“Blight,” said Antan slowly. “And here I thought you were just dangerous because you were a softhearted fool. You’re a real renegade, aren’t you? Ten times more than that poor bandit fellow you knifed up on the Grace.”
“Well, sir.” And what kind of an answer was that? Not a denial.
“Gods, you make me dizzy. I sit here listening to you any longer, I’m like to fall off my blighted horse. Listen, northerner. We didn’t have a problem till you walked in. No question that the fastest way to rid ourselves of it is for you to walk out again. I don’t have time for this.”
Fawn looked off into the air, but her voice grew distinctly edged.
“My mama used to say to me, What, you don’t have time to do it right, but you do have time to do it over? ”
Antan broke from her cool stare and returned to scowling at Dag.
“You’re not my patroller, Dag Bluefield. Absent gods, you’re not even anyone’s tent-kin here. If you’re so set on dealing with farmers, you can take it up anywhere you like-except within the bounds of my camp.
And whatever mess you’ve started here can chase after you, and not end up at our gates.”
“My training-” Dag began.
“You should have thought of that earlier.”
“I did.”
“Then you made your choice. So there’s no blighted point in me sitting here arguing with you, is there? Just don’t come back to New Moon. We won’t let you in again.”
He wheeled his horse away. Then his eye fell on Barr and Remo, sitting stricken on their mounts. “Ah.” He reined in. “You two. Are you coming with me, or staying with him? ”
Remo’s lips parted in surprise; he looked at Neeta and back to Antan. “Could we stay at New Moon, sir? ”
“You can apply. Your patrol leader told me that you were exceptionally disciplined patrollers.”
“Oh, not me, sir!” Barr said, in a sweetly cheery tone. “I’ve been hanging around with renegades way too long. My ground is totally corrupted, y’see. You wouldn’t want me in your patrols. Something untidy might rub off on them. Wits, maybe.”
Antan’s teeth clenched in something not much like a smile. “Right. Then you can bring Dag back his horses and gear.” His gaze swung to Remo, scythe-like. “And you? ”
Remo looked in anguish at Barr, Neeta, Dag. “I-can I have a little time to think about it, sir? ”
“You can have till your partner leaves.” Antan’s arm veered to Neeta. “You, go get your horse and catch up.” He jerked his chin at Tapp.
“Enough of this fool’s errand. Back to camp.”
As the patrollers turned away, Barr edged his horse up to the porch.
“I guess I’ll be back tomorrow with Copperhead and all. Any messages?”
“Tell Arkady…” No. Dag could hardly tell Arkady he was sorry for going out, because he still wasn’t. Only for not coming back. “Tell Arkady I’m sorry for how things worked out. But will you keep arguing for me back there as long as you can? Because Antan Bullrush isn’t the only authority at New Moon. And your mouth has nothing more to lose you at this point.”
Barr grinned like a possum and reined after the others.
12
After following Dag upstairs to watch him treat Sparrow, Fawn returned with him to the Bridger kitchen to find a family conference in progress that reminded her of table talk at home in West Blue. They all had plenty of rude things to say about Captain Bullrush, anyhow.
“Well, yes, but I have a deal of sympathy for Antan,” said Dag, as Cherry Bridger pushed tea mugs in front of them both.
“But he as much as tossed you out on your ear!” said Cherry. Finch hunched his shoulders and looked guilty.
“The man was trying to protect his camp.” Dag repeated Arkady’s story of the tragedy at Hatchet Slough, not quite in Arkady’s words.
“But that was a long time ago,” said Finch. “Before I was born!”
“It’s present memory to folks like Captain Bullrush and Arkady, though.” Dag swallowed tea, shook his head. “I think Antan senses his ways are starting to be outworn, but he’s got nothing to put in their place, so his only answer is to hold harder. There’s a lot of folks like him.”
“But Dag’s trying to change all that,” Fawn put in proudly.
“Don’t load my boat too heavy, Spark. One man can’t change all the world any more than he can change which way the wind blows. The most he can do is learn to read that wind and sail it. I figure a fellow can get quite a cargo safe from shore to shore, if he can do that.”
He scrubbed his face. “Gods, listen to me. All wind and water and nonsense. No wonder it all slips through my hand. I need some good farmer dirt to ground me, Spark. It’s all about time, see. I deeply do not understand time, and groundsense is no help; it’s stuck in time like everything else.” He glanced up at a ring of blank faces, and ducked his head. “Sorry. Too many winter nights out on patrol with nothing to look at but stars. It’s like to make a man strange.”
Fawn thought she could nearly hear the Bridgers thinking, stranger, but no one said it aloud. “So, what do we do now, Dag? ”
Papa Bridger put in, with heavy emphasis, “You two would be welcome to stay here. For as long as you’ve a mind.” Lark nodded shortly, and Cherry and Mama Bridger murmured something bolstering.
Fawn tried to picture it. Could they make a life as permanent guests in that upstairs room? Doing what? Well, she knew farm chores; she could pull her weight. But she suspected there might be objections to Dag taking up medicine making for farmers this close to New Moon.
And… with a baby? In some other woman’s house? Though Cherry Bridger made a tempting substitute kinswoman. They’d be safe for a time, at least…
Finch leaned forward, elbows on the table, face serious. “Fawn, do you remember those friends I told you about, who were talking about moving north? ”
“Yes? ”
“I passed on what you told me about your country, and it tipped the balance. We decided someday should be this spring. We thought we’d all go together, because the Trace is no place for loners. We’ve been getting our supplies in order-Sage asked his sweetheart to marry him and come along-we were all to start this past week, but then Sparrow got sick, and I was all distracted. I was to take the brown mare and two pack mules for my due-share, and my supplies and tools.”
Papa Bridger and Lark nodded.
“Sage has a wagon, so they’ll be going slower than a pack train. I figured to catch up when… well, I figured to leave one way or another.”
If Sparrow had died, Finch had meant to flee the farm in shame, he meant. Fawn nodded understanding. Mama Bridger sighed.
“I’m glad”-Finch glanced at Dag, took a deep breath-“that it’s not going to be like that. But I still want to catch up with Sage and the boys. What I wondered was-have you ever been on the Trace, sir? ”
Dag’s brows flicked up. “I’ve never walked it end to end all at one time. I’ve ridden or walked most sections.”
“I’ve never been north of Alligator Hat,” Finch said.
The nearest village-some fifteen miles up the Trace, Fawn had learned, charmed by the name. She’d wondered if they in fact sold alligator hats there.
“But you, sir,” Finch went on, “if you were meaning to go home after all-if you threw in with us now-you might be a sort of guide. Mightn’t you? ” He looked anxiously at Fawn.
“Of a sort,” said Dag. He, too, looked at Fawn, question in his eyes.
“I’m not the medicine maker I meant to be, yet.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Before, you’d half a mind to jump into this with no training but patrol medicine.”
“Before, I was a blighted fool. A menace.”
“A mighty lucky menace, if so. And it’s not like you grew more ignorant, for our two months with Arkady.”
“It sure feels like it. Arkady opened my eyes to a whole new realm. It’s been right humbling. Maker Vayve, too-I thought I knew all about knife making from watching Dar, but Vayve’s style was quite a bit different. Between ’em, I feel like someone took my skull and shook it like a bottle of cider, and the cork’s about to pop out.”