“That is not how you handle a dog,” said Alfric. “How did you—how did he know what you were saying?”
“They’re very intelligent creatures,” Isra replied. “More than birds or cats.”
“Yes, but,” Alfric said, “you can’t just get a dog to stop by telling him to stop.”
“You can,” said Isra, feeling confused. “I did. If you haven’t been around dogs before—you just tell them and they listen. Say it like a command.” She started walking again. Seeing the dog had made her feel good, though she’d have been happier if she’d been able to return him to his owner. They were new, strange people walking by his pasture, he hadn’t meant anything by coming at them. Alfric’s questions, and further, his insistence that she’d done something wrong, rankled. People talked to dogs, she knew they did, it was something she’d seen a dozen times before. There was nothing that should have been confusing or strange about it. She found herself walking a little bit faster than strictly necessary, and the way that Alfric lengthened his stride to catch up made her feel even worse, like he was chasing her.
“Sorry,” he said, once they were walking side by side, still at an unsustainably fast pace.
Isra slowed. “It’s how you deal with dogs,” she said.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll have to trust you on that. I had a dog growing up, but I guess he was a bit special.”
There was more of the slightly uncomfortable silence between them, but it gave Isra a chance to think. She had grown up in the woods with her father and never spent very much time with other children. She had always felt that her father had taught her well, but when it came to other people, she was on uneven ground. Her father had friends, especially later in her life, but they were perhaps not the best to learn social matters from. It had never been clear to Isra just what her father had done back east, but clearly he’d been educated, and he’d raised her to know much about the world. And still, she felt like there were simple things she knew nothing about. Over the past year, she had discovered the Pucklechurch library, where books could be borrowed freely, and she’d been making full use of them, enjoying the strange people and their strange customs. It gave her some insight into the people of Pucklechurch, she thought.
She had also learned, through experience, which things were safe to talk about and which needed to be avoided. Animals were a sticking point, and the merchants were stingy, always ready to argue about whether her meat was good or what kind of furs she had, even when it was perfectly obvious. There was an herbalist that sold various tinctures and dried roots, and Isra steered clear of her after they’d had a rather heated altercation. The tinctures and roots did next to nothing, and Isra couldn’t understand why people were convinced by words when their own senses should have told them otherwise. She had learned that people had their rituals and their mysterious ways, and you weren’t supposed to question them. She hadn’t figured out why the herbalist sold these things, or why everyone seemed to accept it, but she’d come to accept it as one of those subjects that would make things awkward if it was brought up, even in the most gentle of ways.
“Are all animals like that?” asked Alfric.
“Like what?” asked Isra.
“You said that dogs were smart,” he said. “But do they all… listen to you?”
Isra thought about that. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said. She didn’t know what he meant, but it was also a safe answer, one that wouldn’t invite ridicule.
“If you,” began Alfric, hesitating. “If you told the birds to get off your roof, would they listen to you?”
“Why would I ask them to do that?” asked Isra.
“I don’t know,” said Alfric. “It was just an example.”
“Part of the reason I get along with the birds is that I don’t tell them what to do,” said Isra.
Alfric fell silent again, and Isra wondered whether it was him that wasn’t making sense or her. He came from some enormous city to the north, and from what she knew of enormous cities, they had far less in the way of both plants and animals. Tame plants and tame animals. As of the day before, the largest city that Isra had been to was Tarchwood, which was nearly ten times the size of Pucklechurch but still a small place in comparison with Dondrian. Isra’s father had come from a city to the east but hadn’t spoken of it all that much, especially not as Isra got older. She got the sense it was a place that he wanted to forget, even as he still celebrated some elements of its culture. Few birds in the city though, few animals. She wondered how they got along.
“When a woman goes off into the wilderness and has a child alone,” said Alfric. He was speaking slowly and deliberately. “If the child is then kept from other people for several years, it gains a connection to nature.”
“My mother didn’t have a child alone,” said Isra.
“Well, yes,” said Alfric. “I was listening when you said that yesterday. But… do you think that you might be a druid?”
“No,” said Isra. She paused, wondering whether the question would get her one of those pitying or befuddled looks that people occasionally gave her. “What’s a druid?”
“I’m not sure I should say anything, because I would probably just embarrass myself,” said Alfric. “But from what I know, they have command of plants and animals, along with some sense of the natural landscape.”
Isra frowned. That didn’t sound like her. “And you think I’m one of those because of the dog?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” said Alfric. “But if you are a druid, or you have that power, then… well, that would be surprising, but also important.”
“Would it?” asked Isra. “Why?” So far, Alfric had not laughed at her for her ignorance or strangeness. He hadn’t scoffed or narrowed his eyes in frustration. That was a strong point in his favor.
“You would be able to use it,” said Alfric. “Some of the things in the dungeons, surely they count as plants or animals, don’t they? If it’s a skill you have, it’s a fairly rare one. You could meet other druids, learn from them—”
“And if I like my life as it is?” asked Isra.
Alfric faltered. “And… do you?”
“I do,” replied Isra, with more conviction than she felt. There were rather a lot of rings stored away that formed the basis of an unexamined plan. She hadn’t quite decided what the plan was, only that it needed money. East, to Tarbin, where her family presumably was, or perhaps somewhere else, where she could start fresh. A place where she wouldn’t feel compelled to hide from people who came near her house.
“Then I don’t want to dissuade you. But why are you going into the dungeons with us?” asked Alfric.
Isra hesitated. “It’s good pay for not much work,” she said. “Like you said.”
The entire year following her father’s death had been a blur. She wasn’t entirely sure how, at thirteen, she had survived it. Her father had friends, and they checked on her from time to time, but none of them had tried to take her in, and she hadn’t made the request. Instead, she hunted as she’d been taught to, foraged the verdant forests, and narrowly made it through the winter with the foodstuffs she had put up with her father. Her father had died in late summer, before they could harvest the autumnal bounty, but the work they’d done in spring and summer had been with the anticipation of feeding two mouths rather than one. It had been enough. That had been the time of the horrendous theft, but the thief had left the food, at least, alone.