He could tell by her stillness that this was a completely new thought to her.
“And if he has any questions, he can bring them to me or Arkady. I meant it when I said I’ve helped a passel of youngsters learn to manage their groundsense. And trust me, some of them were even more thorny than you. You may not need Moss River-in fact, it seems Moss River was exactly what you didn’t need-but you need someone to show you how to go on.”
She’d moved close enough for him to see her; her hands clutched her hair. “But I don’t want this. These powers.”
“Then you can choose not to use them. But that’s not a choice you can make before you’ve learned to command them. Until then, you’ll just be blundering around in the dark bumping into things and hurting yourself-and maybe others-through ignorance.”
For the first time, her silence grew considering, and not just frightened.
“I can… choose not to be…? ”
“If you learn enough. And what I can’t teach, Arkady surely can. Chance has given you a prize, this journey. Absent gods, girl, seize it. I mean to.”
Calla made a faint, confused noise, and Dag explained, “Arkady’s my teacher.”
“You have a teacher? At your age? ”
Dag chose to ignore the second part of that. “Yes. And Fawn teaches me, too. She’s taught me more this past year than I imagined possible. The whole world teaches me new things every day, now that she’s made me alive to it again. You teach me.”
“What do I teach you?” Calla stared in bewilderment.
“What half bloods need, to start with. I expect there will be more surprises, as we go along.” He rose from his rock, gave her his softest salute. “I can hardly wait. Good night, Missus Smith.”
“Uh… good night, Mister Bluefield…”
He tracked her trudge back toward her wagon and her waiting husband.
He was reminded that he had a bedroll warmed by a waiting wife, but detoured through the nearby trees. A long, pale shadow detached itself from a pecan bole as he neared.
“Do you think she has the makings of a maker? ” said Dag to Arkady.
“In some small, useful ways, undoubtedly.”
“I hope you don’t mind me volunteering you, sir.”
“No…” A shrewd pause. “All in all, that was well done.”
From Arkady, who was quite capable of prefacing his milder critiques with You gormless, ham-handed half-wit! this was true praise.
“I hope so, sir,” said Dag. “I surely do.”
14
Over the next few days Fawn was heartened to see Arkady chatting often with Calla, riding beside the wagon or even sitting on the box. Barr helped Indigo with the animals. With each of the half bloods tucked under a suitable Lakewalker wing, Dag rode alone during Fawn’s fatigue naps. She watched him curiously over the tailboard, turning that walnut in his hand and brooding over it. He’s working up to something.
Swampy Alligator Hat lay over a hundred miles behind them when they first hit rain, and even then they only had to pull the wagon out of mire once and warp it across swollen fords with ropes twice. Coming into the last stretch of farmland south of the Barrens, Ash Tanner led them aside some miles for a planned rest at his uncle’s farm, where they were made welcome despite the surprise additions to the party. The animals were set to graze for a day, and the people turned to topping up their supplies for the pull ahead.
That afternoon, Dag and Fawn retreated to their bedroll, which they’d laid in the most private corner of the Tanner barn loft-although, Fawn suspected, not for the reason their comrades thought.
They were left strictly alone anyway, which likely suited Dag’s purposes just as well.
Climbing down afterward, Dag led her off to seek out Barr and Arkady. A roof on posts along one side of the barn sheltered a work area free of the misting rain. Barr had their saddles and bridles up on sawhorses, giving them a cleaning. If Arkady was doing anything besides keeping him company, it wasn’t apparent to Fawn, but they did break off some chat as she and Dag came around the corner.
Dag set her in front of him, hand on her right shoulder, wooden wrist cuff resting on her left. “I need you two a moment,” he said to the Lakewalkers.
Barr set down his brush and rag; Arkady, leaning against a post with his arms crossed, lifted his eyebrows.
“What in the world did you do to Fawn’s ground? ” asked Barr. “It’s all… shiny.” He closed his eyes to-Fawn supposed see better didn’t quite make sense, and she surely couldn’t feel it, but a vague discomfort filled her to be the focus of his uncanny attention. As for Arkady, she didn’t even attempt to read the intent stillness of his face.
“Well,” said Dag, “that’s what I need you to help me test. Barr, try to plant a persuasion in Fawn’s ground.”
“Er… what kind? ”
“Whatever you’re best at. It doesn’t have to be well shaped.”
“That’s fortunate,” murmured Arkady.
Dag shot him a quelling look. “I’ll lift it right out again if you succeed. Just anything.”
Hesitantly, Barr approached and started to lay his hand on her breast, glanced at Dag, and prudently moved it up to her collarbone. He frowned at the walnut that lay there, held by a cord plaited of her hair.
The walnut was not pierced, but trapped in a woven net that continued unbroken into the braid circling her neck. “Huh!” he said after a moment.
“I can sense her ground-she’s not really veiled-but the work slides off. Like rain on a window.”
“Good.” Dag turned her; obediently, she shuffled around. He dropped his hand away and said, “Now, Arkady. Try to ground-rip her. The way I did you at the camp gate my first day.”
Arkady cocked his head and made a short gesture. Nothing happened.
He blinked, came closer, and lifted her hand in his. His other finger traced a line across the back. Fawn felt a twinge like winter sparks in a wool blanket. “Interesting,” he said, in a neutral tone. “Her ground seems to dimple away as I try to grip it.”
“Dag, have we really done it? ” Fawn said breathlessly. “Made a ground shield for farmers? ”
He sighed uncertainly. “Maybe. Enough to protect you from ordinary persuasion or beguilement, and the sort of ground-ripping I-a person can do. But a malice is much more powerful, and I don’t know how to test for that. It’s not like I’m going to set you out as bait.”
“Maybe someone”-she glanced at Barr-“could get a patrol to take a volunteer farmer out somewhere to try it. Up north, maybe, where the malices are thicker. Or at least, try it on their youngsters.”
Dag shook his head. “I’m still not sure this shield would work on Lakewalker grounds. They’re too active.”
“So, try one on Barr and find out.”
Barr gulped. “Er… all right. Makes sense.”
Fawn said, “It’s too bad we don’t have a Lakewalker child to try it on. Maybe later.”
Brightening, Dag told Arkady, “At least I’ve half solved the problem of how to turn it off. All Fawn has to do is remove the necklace, and the link to her ground will break. Thing is, she’d need me to do all that groundwork over again to link it back to her. In the ideal design, the farmer would be able to take it on and off at will. Leastways I’ve proved the principle of the thing.”
Arkady gave him a thoughtful nod. “I didn’t think you’d get this far.”
Brows tightening, he took up Fawn’s hand and stroked it with his finger again; she shivered at the prickle. “Now I hesitate to guess how far you can take this.”
Dag watched her hand intently. “That contraction seems to be a natural response, of a sort. After I was near ground-ripped by the Raintree malice, Mari said my ground was so tight nobody could get in to help me. Had to take her word for it-I was out cold. She said she’d never seen anyone look more like a corpse and still breathe.”
“Even if it doesn’t protect farmers from malices, it seems it protects them from Lakewalkers,” Fawn said. “Like Barr’s cook-pot helmets for real. It changes things. Um…” She glanced up at Barr and Arkady.