“Four Ravians were taken,” Gunner added. “They’d be easy enough to spot in their stables.”
Titus shook his head. “No, they would have sold them off by now. I can check with the Previzi when we get back. See if they had any questionable trades.”
“Half their trades are questionable,” I reminded him. The Previzi unloaded merchandise that was better left untraced—like the Candoran ambassador’s side deals. Like the Valsprey that had come into our hands. We took advantage of what they offered just like everyone else. Some goods need to be bought and sold discreetly, my father had explained when I was twelve and questioned why we used them. And some questions are better left unasked, he added.
“What about the dozen short horns?” Gunner asked. “It wouldn’t be easy to herd them, especially in a midnight raid. Where did they take them?”
“Dead in a gully somewhere,” I answered. “Maybe the Ravians too. Starling Gorge isn’t far from here and has some good forest cover. This wasn’t about acquiring merchandise. It was a message.”
“To make us look bad.”
The fires and labor hunters were meant to scare the citizenry, the caravan attacks to hurt business and frighten off traders from the arena, but this attack was meant to bring the kingdoms down upon us.
When we loaded up the last of the meager Vendan belongings, it felt like our questions had been wrung out of us and we were struck silent again. Kazi’s words jabbed me like a bony elbow in my ribs. They had so very little to begin with. It shouldn’t take long to rebuild.
The words stuck with me as Caemus and I walked the length of the valley floor hammering stakes into place to mark foundations. The two of us had gotten off to a bad start, and things hadn’t improved much from there. He was a bullheaded ox. Good soil? It was damn fine soil. Maybe being an obstinate block of wood with a perpetual frown was what was necessary for someone to lead a settlement out here in the middle of nowhere.
I had already known the soil was good. I’d been to this valley many times before, camping here with my father and older siblings. The towering oak still spread out in the middle of the valley, and a rope with a stout stick tied to the end still swung from it too. I fell from that rope more times than I could count. Somehow, I never broke anything.
When I was nine, I told my father that one day I would build a house and live here. He said no, this valley was only a place to visit, that my home and dest
iny was back at Tor’s Watch. This valley was for somebody else yet to come. I had always wondered who that would be.
The shouts of the children turned both of our heads. They had already found the rope and were taking turns swinging from the tree.
“Another house, here?” I asked.
“We’ve already staked out four. That was all we had. Some of us share.”
Kazi had told me there were seven families so I had sent enough timber for seven homes.
“We may end up with extra lumber. If you were to build more houses, where would you want them?” I had been careful to leave the choices up to him. I didn’t want to be accused later of sabotaging their settlement.
He looked at me warily. He still suspected a trick.
To hell with it.
I was tired and I was hungry. I staked out the last three myself.
* * *
Kerry worked silently, not complaining, but stabbing his small garden spade into the soil like it was my kneecap.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Old enough.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
“Old enough to know I don’t like you.”
“Four,” I said. “You must be about four.”
His eyes flashed with indignation. “Seven!” he shouted.
“Then you should know the proper way to dig a post hole.”
“Nothing wrong with my—”