Boots Chapter 15

In the days following the storm, the weather had gone from hot and humid to hot and dry, and though the air was not as unbearably close, the sun remained unbearably bright. As the soggy ground dried up and plants began to mend there was relief; but as the sun continued to bear down new worries emerged. 

Heat sizzled across the earth leaving it hard and dusty, sun showers dried up before the thirsty ground could drink them up. It seemed the recently flooded fields would soon be in danger of drying out. 

At least the river had cleared of salt as the flow returned to its natural direction, giving the village a course of fresh water. And although the water level was surprisingly low after the downpour, it was not dangerously so. Nevertheless, a watering route had been organized to start bringing water to all the fields should it be needed. But with all the repairs needed in the village, and to the mill, and the blight still a problem, the goodwill and cooperation that was fresh and bright following the storm had started to fade in the heat of the unforgiving sun. Jealousy and frustration started to creep through Holding like the blight crept through the fields. 

Tale, Yuggen, and sometimes Albo, all seemed in high demand to sort out problems and find solutions. Balert had even offered to buy fields from some struggling farmers. This was taken badly by many, who felt Balert was trying to take advantage of a difficult time. Boots agreed with them, although he could not readily say so. 

The only change that lightened Boots’ worries was that his mother was steadily recovering. She still stayed in bed most of the day, coughing, and bringing up more darkish phlegm, but not with the violence she had before. From time to time, she would rise from the bed to sit by the banked fire, or drowse in a chair Boots had dragged out the back door so she could look over her garden. Often, the last thing Boots wanted to do when he arrived home was more digging and pruning, but he tended to the back garden to try and keep her from doing it herself. 

Sometimes, she would ask for books and her writing utensils then fall asleep trying to work. “The blight,” she’d say, “I need to help Jayna.” 

Because the blight continued to be a problem in Holding, as constant and overbearing as the heat. The dry, hot weather brought a list of typical ailments for people, animals and crops. These, at least, they knew how to treat and cure. But the blight was its own creature; sneaky and unknown. 

Boots had found blight in both his field and Balert’s. The moment he had discovered the scaly patches sank into his stomach like a heavy stone. A quick look showed him that, almost overnight, a good third of the field had been infected. He had rushed to find Balert, a mix of failure and frustration sloshing in his belly. He found Balert in one of his storage barns and laid out the plant samples he had brought. 

“I don’t understand how it spread so quickly,” he said to Balert. “I check every day; I checked yesterday and there was none. And then today – I came straight here. What if it gets worse by tomorrow?” 

Balert frowned at the afflicted cuttings Boots had brought along. He picked up a leaf to examine it more closely as he spoke. “I’ll admit, I thought for certain your mother and Jayna would have found a cure by now. Or at least a cause that we could control. Where has your mother been, anyway? Did I not ask you to set up a meeting?” the irritation in Balert’s voice was clear. 

“They have both been looking into it,” Boots said, slightly irritated as well. As if Jayna and my mother are not trying to solve this. “My mother is doing all she can right now.” 

Balert made an impatient sound, then put the piece of plant back on the table. “Well, it’s a good thing I set about finding my own solutions, isn’t it? You were right to bring this to me today. From what I understand, the blight can spread quickly – it has devastated entire villages in a matter of days. Tell me, how are the fields that border mine?” 

Boots thought carefully. “Fered’s field is by yours, and he’s seen some too, but dug it out. That was a few days ago. I haven’t heard anything more about it since. I can ask the others.” 

Balert pursed his lips and studied the stems and leaves, the frown still deep in his features as he thought through his instructions.  

“I am going to send Siggu to meet you with the wagon and everything else you will need. I have been gathering methods on my travels and he knows what to do. He is going to teach you, and then you may both be made available to help others as needed. Still under my employ, of course. We will have to renegotiate the terms since sharing the harvest may not be as lucrative as it once was.” 

Boots thought on this a moment, before asking, with surprise, “sorry, you want to employ me to help other farmers clear their field of blight?” 

Balert looked over at Boots with a wan smile. “There are some villages I have seen on my travels that are so badly stricken between the blight and the storm that they do not know how they will survive the winter. Most fields here are going to make it to fall harvest. No one in Holding will go hungry this winter, Boots. Not if it can be helped.” Then he added, as if it were expected, “besides, what good is a poor, blighted town to a merchant?” 

Boots left Balert with a strange shifting feeling inside. Balert, the selfish, pompous, pretentious merchant who belittled everyone and criticized openly. Balert who always seemed he was too good for Holding and wanted to buy fields out from struggling farmers. Balert was going to pay Boots to work other farmer’s fields. Well, Boots thought, Balert was selfish and petty, but that did not mean he was heartless, right? 

This shifting of Balert’s priorities had Boots thinking about the fall of King Harald and the rise of King Frederick. He wondered how the men and women that shaped the kingdom came together and fell apart for their different selfless and selfish aims. With no more to go on than his mother’s stories and his imagination, he pictured it almost as a dance through grand halls; groups of people parading through rooms and corners, sweeping together for whispered conferences or bold proclamations, only to break apart again and join in some new pattern. Ideas and plans strewn across the floor like flowers at a festival, to be picked up by some and discarded by others. It was a colourful, fantastical notion he had – but there was a greyish pall over it all. 

Lurking in the corners, blending with the shadows, was the idea of the wizard. His long fingers snaking through the crowds to hook around some unsuspecting soul. So enwrapped was Boots in his thoughts of those crooked shadows reaching out that he did not hear his name being called, and when a hand fell on his shoulder he spun around with a startled yelp. 

“F-Fauna!”  

“Boots, oh I’m so sorry –” 

“I was just thinking about something –”   

“You didn’t seem to hear when I was calling –” 

“No, I was just heading back to the field –” 

They stammered over each other until they both gave up trying to explain. Fauna smiled prettily; her cheeks faintly blushing. Boots felt a little warmth prickle along his own face as all thoughts of wizards and courts went out of his head. 

“Uh, you look very nice,” he said, not necessarily because he had noticed in any detail, but because she always looked nice to him. And he had not seen her since the evening gathering after the flood. 

“Thank you,” she said, looking pleased as her blush deepened. “And you look well too. I mean, you look very nice, even if you are a little distracted.” 

“Yeah,” Boots said, scratching his head, thinking about the blight even as he tried to process what she meant by going from look well to look very nice. “I was thinking about my fields and what to do. I have to meet up with Siggu.” 

Her brows drew together in a slight frown then rose as she followed what he was saying.  

“Your fields…Oh Boots! Is it the blight? In your fields? Balert’s too?” 

“Oh, um, kind of. Maybe not too much, um…” 

He looked around to see if anyone had noticed, they had not. He steered her by the elbow to walk along beside him so he could speak more quietly. He did not feel it was his place to discuss Balert’s problem – even if it was a problem they shared. 

“Maybe just don’t say anything yet, to anyone. I don’t really know how bad it is yet. Balert has a plan on how to deal with it,” Boots said. 

Her voice was quieter, but her eyebrows were still as raised as ever. Her eyes were so wide, and so close now that she was walking right beside him. 

“Does Balert know how to fix the blight?” she stopped and grabbed his arm. “Have your mother and Jayna found a cure for it?” 

Looking into those big eyes he wanted badly to say yes, or even to say they were working on it. But with her hands clamped around his forearm so tightly he was finding it a little difficult to think of anything to say at all. He even had a crazy thought that he would lean a little closer and plant a kiss on her rosy lips right there in the middle of the street. He had no idea how long they stood like a couple of fools, staring into each other’s eyes with a mix of surprise and anticipation, before Boots became aware of familiar voices behind him. 

“Just wait a moment, Colin.” Tafner was saying with a touch of irritation. 

“It’s been a few moments already, I think the moment has passed.” Colin was saying drily. 

“Just because you’re feeling miserable today it doesn’t mean you have to spread it around,” Tafner replied, her voice coming nearer. “He doesn’t belong to you.”

“Tafner, Colin, it’s fine.” That was Siggu, sounding reasonable.

“He doesn’t belong to you,” Colin mimicked in a high voice, closer than before. Boots felt Fauna loosen her grip on his arm a moment before Colin showed up and draped his arms over both their shoulders.

“Isn’t this cozy!” he proclaimed.

Fauna stiffened and slid her eyes in Colin’s direction with a barely concealed glare. Boots felt the warmth that had pricked along his face bloom into a full flush that was part irritation, part embarrassment. Colin’s grin widened as he pretended not to notice either one of their reactions. 

Siggu bobbed into view. 

“Sorry to interrupt Boots,” Siggu said, with a significant look at Colin, “but we were looking for you.” 

Fauna crossed her arms and stepped away from Colin to stand beside Tafner, who was crossing her own arms in solidarity. Both were glaring openly at Colin, who rolled his eyes at them, his arm still draped around Boots’ shoulders. 

Boots might have glared at Colin too if he wasn’t so happy to see him in a good mood; so instead he shrugged off Colin’s arm and nudged him in the ribs, as if to tell him to behave. Colin shrugged, as a weak apology, and stuck his hands in his pockets grinning at the girls in spite of their glares. 

Boots chose to ignore them all in favour of Siggu, who he needed to see anyway. “Did you talk to your father yet? About the fields?” 

“Yes,” Siggu nodded. “Although that wasn’t why I was looking for you, even if it is now. I’m going down to the river to help out with the mill in two days and wondered if you wanted to come along. I know you’ve been trying to find time to help. Fauna, you’re welcome to join us, Tafner is going to go as well.” 

“I’ve made some rolls,” Tafner said, unenthusiastically indicating a small basket that she had set down. “But they’re not very good.” 

For some reason everyone looked at Siggu, as if waiting for him to defend Tafner’s baking. He just held out his hands as if to say, what did we expect? 

“Did you make the dried berry ones?” Fauna asked her. “You know those are your best.” 

“I thought they would take too long so I went with something quicker.”  

“Oh, not the knotted rolls,” Fauna said. “You always overwork the dough and make them tough. And in this heat, you very well could have made the berry ones, they would have risen quickly.” 

Tafner sheepishly toed at the dirt. Fauna composed herself with a small sigh, she looked from Boots to Siggu. 

“Will you be going, Boots? And what time?” she asked, sweetly. 

Boots looked to Siggu. “When were you thinking?” 

“After lunchtime, closer to dinner. That way people can get their morning work in, and there is always lots of food to be shared for those helping through the evening,” Siggu said. 

Boots took a moment to think. It would depend on how his mother was doing. And if Jayna had any time to spare; he would have to check with her. 

“I would like too, very much,” Boots said. “Only I need to make sure a few things get done first. Can I send word to you tomorrow?” 

“Sure you can,” Siggu said. Then called out in the direction Colin had wandered off in, “maybe Colin will want to join us too.” Colin gave a wave to indicate he had heard and was coming; this was met by sour looks from both girls. 

Fauna then linked her arm through Tafner’s and steered her towards the basket of Tafner’s meagre baked goods. “Grab your rolls and some ingredients and come to my house. We’ll mix the berry biscuits and while they are rising, and we can start a nice bread pudding from those other rolls you made.” 

“You really think they’re that bad?” Tafner asked as she picked up the basket. 

Fauna peeked under the cloth covering the rolls. Her look said it all. 

“Let’s stop at my place first,” Tafner grumbled. She gave an amused Siggu a plaintive look as she was led away. 

“I prefer my dried berries finely diced,” Colin called after them. 

Fauna did not deign to turn around. Tafner made a rude gesture with her hand that surprised a laugh out of all of them. Then Colin made an even ruder gesture back. Boots’ eyebrows shot up and an angry and shocked Tafner was pulled away by Fauna. Siggu was looking sternly in Colin’s direction. 

“What, she isn’t my girl. What do I care if she likes me or not?” Colin asked. 

“She isn’t my –” Siggu started to say, then stopped himself. The tops of his ears were pink, and his mouth tucked down in a frown. “I’m going to get the wagon, meet you at my house,” Siggu said to Boots, then stalked off. 

“Well, that was something,” Boots said, looking over at Colin, who shrugged. 

“You want to come out to the fields with us now?” Boots asked. “See what fighting the blight is all about?” 

“Nah,” Colin said. “I need to help my dad.” 

“Is he spending a lot of time at the mill?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been too. But I’m also trying to keep some things going for him at home.” Colin perched on a wall and fished a roll from somewhere in his shirt. He had a bite and then made a face. 

“Is that one of Tafner’s rolls?” Boots asked, a grin spreading over his face. 

“-s terrible.” Colin said, reaching for Boots’ waterskin to rinse his mouth out. 

Boots laughed. “Serves you right for pinching one.” 

“Guess she got back at me after all,” Colin said. He had another drink and wiped his mouth. Then he pitched the roll neatly into a nearby shrub and hopped off the wall. 

“See you tomorrow, at the mill?” Boots asked, taking back his waterskin. 

“Yeah, see you then,” Colin said, walking away with a wave. 

Boots watched his friend go with a crooked smile and went off to meet Siggu. 

 

Boots made his way over to see Siggu at his house and help load up the wagon. As he went through to the back, where the tools and wagon where, he was reminded of how grand Balert’s house was. 

The property itself was large, boasting two barns for storage in addition to the stables and storage sheds near the house. This was where he kept his most valuable goods, and the large shed attached to the back of the house had a locking mechanism on it.  

The house itself was two stories and had three rooms plus a small mud room on the bottom level and two largish rooms on the top floor. A large, impressive room was at the entrance of the house, bedrooms were on the top and main level, with an extra loft space for even more sleeping area. Although Boots never had to share a bed with his siblings – he had neither bed nor siblings – there were many children in Holding who had grown up envious of the number of rooms and spacious sleeping arrangements. Even though Siggu had his fair share of siblings, they never did seem too crowded. 

The main room took up the entire front half of the house and had a large, folding divider carved with heavy trees and vines for privacy when needed. One of the back rooms was for sleeping and the other was where Balert conducted business and housed his large, solid desk. The desk was very old but distinguished. Boots noted how Balert often ran his hand over it, fondly, and recalled how it had been built by his grandfather when he first moved to Holding – just like the fireplace that still stood at the heart of the house while Balert expanded the building around it. 

The table and furniture in the great, front room were newer – well at least newer to Balert’s house – and although Boots knew nothing about where it was from, or why it was impressive, he well remembered how it had been the talk of Holding the day Balert had proudly driven it through town, carefully piled and tied on to the wagon, the carved surfaces gleaming with polish. He remembered how Colin had pointed out that Balert must have stopped to uncover it on purpose right before entering town because only a fool would travel that great a distance with their precious cargo completely exposed. 

Boots smiled wryly to himself as he shifted some tools to help balance the weight in the cart. Even so many years ago, Colin had always been just that much more perceptive. 

Siggu, who had been inside speaking to his father, came out with a bag looped over one arm and an angry look across his brow. He plunked the bag down in the front of the wagon and then started to look things over, poking and prodding the tools with a little more force than was probably necessary. One of the horses whickered and stamped. 

“Everything all right?” Boots asked. 

“Sure, it’s all fine,” Siggu said, looking up with a stretched smile. “Let’s go.” 

Boots and Siggu stepped up into the seat. Boots eyed the reins as Siggu took hold of them. Balert was very strict about who was allowed to drive the cart, and Boots was not on that list despite having asked many times; but that did not seem to matter to Siggu. Given Siggu’s stiff back and deep frown at the moment, Boots was not going to ask just yet. 

But having seen Boots’ look, Siggu smiled, and this time it was more relaxed. “Once we’re out of the village,” he said. “In the meantime, eat; I grabbed us some food from the house.” 

Boots smiled broadly and helped himself to some food as the cart steered out of the yard. He was surprised to see a smallish, distinct jug sealed with wax in the bag. 

“Is that some of Bessie’s best cider?” He asked, eyebrows raised. It seemed beyond Balert’s generosity and sense to give them a whole jug of something so valued while also paying Boots to work. But maybe working with Siggu afforded some liberties not usually granted. 

Siggu shrugged. “It’s a hot day and I expect we will work harder knowing a reward is on-hand. I have no doubt we’ll deserve it.” 

Once they were beyond the busier areas of the village, Siggu slowed the cart to a stop and handed Boots the reins. Boots shuffled over on the bench and refamiliarized himself with the set-up before clucking the horses to start. There was an uneven lurch, but the horses obeyed, and the wagon swayed along the road. 

 

Tending to the blight was much as Boots had expected. They cut away the blighted crops and bundled them in old blankets to take them away to be burned. It was a slow, careful process because they wanted to avoid dropping any affected cuttings into the soil in case that spread the disease to other places in the field. Then they tended to the soil itself, digging up the roots and removing them before mixing in some concoction of soil brought in from Balert’s travels. Boots asked about the soil mixture as they shoveled it in. 

“It’s from the seaside,” Siggu explained in response to Boots’ question. “The thought is something about the saltiness maybe slowing the spread of the disease. And there are some herbs in here. Not fully vetted by your mother or Jayna, but from sources my father has met on his travels. You know my father,” Siggu said, pausing in his shoveling to wipe his brow, “he does not wait for answers.” 

Boots had a moment of doubt when he heard where the earth was from and tried to work out if it was linked to his mother’s ashlung in any way. But reason told him it was not, otherwise Balert, Siggu or someone else would have developed symptoms by now. At least he thought that would be so. Maybe he would ask Jayna about it. 

The work had started easy enough, and Boots was enjoying having someone to share it with; but it made no difference to the weather, and he was soon as hot and sticky as always. They did Boot’s field first, then Balert’s. Then they moved on to the two nearest fields, one of which belonged to Fered. The way the farmers perked up when they heard why Boots and Siggu were there helped motivate Boots to keep working, but the heat soon sapped that out of him once more. 

Peering over at the sun, he could see that it was mercifully tilting closer to the horizon. He hoped there would be a breeze worth opening his windows to while he slept tonight. If there was an ocean beside him right now, he would plunge into the depths and let the cold tendrils of water scour the sweat and grime from his body. He remembered the salty tang of the water following the storm and thought about the dirt they were shoveling from so far away. 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing it,” Boots said, suddenly. “The ocean, the sea. I bet it’s beautiful.” 

Siggu stopped and stretched his back, then stared off into the distance, thinking. 

“It’s very beautiful. I’ve only seen it a few times, we don’t always make it that far on our travels. Or it’s just a grey glimmer in the distance. But even then, it’s kind of…” Boots watched Siggu, watching the distance, and tried to piece together the ocean from the expression on his friend’s face as he described it. 

“It’s a little like the sky, the way it goes on forever, you want to go to it so badly and just lose yourself in the waves. Except that it’s also terrifying, you realize how vast it is, and how powerfully the waves crash against the shore and what sort of things are hidden in its depths. I think Tafner would really like it…” 

He trailed off and Boots stared into the distance as well. He thought about the pretty shells all the girls had found after the flood, delicate, pale whorls decorating necklaces and offerings. Then he thought about the shark’s sharp teeth, and the raging froth of water crashing down on them. He imagined the fields stretching before him as a rippling, glimmering grey, silvery in comparison to the blackish brown of the river. The ocean seemed so vast that it could be just about anything he imagined it to be. Boots had a long drink from his waterskin and kept working. 

As they worked, they started to attract attention from the surrounding fields, or villagers walking along the path. They were getting on towards being done with the field when a group of other farmers approached. 

Boots smiled and waved. Siggu waved too, but his face in the shade of his hat was less welcoming. Boots looked over at the newcomers. It seemed that the group was led over by Glenni, whose land was on the other side of the path and bordered the river. 

“Don’t say anything.” Siggu murmured to Boots and Fered before stepping forward to greet Glenni. 

“Glenni, how are you?” Siggu said in a loud, cheerful voice. 

“Oh, I’m doing well, considering,” Glenni said, much less cheerful. “Considering how close my farm there is to the river. Given summat of it already got blighted, now flooded on top of everything. I heard tell your dad’s got some special concoction he’s sharing around. I was hoping I could be next in line.” 

And it all came together for Boots. It was all very well to have a special soil mixture and share the soil and the labour. But it was another to have to pick and choose where it went, and who to help. Boots knew there was not enough soil in the wagon to do much more, and he suddenly wondered how much more soil Balert had secured, and who Balert planned to share it with. 

“You know I only go where I’m told,” Siggu said, lifting his hat and wiping his brow. “What have you done for the blight so far? Maybe I can give you some ideas.” 

“I’ve done what everyone else has been doing.” Glenni said, annoyance clear in his voice. “Cutting out the bad, burning it and leaving that part of the field to fallow. It hurts to lose the space, but it’s what has to be done. I’m hoping though, if there’s something more that can be done people would be good enough to share with the whole village and not just their neighbouring fields.” 

There was a murmur of assent from the other farmers that were with Glenni. Boots contrived to be busy while he listened carefully. In tending the fields to either side of Balert’s they were helping the farmers of those fields, but they were also preventing the blight from spreading to Balert’s crops from any neighbouring fields. 

“I don’t rightly know that this will do anything,” Siggu said. “We just got this here soil ourselves and were hoping that it’ll make things better. But it could do nothing at all.” 

“Suppose that could be true. But I don’t rightly believe Balert would make any move that could harm his profits. There’s bound to be a shortage of wheat and grain, probably even drive the price up. It’ll be good for any man who has lots to sell and hard on those who do not – or have so little they must buy from others. Or sell their fields off.” 

Boots grimaced as he started rounding up tools. Glenni was implying a lot by saying that. 

“Now there’s no cause to be bothering Siggu about this,” Fered said, calmly. “I think you know who you need to discuss this with.” 

“Sure, you weren’t this calm the other day when Balert was trying to buy your field out from under you,” Glenni shot back. “And I’m sure you’d feel differently if it was my field getting the special treatment and your field going to ruin by the river.” 

“How about this, Glenni,” Siggu’s irritation sharpening his tone, “I’ll mention to my father that you want to speak with him. And when you have the time you can send word or come on over yourself to discuss this with him. Just like Fered suggested.” 

Glenni looked Siggu up and down, as if contemplating how seriously to take him. To his credit, Siggu stood unflinchingly. Boots was sure, that in Siggu’s position, he would have been stammering out an apology. 

“Maybe I’ll do that. Maybe we all will,” Glenni finally said. And if it sounded somewhat like a threat, he was very careful about his tone. Then he tipped his hat at them all before leaving. 

Siggu watched Glenni walk away for some time before coming back to the field. They finished gathering up the tools, and said an awkward farewell to Fered, who stood in front of them, thinking. 

Finally, Fered said, “he’s been complaining a lot, Glenni has. About everything, to anyone who’ll listen.” 

Siggu cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean? About my father?” 

“No, not just Balert. Although I bet he’ll be the target now,” Fered said. “Glenni’s just unhappy, and scared. Men do and say things they don’t mean when they’re scared.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s what I’m worried about,” Siggu said. “Come on, Boots.” 

Boots and Fered looked at each other with similar expressions of what can you do? and departed with shrugs. Boots climbed into the wagon. 

“You want to drive?” Siggu asked. 

Boots accepted the reigns and Siggu sat hunched over, an arm across his midsection. Then he took a small bottle from the bag that had held their food. Boots recognized the bottle as one of Meranin’s concoctions. Siggu had a swig from it, then grimaced and rubbed his stomach. Boots searched for something to say. 

“I still think it’s nice of your father to bring that soil. And pay me to help spread it,” Boots said, trying to be charitable for his friend’s sake. 

Siggu squinted at the sun and had another drink from the bottle before putting it away. He sat up a little straighter, one arm still across his stomach. 

“Did it occur to you,” Siggu asked, “that my father picked the fields bordering his to be turned over and treated and not the ones bordering yours?” 

“Well, I have now,” Boots said, colouring a little. He was embarrassed that he had not thought of it, but also that Balert had not tried to help him as much as he had helped himself. 

“That’s why I went back in the house before we left,” Siggu said. “That’s why I was so…frustrated before we left. I wanted him to put in enough soil to do the fields to either side of yours as well. I told him – well, never mind what I told him. But in any case, he should have. And I think he will.” Siggu did not sound entirely convinced, though. 

“It would be appreciated if he did,” Boots said, trying to keep the tightness he felt from his voice. Siggu was not deceived. 

“What you mean by that, I think, is: ‘it’s the least your arrogant, selfish, miserly father could do for me after I stood up for his drunken idiot son’ and you would be right.” 

Boots shifted in his seat but did not contradict Siggu. For Boots really did think it was the least Balert could do for him, considering he saved Siggu from having his hand chopped off for making drunken claims. Granted, Boots created the situation through his own folly, but it might have passed them all by if Siggu had never riled up that pompous Lord Narosh. 

Boots reminded himself to relax his grip on the reigns as he urged the horses gently to turn and follow the road where it ran parallel to the river. As the silence stretched between them, he started to worry that Siggu may be on the verge of trying to talk about that fateful day and what had followed. Boots remembered the awkward moment when Siggu had shown up at the cottage after the whole thing and had tried to give Boots money. He did not want a repeat of anything like that, and he certainly did not want to revisit any part of that memory. 

Boots adjusted his hat and wiped sweat off his brow for what seemed the millionth time that day and felt no cooler or more comfortable for it. He did not think he could feel more grimy if he had stripped and rolled naked and sweaty through the dirt. The more he thought about it the more uncomfortable he felt. 

“You think we have time for a quick swim?” Boots asked, seeing the river sparkle invitingly between the trees and recalling his promise to Colin about going back to it. He had not done so yet. “If I leave my clothes on it will count as a bath and laundry all at once. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about that cider.” 

“Yeah, I could do that,” Siggu agreed, a small smile on his face. 

The grasses off the path were still washed flat and cluttered with debris from the flood. Siggu took the reins to guide the horses off the road and Boots hopped out to move anything that might be in the way. Then Boots ranged ahead to the river while Siggu got the jug of cider and looked to the horses. 

As Boots got closer to the water, he thought over his conversation with Colin about the flood and the nikka. His promise to Colin weighed on him, but he dreaded the idea of going back to the river to confront his fear. 

But standing here, in the summer sun, with the birds chirping in the trees and the pleasant babble of the water, the memories lost their sinister edge. 

It was not the same place that Colin had been taken at, it was nowhere near that, but Boots still felt the same surety that Colin had described. He was different, he had new fears and new concerns. Like the land behind him he was marked by what had happened even if it could not be seen as plainly as the marks on his hand. But this place, this river, it was the same as it had always been. It belonged to Holding. It was only Boots who was different. 

He took a few steps closer, his feet sinking into the squishy mud. The fresh, cold, water washed over his toes with a wave of cool relief – and that was all the encouragement he needed to abandon philosophical thoughts and plunge forward with great strides. He ducked under the water and shook his head, raking his fingers through his sweat-matted hair, and came up to see Siggu splash in bearing the uncorked jug and not a stitch of clothing. 

They floated along to find a large rock to serve as a table for their jug and floated back and forth sharing the drink. The cider was so warm from being in the wagon that it was as though it had been heated by a fire. But the crispness of the flavour – like a bite of fall apple – was refreshing all the same. It rinsed the dusty taste of earth from Boots’ mouth and the coating of thirst from his tongue. With the sun dipping below the tops of the trees to throw shade across the river, Boots felt blessed relief from the endless sweat and sun. 

In his blissful reprieve from work and heat, Boots’ thoughts had moved beyond lords, and punishments and blighted fields; but Siggu’s must have still been circling those same ideas. 

“Do you ever think about it?” Siggu asked. “About when Burig comes to ask us for whatever it is we owe him? When he comes to collect on our, our punishment I guess is what it is.” 

Boots and Siggu leaned their arms on the rock with the jug on it, their legs floating out behind them. Boots had taken his shirt off and was rinsing it haphazardly in the current. The copper salmon token was cool against his chest. He pushed his dripping hair back from his eyes and pondered his answer. 

“Sometimes. But not that much, not really.” 

Siggu looked at him, confused and a bit skeptical. 

“Really? I think about it all the time,” Siggu said. “I wonder what it will be. And when I’m not wondering about it my dad is. He sort of seems to be trying to plan it out. Like, he is always trying to figure out where I might be going and if he might be able to make use of it.” 

A slow smile of disbelief spread on Boots’ face. “What, like for his business?” 

“Yeah, for his business.” 

Boots raised his eyebrows; but maybe that was not so surprising. Balert was ever a businessman, looking for the best angle. He probably had his speeches all lined up, about how he would tell people that his son was chosen by Burig himself. 

“Maybe that’s part of the difference,” Boots said. “My mother has no interest in Burig’s plans and designs. Will probably try to change his mind when it comes to it, too.” 

“That she would,” Siggu agreed. He had a drink, then passed the jug to Boots. 

“She doesn’t seem to like him very much. She likes even less the idea of me leaving,” Boots said, accepting the jug and having another sip.  

The water washing around the jug had finally cooled the remnants of the cider and he savoured it even more before he swallowed. He told Siggu as much and offered him the rest. Siggu waved for him to finish it, rubbing his stomach again. Boots shrugged and savoured the dregs. He suspected that Siggu had taken the cider in retribution for Balert not giving them more soil, and the drink was all the sweeter for it. 

“Well how do you feel about maybe leaving?” Siggu asked. “I can’t imagine what use we would be here in the village, but wouldn’t someone have mentioned it if we were supposed to go away?” 

Boots made a sour face, he could not help it, it was his reaction to Siggu voicing the exact thoughts he was always trying to avoid, leaving Holding. Something about that felt especially uneasy to him. It had taken on some of the direness of his mother’s foretelling about archery and was tangled up with the idea that he had set himself on a new path, one that may be fraught with consequences. Sometimes, the edges of his mind whispered that the shark, the flood, the nikka were all because of that path. Found you, boy. Boots repressed a shudder before he answered. 

“I don’t know. I…I guess it could be an adventure. It could be. But I would also worry. If it was for too long, what would happen to the fields? They’re all I have. And my mom would be all alone in that cottage. Think about the winter. What if something happened?” he shook his head and said with a crooked smile, “it seems I spend more time thinking and worrying about what would happen here in Holding while I was gone than about where I might go when I leave.” 

Siggu was nodding in understanding. “I can see why you would. But you know there would be help. I know Tale – or even my father – could help find someone to take the fields for you, just while you’re gone. Fered would do it, his sons might be old enough to help. And Colin will still be here, in Holding. I mean, if we even leave for that long, if we even leave at all, maybe we can work off our debt right here. But if we did go, you know there are people to help you. And everyone would help take care of Meranin too, Boots. So, you shouldn’t worry about that.” 

Boots thought about what Siggu had said. He had no doubt that the people in Holding would gladly pitch in to make sure Meranin was well. Even if she was not close with many people, she was someone they needed, someone they relied on, someone who had helped and taken care of them all at some point or another. Looking at how things currently stood, Boots knew the real difficulty was in Meranin letting them take care of her. 

“Thanks, Sig. It kind of helps to hear that.” 

Siggu shrugged. “I’d be worried about the same things if I were you.” 

“Do you…” Boots thought about what he was going to say without being too obvious. “Do you worry about leaving anyone here. Like your family or, you know, anyone else?” 

Siggu wasn’t fooled. “You mean Tafner. Yeah, I’d miss her,” he said in a way that made Boots feel he should not ask any more questions. 

They lounged in the water a little longer, but as the shadows started to blend together, they knew it was time to turn towards home. Taking the jug, they made their way back to where they had jumped in. 

Ever fastidious, Siggu had a change of clothes in the wagon and had brought them along to the shore. He mopped water off himself with his dirty clothes before getting freshly dressed. Boots got out and stripped off his shirt, wringing the water out and putting it back on before doing the same with his trousers. As he did so he noticed some fish in the calm shallows nearby.  

“Those fish, they keep doing that,” he said to Siggu. “Almost like they’re swimming in a perfect circle.” 

Siggu glanced over without much interest. Boots went over for a closer look and saw that the fish were, indeed, swimming in a ring. Something white gleamed at him from the mud in the centre of the circle. He waded back in, and the fish wove excitedly between his ankles before scattering away when he reached his hand into the water. He pulled the white object out of the mud. 

It was a large shell, spiralled around to a delicate point like some sort of fantastical horn and shimmering with a pearly finish. It was almost the length of his hand. 

Siggu finally came over to look. “That’s a nice one. My dad would probably buy it off you if you asked.”

Boots dipped it back in and swished it around to rinse out some sand. 

“Maybe,” Boots said, stepping back onto the grass and turning it over in his hands. A bit more water and sand trickled out. 

The bottoms of his pants had gotten wet again, but he didn’t bother to wring them out a second time. He didn’t mind his clothes being damp it would keep him cool a little longer while they dried on his back. He nestled the shell in his hat and tucked it into his pack. Maybe Balert would pay him for it, but he was quickly deciding he wanted to keep it. Something to remind him that the water brought good things, too. 

“I still stink,” he said, getting into the wagon next to Siggu. 

“Me too,” Siggu said. 

And they headed home. 

 

The next morning, Boots pried his eyes open and ordered himself out of his hammock as soon as he was awake. He had passed another restless night; being wakened once by his mother’s coughing and twice by his own strange, restless dreams. That voice, the feel of it, lingered each time he awoke. Found you, boy.

Siggu had given him the remainder of food from yesterday and Boots ate that for breakfast. Somehow, he had managed to avoid preparing much food during his mother’s sickness and he counted himself lucky for it. He barely seemed to have enough time and energy to eat the food other people gave him, no less prepare his own. 

Packing up for his next day of work, he found the shell scrunched into his hat. He brushed some sand off of it and placed it on the shelf. 

“What’s that? It looks pretty,” his mother said in a croaking voice, watching him from her bed. 

“You’re awake! How do you feel? Are you hungry?” Boots asked. 

“I would not mind if you heated me some of that soup Jayna brought over before you go – no finish your breakfast first,” she said to him as he immediately moved to towards the soup. 

“I’ll just move the pot,” he said. 

He placed the pot of soup closer to the fire to heat, gulped some more of his breakfast down, and picked up the shell, holding it out for her to see. 

“I found this on the riverbank yesterday. I didn’t take anything from the river after the flood. So, I was happy to find it. A souvenir.” 

His mother looked it over as Boots brought it closer. 

“Ah, Rannu’s needle,” she said, naming the deity of the ocean. “It is said she uses these shells to knit large nets, woven of strands of seaweed that stretch from the depths of the ocean floor to the tips of the waves. Her large nets catch sea beasts and unlucky ships that venture too far out to sea without making the proper offerings.” 

Her voice faded to a whisper and she sipped some water. Boots turned the shell over in his hands as she spoke, observing how the long spiral came to a point. 

“Because of the shape, I guess,” he said, turning it over in his hands. 

“Mmmhmm,” his mother said, laying back and closing her eyes. A smile ghosted across her lips. “It has another name inspired by its shape too, so-called after Rannu’s husband and one of his…appendages.” 

Boots looked at the shell and an embarrassed laugh escaped him. Meranin’s smile broadened in turn, then faded as she seemed to drift back towards sleep. Having a sudden, worried notion, Boots crept forward and waited to see the rise and fall of her chest before he felt comfortable setting about to leave. Remembering the soup, he scooped out a bowl and set it on the little table beside her bed with a spoon, a piece of bread and a cloth draped over everything. In the heat, it would stay fairly warm for a bit. Before he left, he helped the fire die down and moved the soup just a little further from the heat.

While Boots worked, he was conscious of being a little lonely after having Siggu’s companionship yesterday. But at Balert’s field, Fered was out working, and they shared their mealtime together. They talked about the blight, what Boots might do at the mill tomorrow and Fered’s five children. 

Boots remembered Fered’s wedding, the man had seemed so young, handsome and smooth-faced. And now, he was still handsome, but in a fatherly way, creased and rugged instead of fresh and smooth. Boots could picture himself and Fauna being like Fered and his wife. Living a quiet life, growing slowly older together, and raising children in Holding. He hoped he would see Fauna tomorrow. He did not think he had imagined that moment between them yesterday as they gazed into each other’s eyes. He tried to ignore those whispers of foreboding that had started yesterday, about fate, about his future, about a changed path he could not escape. 

Boots came home to find Luthi was at the cottage, and once more, he did not notice the man right away. Boots was putting salve on his hand and arm when Meranin opened her eyes and said, as though just realizing it, “oh, Luthi’s out in the garden.” 

Boot went out back to see that Luthi was, indeed, in the garden. His soft cap was just visible on the other side of a trellis of climbing plants. He was sitting on a low stool picking away, a half-full basket beside him. Once again, Boots had no idea how long the man had been sitting there for and wondered that his mother had not told him about the visitor sooner. Luthi stood up.

“Boots, I have something for you,” he said, walking over with his hand outstretched. 

Boots reached out his left hand and Luthi placed two smoothly carved objects in it. One was a sort of long oval, carved of a hard, dense wood and polished to a perfect finish. There was a groove the length of it, and a notch that seemed ready to cut the top off, but it only went halfway through. The other was like a teardrop, with a hole hollowed out of the round part of the tear drop and a few sawtooth notches leading around the curve to the point. 

“What is it?” Boots asked, although he had an inkling.

“It’s to help you draw your bow.” Luthi took them back and showed Boots how each worked. The oval one was for re-building finger strength. “The bow string goes in this long groove, here, so you can pull back. The knock goes through this notch here, at the top, so it can meet the string. You won’t win any speed competitions using this, but I think it will help you draw. It should keep you from straining your hand, and maybe help retrain the muscles.” The teardrop one was for when his fingers were feeling stronger. “This little notch helps you have a quicker release, the arrow goes like so. But I had to guess on the size.” 

The teardrop one was already an awkward fit for Boots, although he could see how it would eventually work. The oval one, though, nestled perfectly into the curve of his fingers. Boots did not know what to say, mostly because of the lump in his throat.

“Let me know how it works, and if it needs reshaping. Or I can always make you a new one,” Luthi said. 

“Thank you,” Boots finally managed, “thank you so much.”

Luthi nodded. He called a farewell to Meranin through the window and left while Boots studied his gifts. Boots realized he should have offered Luthi some of the food he had picked in the garden, or to share their dinner, but the man was already long gone. Boots got out his bow and tried out his new tools. As expected, the teardrop was too difficult for him to use, and it flipped out of his grip causing him to almost lose it in the grass. But the oval shaped one worked incredibly well, taking the strain off his fingers so that he could un-hunch his shoulder and settle it more comfortably. He went in for dinner practically bouncing with happiness and ate quickly so he could shoot a little more before the light left. Before bed he placed the gifts on the mantle beside the carved horse and the spiral shell. All thoughts of leaving Holding and fulfilling debts were chased from his head. He went to sleep with a smile on his face.