"Fief matters?" Leesil asked. "What exactly does he do?"
Bieja smiled. "We're more fortunate than most clanships.
Cadell handles the accounting himself and checks to see how the villages in each zupanesta in the fief are faring. There are five villages alone for our clan's zupanesta. If disaster strikes any village, and they cannot pay all their taxes, he faces the collectors of the Antes house himself."
Leesil's fondness for Aunt Bieja grew steadily, although she could be a little daunting at times. Strong and sensible, she was knowledgeable in spite of a lifetime of superstitions. After the previous night's misunderstanding, it was plain that lightning tempers coupled with protective natures ran in this family's women.
"Well, if we can't visit the keep until later," he said, "what can we do around here? By necessity, I've gotten handy at mending roofs and old furniture."
"I understood some of that," Wynn said, clearing bowls from the table. "If we have the morning free, I would like to wash out some clothes. Magiere?"
Magiere nodded as she shook out her black hair and began to braid it. "We'll tend to our own needs while we can. There's no telling when we'll have another chance."
"Here, let me braid that for you," Bieja said, stepping around behind her niece.
Magiere stiffened, but Bieja smoothed wayward wisps of hair back from her face. Magiere relaxed as her aunt's nimble fingers weaved and plaited.
Leesil tried not to stare but kept glancing over again and again. Bieja took her time, perhaps making up for the years she'd been unable to care for her niece. With an ache in his chest, he got up to step outside.
The rest of the morning was spent washing and repacking. Leesil split firewood for Aunt Bieja and stacked it beside the hut. They avoided the other villagers as much as possible, and no one stopped to visit. The day would have been peaceful if not for Chap's fretting and scratching at the door. But whenever Leesil let him out, he'd look around the village and whine pitifully.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked Wynn.
Wynn tried speaking to the dog with the talking hide, but shook her head. "He keeps saying horses and journey. He wants to leave."
Leesil patted the dog's head. "Hopefully tomorrow."
This only made Chap more irritable. He growled low under his breath as he slunk back to the hut's far corner and lay with head on paws, watching all of them. Leesil didn't know what to do for him.
At midafternoon, Magiere looked out the front window and heaved a sigh. Her jaw tensed as she turned to Leesil. "It's time."
He nodded and looked at his punching blades lying upon their bundled belongings in the corner. Their forward ends were shaped like flattened steel spades with elongated tips and sharpened edges all around. At their bases were crosswise oval openings, allowing the blades to be gripped by their backsides for punching. A gradual "wing" curved back from the outside edge of each blade head and ran the full length of his forearm, ending where his elbow would be. He'd had special sheaths designed so he could strap them to his hips.
"Blades… or just stilettos?" he asked.
Magiere hesitated before answering. "I'd rather not look ready for a fight, but I don't care to be unarmed either. Can you cover the blades with your cloak?"
She'd already donned her own cloak and pulled it around to hide her falchion, though the sheath's tip peeked out from behind.
"Fair enough," he replied, and followed her example as he shifted into Belaskian for Wynn. "Try to get Chap to stop whining. He's making my head ache."
Wynn was dressed in her breeches and a red shirt borrowed from Leesil, as her white one was still drying. The shirt was much too big, but she'd managed to tuck it in. She pulled on her hooded short robe, but before she answered, Chap lunged for the open doorway.
The dog spun around to stand in the way, blocking it. Whining shifted to growling. The daylight spilling through doorway cast his silver-gray fur in a gossamer blue glow. His crystalline eyes filled with desperation as he bared his teeth and looked to Magiere.
"Stop that!" Leesil ordered. "What's wrong with you?"
He reached out to grab the dog by the scruff, and Chap turned on him, snarling.
"He does not want us to go," Wynn said. "Each time we mention the keep, he gets more upset."
"I don't want to go either, but we must," Magiere said in a sad voice, and she stepped closer to the dog. "There is no other choice if we want answers."
Chap barked twice, his arranged reply for no, and growled louder.
"Wynn, can't you talk some?" Leesil started, but a small realization occurred to him. He shifted back to Droevinkan as he spoke to the dog. "All right. You win. We'll pack up the horses and leave."
Chap's attitude didn't change, as if he hadn't understood a word said. Leesil turned his back to the dog, facing Aunt Bieja behind the table. She looked quite put out by the dog's outburst.
In all their years together, Leesil had spoken almost nothing but Belaskian around Chap. It was the most common language spoken in the coastal lands, even in the backwoods of Stravina. Elvish was the only other language that he knew Chap understood. It seemed even a Fay in a dog's body had to actually learn languages like anyone else.
Chap didn't understand Droevinkan any better than Wynn. Perhaps less.
Leesil smiled, which made Aunt Bieja frown in puzzlement.
"Do you have someplace we can lock him up?" Leesil asked quietly.
"There's a shed out back," Bieja offered. "The door could be barred, but how will you get him there?"
Chap remained on guard, and Leesil gave Magiere a knowing look before he turned to Wynn, shifting languages yet again.
"Let's not leave our gear in the way. We'll take it out back to the shed. " He hefted his pack, while Wynn and Magiere followed suit, and turned back to Chap. "Get your mangy backside out of my way. You've been a pain in my head all morning, and I've had enough."
He shoved Chap with a swing of his leg, hoping he didn't get nipped. Chap shuffled aside with a rumble, and Leesil pushed Magiere out the door ahead of himself.
"Quickly," he whispered to her.
Magiere gave him a perplexed look but took off at a jog around the side of the hut. Chap lunged forward, but Leesil blocked the dog as he ushered Wynn out. He didn't want to anger Chap further, but he needed to throw the dog off balance.
"Valhachkasej'a!" Leesil snapped, using one of the few Elvish phrases he knew. "You deceitful mutt."
And he slipped out the door. There was only a moment's silence before he heard an indignant snarl from Chap.
Leesil sped around the hut to find Magiere and Wynn standing beside the open shed door. He pulled up short to flatten himself against the hut's rear wall. When Chap skidded around the comer, he saw only Magiere and Wynn at first. The dog lunged forward, spotting Leesil too late. Leesil stepped in behind Chap, grabbed the dog by the haunches in midlunge, and shoved. In a clatter of wood scraps, hoes, and racks, Chap crashed into the shed's enclosure.
Magiere swung the door shut, and Leesil threw his back against it, digging his heels into the ground. The snarling and battering from inside began immediately.
"Could you, um… find something to brace this shut, please?" he asked Magiere.