“Rachel?” he said, coming to his feet.
“Keep. Your. Voice. Down,” she said tightly.
“I…” He pulled the cloak off his back and handed it to her. “You need this far more than I do,” he said. “And, yes, we need to get out of here.”
“We’ll talk about this,” Daneh said, taking the cloak at arm’s length. “You can walk in front of me.”
“In front…”
“Right now, I don’t like any males near me,” she said with a venomous tone. “So it’s nothing personal.”
“All right,” Herzer replied, edging past her.
“And Herzer.”
“Yes?”
“When we get to Rachel, we’re just going to not mention that you were with the group that did this, understand?”
“I… okay. But, no, I don’t understand.”
“I put a lot of effort into saving your life,” she said bitterly. “I don’t want Edmund killing you. Or Rachel.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rachel had not been happy.
“I’m going to kill them!” she snarled.
“If you tried, you’d end up just like me,” Daneh said, shivering. Herzer’s cloak was a better fit for her than for the boy, but it was still a poor substitute for her rain gear. And she knew she was still shocky from the trauma of the rape. “I didn’t lie through my teeth just so that you could get raped too. Leave it.”
Azure, already wet and annoyed, wandered around her sniffing and yowling. He sniffed at Herzer as well, and seemed ready to bite, but finally he left off and wandered into the woods, sniffing at the ground.
“There’s nothing you can do, Rachel,” Herzer said tonelessly.
“You can just butt out Herzer Herrick,” Rachel snapped. “Where in the hell were you? Huh?”
“Too late to do anything,” Daneh said. “Leave off, Rachel. We need to get on our way.”
“What about the snares?” she said. “We can’t keep moving without food. Azure needs to eat at the very least.”
“He won’t start getting sick for another day or two,” Daneh said tiredly. “If we move fast we can make it to the Via in a day at most. There are towns up there; we’ll find something to eat.”
“How far up the road did you go?” Herzer asked.
“Only a ki or so,” Rachel said. “The trail is knee deep in mud up the way. Mom, I don’t know if you can make it.”
“I’ll make it,” Daneh said, standing up. “I’ll make it all the way. But I’m not going to wait here for McCanoc and his band of merry men to find me again. Let’s go.”
“God, I hope Dad is still in Raven’s Mill,” Rachel said, gathering up their few belongings.
“He will be,” Daneh replied. “I just hope that he’s willing to overlook the last few years.”
“Home is where when you have to go there, they have to take you in,” Herzer said, quietly. He automatically took the front position, picking up Daneh’s pack and slinging it on his back. “He’ll be there. And he’ll be waiting for you.”
“He’d better be,” Daneh said, bitterly.
“Naye, naye, you have to heat it more or you’ll be hammering all day to no effect,” Edmund growled, picking up the piece of metal with tongs and setting it back in the charcoal fire.
“I’m sorry, sir, I thought…” The apprentice stepped back and looked around at the group gathered in the forge. A few weeks before, all he’d had to worry about was what to wear to the next party. Now he was trapped in this cluttered workshop, learning a trade so ancient that until the previous week he had never heard of it. And doing badly at it. It didn’t seem fair.
“It takes years to learn the blacksmith trade,” the smith replied, more softly, noting the glance. He jerked a chin at the bellows and waited as the apprentice pumped the fire hot. “Watch the color of the metal and the colors of the fire around it. When it gets white hot, pull it out and then strike. You don’t have much time, that’s why they say you have to ‘strike while the iron is hot.’ ” He leant emphasis to the words, pulling the piece out and hammering it flat, then turning it to shape. “Just a hoe but hoes are what will feed us all soon enough. Hoes and plows and parts for wagons will be your mainstay once you learn.” He thrust the half-formed metal back into the fire and jerked his chin at one of the other hovering apprentices. “Now, you tend the fire while he tries again.”
He stepped back and wiped at his face as the fledgling smith tried to get the recalcitrant metal to do his will, trying not to shake his head. With the scraps and bars that Angus had brought in, they had enough material for the beginnings of a community, but they’d soon need more. He had sent a wagon load of mixed foodstuffs up the road to Angus but the distance was far enough that the oxen would eat a good bit of the load on the way. And it would be three or four weeks before any response could come.
“What about weapons?” the apprentice asked, finally getting the hoe to form. He had got the rhythm of the hammer, and sparks struck a brilliant white in the dim forge.
“You’re a long way from making a weapon, son, other than a spear blade, which is naught more than a hoe shaped a bit differently. But swords and such, or armor, they take a tad more work. Once we have the wire puller going in the water forge we’ll get some of you to work on mail. But for the time being it’s more important to learn how to make farming utensils.” He looked out the door of the shed again, then peered more carefully.
“You all start working on hoes from this stock, I’ll be back in a bit.”
Stepping out of the heat of the forge he shielded his eyes against the sun. As if in expiation for the unending rains the skies had cleared and turned bright for the last few days as the sodden ground steamed. The temperature hadn’t gone up much but the humidity was still high, giving the area a damp chill that sapped energy and made everyone hungry for fats and carbohydrates that were in short supply. But the bright sun and haze made seeing anything at a distance difficult, which was why Edmund had to look long and hard to be sure of what he saw. Then he let out a whoop and headed down to town.
“Class dismissed for the next hour or so,” he called over his shoulder. “Try not to burn down the forge while I’m gone!”
He thought about grabbing a horse but decided that it would take more time and trouble than just walking down the hill.
As he entered the town of Raven’s Mill, which was growing in all four directions, he could see a large crowd gathered around the three wagons that had come from the east, and he pushed his way through to the center without thought until he approached the first wagon, which had stalled for lack of room to move.
“Suwisa, you’re a sight for God-damned sore eyes!” he shouted, clambering up the side of the wagon and enfolding the muscular driver in his arms.
“Why Edmund,” the woman laughed, giving him a hug in return. “I didn’t know you cared!”
“I’ve been trying to run this madhouse and simultaneously teach newbies who are as hardheaded as the metal they can’t shape,” he laughed. “So I’ll admit it’s a purely selfish reaction.”
“I should have guessed,” she replied with a grin.
“Hola Phil,” he called to the man driving the second wagon. “Still selling the condemned mead?”
“Aye, enough to drown you in if you don’t quit manhandling my wife!” the man called back.