The boy nodded at Bast as he came to the top of the hill, then he looked down. “You hurt your hand,” he said.
Bast looked down at his hand and was surprised to see a few dark streaks of blood dripping down the side of it. He brought out his handkerchief and daubed at it.
“What happened?” little Pem asked him.
“I was attacked by a bear,” he lied nonchalantly.
The boy nodded, giving no indication of whether or not he believed it was true. “I need a riddle that will stump Tessa,” the boy said. “A good one.”
“You smell like Granda,” Pem chirruped as she came up to stand beside her brother.
Wilk ignored her. Bast did the same.
“Okay,” said Bast. “I need a favor, I’ll trade you. A favor for a riddle.”
“You smell like Granda when he’s been at his medicine,” Pem clarified.
“It has to be a good one, though,” Wilk stressed. “A stumper.”
“Show me something that’s never been seen before and will never be seen again,” Bast said.
“Hmmm …” Wilk said, looking thoughtful.
“Granda says he feels loads better with his medicine,” Pem said, louder, plainly irritated at being ignored. “But Mum says it’s not medicine. She says he’s on the bottle. And Granda says he feels loads better, so it’s medicine by dammit.” She looked back and forth between Bast and Wilk, as if daring them to scold her.
Neither of them did. She looked a little crestfallen.
“That is a good one,” Wilk admitted at last. “What’s the answer?”
Bast gave a slow grin. “What will you trade me for it?”
Wilk cocked his head on one side. “I already said. A favor.”
“I traded you the riddle for a favor,” Bast said easily. “But now you’re asking for the answer …”
Wilk looked confused for half a moment, then his face went red and angry. He drew a deep breath as if he were going to shout. Then seemed to think better of it and stormed down the hill, stomping his feet.
His sister watched him go, then turned back to Bast. “Your shirt is ripped,” she said disapprovingly. “And you’ve got grass stains on your pants. Your mam is going to give you a hiding.”
“No, she won’t,” Bast said smugly. “Because I’m all grown, and I can do whatever I want with my pants. I could light them on fire and I wouldn’t get in any trouble at all.”
The little girl stared at him with smoldering envy.
Wilk stomped back up the hill. “Fine,” he said sullenly.
“My favor first,” Bast said. He handed the boy a small bottle with a cork in the top. “I need you to fill this up with water that’s been caught midair.”
“What?” Wilk said.
“Naturally falling water,” Bast said. “You can’t dip it out of a barrel or a stream. You have to catch it while it’s still in the air.”
“Water falls out of a pump when you pump it …” Wilk said without any real hope in his voice.
“Naturally falling water,” Bast said again, stressing the first word. “It’s no good if someone just stands on a chair and pours it out of a bucket.”
“What do you need it for?” Pem asked in her little piping voice.
“What will you trade me for the answer to that question?” Bast said.
The little girl went pale and slapped one hand across her mouth.
“It might not rain for days,” Wilk said.
Pem gave a gusty sigh. “It doesn’t have to be rain,” his sister said, her voice dripping with condescension. “You could just go to the waterfall by Littlecliff and fill the bottle there.”
Wilk blinked.
Bast grinned at her. “You’re a clever girl.”
She rolled her eyes. “Everybody says that …”
Bast brought out something from his pocket and held it. It was a green cornhusk wrapped around a daub of sticky honeycomb. The little girl’s eyes lit up when she saw it.
“I also need twenty-one perfect acorns,” he said. “No holes, with all their little hats intact. If you gather them for me over by the waterfall, I’ll give you this.”
She nodded eagerly. Then both she and her brother hurried down the hill.
Bast went back down to the pool by the spreading willow and took another bath. It wasn’t his usual bathing time, so there were no birds waiting, and as a result the bath was much more matter-of-fact than before.
He quickly rinsed himself clean of sweat and honey and he daubed a bit at his clothes too, scrubbing to get rid of the grass stains and the smell of whiskey. The cold water stung the cuts on his knuckles a bit, but they were nothing serious and would mend well enough on their own.
Naked and dripping, he pulled himself from the pool and found a dark rock, hot from the long day of sun. He draped his clothes over it and let them bake dry while he shook his hair dry and stripped the water from his arms and chest with his hands.
Then he made his way back to the lightning tree, picked a long piece of grass to chew on, and almost immediately fell asleep in the golden afternoon sunlight.
Evening: Lessons
Hours later, the evening shadows stretched to cover Bast, and he shivered himself awake.
He sat up, rubbing his face and looking around blearily. The sun was just beginning to brush the tops of the western trees. Wilk and Pem hadn’t returned, but that was hardly a surprise. He ate the piece of honeycomb he’d promised Pem, licking his fingers slowly. Then he chewed the wax idly and watched a pair of hawks turn lazy circles in the sky.
Eventually he heard a whistle from the trees. He got to his feet and stretched, his body bending like a bow. Then he sprinted down the hill … except, in the fading light it didn’t quite look like a sprint.
If he were a boy of ten, it would have looked like skipping. But he was no boy. If he were a goat, it would have looked like he were prancing. But he was no goat. A man headed down the hill that quickly, it would have looked like he were running.
But there was something odd about Bast’s motion in the fading light. Something hard to describe. He almost looked like he were … what? Frolicking? Dancing?
Small matter. Suffice to say that he quickly made his way to the edge of the clearing where Rike stood in the growing dark beneath the trees.
“I’ve got it,” the boy said triumphantly. He held up his hand, but the needle was invisible in the dark.
“You borrowed it?” Bast asked. “Not traded or bargained for it?”
Rike nodded.
“Okay,” Bast said. “Follow me.”
The two of them walked over to the greystone, Rike following wordlessly when Bast climbed up one side of the half-fallen stone. The sunlight was still strong there, and both of them had plenty of space to stand on the broad back of the tilted greystone. Rike looked around anxiously, as if worried someone might see him.
“Let’s see the stone,” Bast said.
Rike dug into his pocket and held it out to Bast.
Bast pulled his hand back suddenly, as if the boy had tried to hand him a glowing coal. “Don’t be stupid,” he snapped. “It’s not for me. The charm is only going to work for one person. Do you want that to be me?”
The boy brought his hand back and eyed the stone. “What do you mean, one person?”
“It’s the way of charms,” Bast said. “They only work for one person at a time.” Seeing the boy’s confusion written plainly on his face, Bast sighed. “You know how some girls make come-hither charms, hoping to catch a boy’s eye?”
Rike nodded, blushing a little.
“This is the opposite,” Bast said. “It’s a go-thither charm. You’re going to prick your finger, get a drop of your blood on it, and that will seal it. It will make things go away.”
Rike looked down at the stone. “What sort of things?” he said.
“Anything that wants to hurt you,” Bast said easily. “You can just keep it in your pocket, or you can get a piece of cord—”
“It will make my da leave?” Rike interrupted.