Bogger, one of the greybeards from Town Square, turned and glared angrily at them. ‘We disgust you so much, mudskin, why don’t you go back to the desert?’
Relan grimaced, shoulders bunching. He claimed to have been no great warrior in Krasia, but in Bogton he was feared by all, and known to beat men for using that word. No one had dared insult his heritage since Masen Bales and his three brothers had called him a desert rat on Winter Solstice. Relan wasn’t even breathing hard by the time all men were on the ground, moaning in submission.
But they were in the Holy House, and the man was an elder. Honour dictated that Relan show Aric deference and respect.
Relan closed his eyes, embracing his anger. His shoulders relaxed. He gave a shallow bow. ‘You do not disgust me, Aric Bogger. You are humble before Everam. I see you here honouring Him every dawn.’
The words were meant to calm the situation, but they seemed to have the opposite effect as Aric thrust his cane down with a thump, surging to his feet.
‘I am humble before the Creator, Relan Damaj.’ Aric shifted his grip on his cane, raising it between them. ‘I spit on your Everam.’
He hawked his throat, and Relan had enough. He closed the distance between them in an instant, his left hand effortlessly twisting the cane from Aric’s grasp as his right darted in like a hummingbird to flick across the greybeard’s throat.
Aric coughed as the phlegm caught in his throat, stumbling back a step before he caught himself on the pews. He didn’t seem hurt, but his face went all red as he hacked and wheezed.
‘I wish no quarrel with you, Aric son of Aric of the Bogger clan of Bogton,’ Relan said, ‘but I will not stand by and let you spit on the floor of the Creator’s house.’
Aric looked as if he might lunge at him, but Relan pointed the cane, checking the move.
‘What’s going on here?!’ Briar turned to see Tender Heath gripping the front of his brown robes as he strode to the scene. Heath was not a threatening man, round-faced and round-bellied. He brewed the town ale, and was more apt to laugh than to scold, tending bar as much as he tended his flock.
But they saw Holy Men differently in Krasia. Relan stiffened, then dipped into a low bow. He gave a hiss, and his family joined him in bowing to the Tender. So much as a wilful eye would get them the strap and worse.
Relan twirled the cane, offering it handle-first for Aric to snatch. The old man looked as if he might strike Relan on his exposed neck, but a stern glance from the Tender checked him.
‘A misunderstanding only, Tender,’ Relan said. ‘I was explaining to the son of Aric that we pray to the same Creator, whether He is called Everam or not.’
Heath crossed his meaty arms. ‘That may be, but the Holy House is a place of peace and succour, Relan. We do not explain things at the end of a cane.’
Relan dropped smoothly to his knees, putting his hands and forehead on the floor in supplication. ‘Of course the Tender is correct. I apologize and will accept penance.’
‘Ay, give it to him, Tender,’ Aric said, as the others in the room watched the scene. ‘Stinking mudskin hit me.’
Heath looked at him. ‘Don’t think I don’t know it was your fool mouth that started it, Aric Bogger. I catch you using the M word or try to spit in the Holy House again, you and yours are going to have empty cups at the next Solstice festival.’
Aric paled. The only thing Boggers loved more than the Creator was Heath’s ale.
Tender Heath gave a sweep of his arm. ‘Now into the pews, the lot of you. Time we started services, and I’m feeling quite a sermon coming.’
‘Mistress Dawn!’ a call came, breaking the silence as they filed from the Holy House. Briar looked up to see Tami Bales running up the road. Tami was only a year older than Briar, but the Damaj children weren’t allowed to play with the Baleses since Tami’s father, Masen, called Relan a desert rat at the Solstice festival. Relan would have broken his arm if the other men hadn’t pulled them apart.
Tami’s dress was splattered with mud and red with blood. Briar knew bloodstains when he saw them. Any Animal Gatherer’s child did. Dawn ran out to meet the girl, and Tami collapsed in her arms, panting for breath. ‘Mistress … y-you have to save …’
‘Who?’ Dawn demanded. ‘Who’s been hurt? Corespawn it, girl, what’s happened?’
‘Corelings,’ Tami gasped.
‘Creator.’ Dawn drew a ward in the air. ‘Whose blood is this?’ She pulled at the still-damp fabric of the girl’s dress.
‘Maybell,’ Tami said.
Dawn’s nose wrinkled. ‘The cow?’
Tami nodded. ‘Stuck her head over the pen, blocking one of the wardposts. Field demon clawed her neck. Pa says she’s gonna get demon fever and went for his axe. Please, you need to come or he’ll put her down.’
Dawn blew out a breath, shaking her head and chuckling. Tami looked ready to cry.
‘I’m sorry, girl,’ Dawn said. ‘Don’t mean to belittle. I know stock feels like part of the family sometimes. You just had me thinking it was one of your brothers or sisters got cored. I’ll do what I can. Run and tell your pa to hold his stroke.’
She looked to Relan and the others. ‘Girls, get home and finish the washing. Boys, help your father haul the collection cart. Briar, I’ll need to brew a sleep draught …’
‘Skyflower and tampweed,’ Briar nodded.
‘Cut generously,’ Dawn said. ‘Takes a lot more to put down a cow than a person. We’ll need hogroot poultices as well.’
Briar nodded. ‘I know what to get.’
‘Meet me in Masen Bales’ yard,’ Dawn said. ‘Quick as you can.’
Briar ran off home, darting through the herb garden like a jackrabbit, then blowing through the kitchen like a breeze, snatching Dawn’s mortar and pestle. He was on his way down the road before his siblings even got home.
He caught up with Dawn just as she was getting to the Bales farm with Tami. Already, he could hear Maybell’s bleats of pain.
Masen Bales came out to meet them. He was carrying an axe. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Briar, and he spat some of the tobacco he was chewing. ‘Thanks for coming, Gatherer. Think you’re wasting a trip, though. Animal ent gonna make it.’
He led the way to the barn. The heifer was lying on the straw floor of her pen, neck wrapped in heavy cloth soaked through with blood. Masen Bales ran his thumb along the edge of his axe. Tami and her siblings crowded around the cow protectively, though none were large enough to stop their father if he decided it was Maybell’s time.
Dawn lifted the cloth to look at the animal’s wounds – three deep grooves in Maybell’s thick neck.
Masen
