cloth in his hand
The boy sed nervously “I need
a lie”
Bast nodded “What sort of lie?”
The boy gingerly opened his hand,
revealing the wad of cloth to be a
ht
red It stuck to his hand slightly Bast
nodded; that hat he’d smelled
before
“I was playing with my mum’s knives,”
Brann said
Bast examined the cut It ran shallow
along the
serious “Hurt much?”
“Nothing like the birching I’ll get if she
finds out I waswith her knives”
Bast nodded sympathetically “You
clean the knife and put it back?”
Brann nodded
Bast tapped his lips thoughtfully “You
thought you saw a big black rat It scared
you You threw a knife at it and cut
yourself Yesterday one of the other
children told you a story about rats
chewing off soldier’s ears and toes while
they slept It gave you nightmares”
Brann gave a shudder “Who told me
the story?”
Bast shrugged “Pick someone you
don’t like”
The boy grinned viciously
Bast began to tick off things on his
fingers “Get some blood on the knife
before you throw it” He pointed at the
cloth the boy had wrapped his hand in
“Get rid of that, too The blood is dry,
obviously old Can you work up a good
cry?”
The boy shook his head, see a little
embarrassed by the fact
“Put some salt in your eyes Get all
snotty and teary before you run to them
Howl and blubber Then when they’re
asking you about your hand, tell your
mum you’re sorry if you broke her knife”
Brann listened, nodding slowly at first,
then faster He sood” He
looked around nervously “What do I
owe you?”
“Any secrets?” Bast asked
The baker’s boy thought for a minute
“Old Lant’s tupping the Widow Creel
…” he said hopefully
Bast waved his hand “For years
Everyone knows” Bast rubbed his nose,
then said, “Can you bring me teet
buns later today?”
Brann nodded
“That’s a good start,” Bast said “What
have you got in your pockets?”
The boy dug around and held up both
his hands He had two iron shims, a flat
greenish stone, a bird skull, a tangle of
string, and a bit of chalk