If Crows Know Best (Mage of Merced Book 1) (3 page)

“When will you be coming back? How far away is this marshal they want you to see? Won’t you and Wils be back tomorrow?”

“There’s no telling at present. We could be gone a week, a month, longer still. I need to know you can keep safe at home if war comes our way.” He sighed. “This makes no sense on the face of it. I want you to have a secure place to go to ground if soldiers come to the mountain. Do you know where to prepare places out of the way?”

I nodded. “I know good caves to use.”

“I know you’ll take it seriously. Don’t let anyone know—the village folk—no one. If it comes to that, and you want to take Virda up as well, I leave it to you.”

Laid on me, deciding to let soldiers murder Virda or not? This was too much to hear at once. “Am I to let Annora know?” I said this quietly, pretending to look at the backboard of the wagon for damage. I couldn’t meet his eye just then, I felt too tight in the throat.

Da bent to look with me. “I leave that to you as well. She has her wits close by her, but may be that wrought up over Wils being off to war on their wedding day—maybe you’ll tell her when you’ve done.”

Morie had just figured out that Da and Wils were leaving and set up a screeching wail. Da made sure I had no more to ask before he went round to her, though. I could not help but feel proud—and burdened.

Morie cried all the way out the streets to the edge of town. “I want Da!” over and over, even Annora could not soothe her. Which was just silly to expect, I knew, since Morie saw her for the first time only hours ago. But I had to drive the team, so Annora held her as she hiccoughed and sniveled. Annora did not cry. It tore at me to see her, with the ribbons trailing out of her hair, looking back down the road with dry eyes. The soldiers would march west we had learned; we set off home on the village road north. I planned my cave havens as the miles rolled past.

CHAPTER 2

Virda had the wedding meal set in back under the willows when we drew up to the barn. She bustled over wiping her hands on her apron, smiling until she counted heads. “Whatever—” was all she managed to say before Morie scrambled down onto her, sobbing all over again. I hopped down and helped Annora onto the ground.

“You tell her,” I said, “while I see to the horses.”

By the time I put all the gear away and watered and fed the team, I felt a little less like my head was stuffed with fluff. I carried Annora’s packet of things over to where the women were seated at the long table. Annora sat at the head, with Wils’s empty place beside her. Virda cradled Morie on her lap, feeding her bits from her own plate, like when she was a baby.

I sat on the other side and took some sausage and bread. I looked close at what was laid out, thinking what would keep in a mountain cave. Would it be best to start packing tonight?

“Poor lamb, and on your wedding day!” Virda sighed.
Good, someone else can be poor lamb now.

“Will you help me learn what needs doing here? I’ve never been at such a big place,” Annora said softly.

“Of course, dear. There’s lots to do to make ready for winter. But, they’ll be back before then, of course they will,” she said quickly, as Annora’s eyes shifted to look off the way we’d come.

A couple of Virda’s sons, on dry land for a change, came up to play their feddles for the dancing that wasn’t to be. They plucked the strings and twisted the knobs to tune them to each other. We lit the fire Virda laid, and warmed ourselves while they played sea-songs under the trees. The stars glowed and a fox came sniffing by the edge of the grass. “No chickens for you,” I heard Annora say to it, but the fox just sat and let its tongue loll out to one side.

Annora and Virda cleared up the food, and I showed Annora the washhouse. Morie showed her Murr the yellow kitten, and Annora made over it to Morie’s satisfaction. I checked all the stock and shut up the henhouse. We said farewells to Virda and her sons, as they set off down the slope carrying a lantern. We three went inside then, and I realized I had no idea where to put Annora. She would have been supposed to share a bed with Wils, but she could hardly sleep in the loft room I shared with him. Da’s room? It seemed too strange for her to sleep in his bed. But maybe that had been the plan, for Wils and Annora to have the room behind the stairs, which had been Mum and Da’s. No one thought to tell me. I stood at a loss, but Morie took Annora’s hand and led her to the top of the stairs.

“You can sleep in my bed,” she chattered. “There hasn’t been enough girls here until now.”

“Thank you, Morie. Is that all right, Judian?”

I hadn’t thought to be asked. “That should be fine.”

“What about you? Do you sleep upstairs as well?”

“I’ll stay down here by the fire for now.”

She looked as if she had something else to say, but Morie was tugging on her hand.

“I’ll wake you in the morning when it’s time to start the chores,” I said.

“Good night then, Judian.”

“Yes,” I said. If I should have said something else, I didn’t know what.

###

Once the girls had shut their door, I went to the big oak chair Da sat in every night by the fire. I felt very small sitting there. I poked the fire a bit, and then rested my chin on my pulled-up knees. If I gathered some food and packed it by the back door, I could take it up to the cave I had picked out, first thing tomorrow. Virda planned to come help Annora, and I could tell them I must go up to check fence, or whatever made sense as a reason for heading up the track with a loaded pack.

I was deep into my plans, and starting to drowse in the fire’s glow, too, when I heard a thud at the door. I leaped to my feet, snatching for the poker when it came again, a single low blow on the outside of the door.

“Who’s there?” I managed to say as deep as my voice would go.

No answer from the outside, but Annora’s voice quietly from the top of the stairs, “Judian? What is it?”

“Shh.” I crossed to the window that looked out on the porch. Another thump made me jerk back my hand from the curtain, but I stretched it out again to draw the corner of the curtain aside. In the moonlight, on the stones crouched the biggest black dog I had ever seen. I’d have thought it was a bear if it hadn’t had a long flag of a tail. As I watched, it lurched forward and butted its huge blocky head against the door. Annora sucked in her breath behind me, having crept to the bottom of the stairs.

“Do you have a dog?” I asked faintly.

“No. Is that a
dog
making that noise?”

“Mmm.” I wanted to sit down.

“Are you going to let her in?” Annora walked to the window beside me, and twitched the curtain aside.

“Are you going to tell me you’re sure it won’t eat us all?”

“She wants to come in, it’s cold out.”
Thump
, and the beast began wagging madly, too.

“Have you seen it before? I’ve never seen it, it’s huge. Annora, wait—”

She drew back the bolt and swung the door wide. The bear-dog sat back and waited, a mass of matted black hair hanging from its broad chest. It had feet the size of horse hooves.

“Come on, then.” Annora stood aside. The dog rose, and walked in straight to the rug by the hearth, where it circled and lay down with a deep sigh.

“In the morning, we’ll clean her up. She smells a bit now.” Annora wrinkled her nose, then smiled at me. “Animals turn up quite often where I am.”

“If it eats Morie’s kitten I’m not going to be the one to tell her.”

Annora smiled again, as if this was the least likely thing she had ever heard, and went off up the stairs, lifting her nightshift in both fists. I watched her for a moment, her long plait swinging as she walked.

“You’ll tell me if you’re expecting anything else?” I said, as I crossed over to Da’s chair. The dog opened one eye as I sat down. I showed it the poker I still gripped, and it sighed again and closed its dark eye.

“Fine,” I said. “Just stay right there and don’t do anything but sleep.” I echoed its sigh. “That’s what I wish I could do.”

But presently, I did sleep, though I kept the poker across my lap.

CHAPTER 3

I woke to Morie jabbing me in the shoulder, saying, “You should see our dog. She likes me.” I tried to turn my head to her, but my neck felt like it had a wire strung through one side. I looked back the other way to find the dog regarding me placidly an inch away from my nose. “Gaah!”

“You’ll scare her!” Morie shook her finger at me.

“That’s likely.” The dog hadn’t moved, though I had lurched up and wrenched my neck all the worse.

Annora put a steaming mug in my hand. “Virda hasn’t come yet. Is there anything I should start besides breakfast? What do you like?”

“Oat gruel!” sang Morie. “With honey, please.”

“Anything.” I took a pull on the brew. “I’ll milk and feed. Morie can gather eggs.”

“You come too.” Morie patted the broad black head, and the dog thumped its tail on the floor.

“Morie, some dogs chase chickens. You can take Murr.” I stretched my shoulders. Tonight I’d sleep in a bed.

“And Annora,” Morie assured me. “She wants to get the eggs too.”

“I’ve no doubt.”

“And Virda,” Morie prattled happily as she went off to get her boots by the back door.

“Ask Virda if she wants a dog,” I said, eyeing the massive shaggy thing. It seemed to look at me with gentle reproach. “Only she is a widow alone, after all.”

###

When I carried the milk back to the house, I found Virda and Annora exploring the kitchen garden, and Morie teasing Murr with a strand of twine on the back stoop. The dog sat with dignity next to the steps, ignoring the kitten’s occasional scrambles across her paws.

“Her name is Wieser,” Morie told me confidently.

“What, she told you? Now you can talk to animals, too?”

Morie nodded, bouncing her dark curls. “Like Annora.”

“Well, Wieser, you need to come over to the pump and get a wash to cut the smell. Morie, go get a comb in the barn. You can get some of Wieser’s snarls out.” I went in the kitchen for a sliver of soap, and to set the milk bucket next to Morie’s basket of eggs. Wieser rose when I stepped back out and followed me to the pump without prompting.

She had to have been on her own for some time judging from the look of her coat, which hung clotted with mud and matted around burrs and twigs. She was not thin, however, and stood patiently while we sluiced her with cold water and dragged at her fur with the comb. Annora came over, too, and worked at the tangles. Some we had to cut away, but most Annora teased out with slim fingers. Wieser shook herself when we finally stepped back, and the sun gleamed on her curly black coat.

Next I packed up torches, lanterns and oil in the barn instead of packing foodstuffs, since everyone else gathered in the kitchen and larder after Wieser’s bath. An axe and shovel were the largest items, so I had to start strapping everything onto Dink, our mule. I had a leather pack stuffed full, and figured I could carry no more than one pack at a time without raising questions. I had many trips up into the hills ahead of me, if I was to stock three caves with a week’s provisions. I started a list of what I took, figuring it would soon challenge memory to recall what I placed where. Dink pulled wisps from his hay net. I was writing an inventory of the first pack when I heard a sound behind me, a soft cough.

I jumped and spun about as though doing something guilt-worthy, and found Annora holding out a paper-wrapped packet and a water jug.

“Some food. You’re going up to the high pasture? Virda said you and Wils have brought all the animals down. Maybe you want to take Wieser with you?”

I almost said “Why?”, but realized she meant since I didn’t have Wils. No doubt she didn’t know I’d been doing it alone all summer while Wils courted her. Wieser herself appeared at Annora’s side just on cue.

“I’ll go by myself as I generally do—thanks though. Lots of stockmen use dogs, I’m surprised a calm one like Wieser isn’t working a herd somewhere. Although, black dogs scare the stock, you need a dog with some white on it, but not all white or the herd won’t pay it any mind.” To my ears, I sounded just as idiotic as Wils had become.

“She’s come to us now, to stay,” Annora said. “Judian, how will we get news of your da and Wils? Should we expect they will send word where they are? Should we go back to the town to see if we can find out … anything?”

“We can rely on Virda, she knows all the news and gossip anyone can hope to learn. She’s down to the village at least every few days for this and that, though not all the way to the harbour town. There’s often merchant traffic coming through there. She’ll be sure to nose out any developments recounted. And she’ll carry every tale she can back up here to us, be certain.”

“Have they gone to war? Or just to find out what’s happening, as Fenn said?”

I raised my shoulders. “I wish I could say.”

“So,” she brushed straw off her skirt, “do you come back for supper? We’ll wait for you, if you will be back by dark.”

“Yes, I’ll be back by nightfall. Have Virda stay until I come down, and I’ll carry her home in the small cart. Ahh … she’ll mother you ragged if you let her.” I did feel I should warn her.

I got a sunny smile in response. “I quite like her. She’s been nothing but kind. She thought a lot of your mother.” She paused to look about her. “I do know how to muck out stalls, if that needs doing.”

I nodded toward the pitchfork and stuffed the list paper in my pocket. I had to hold the food packet after tying Dink’s pack shut, for I left no room in it. “It seems there’s enough food here for both Wieser and me,” I said, hefting the packet. “So you’d better come with, dog. Let’s go.” I took a walking staff from next to the door. “We’ll be back. Don’t let Morie worry you to a frazzle.”

Annora waved as I led the way upslope and Wieser followed, placidly padding alongside Dink.

I went to the closest cave first, not far from the upper meadow. I figured we needed one we could reach quickly from the house. Wils—when he used to work—and I were often up in the meadow with the goats and our few sheep, keeping watch over them while they looked for ways to die. Our shelter there, truly more of a hut, would not do for a hiding place. But the cave he and I had explored could not be seen easily, back in the trees and boulders on the north side of the meadow. I led Dink to the entrance, and tied him while I pulled the pack from his back. Then I led him back to the meadow and tied him near the stream so he could drink. Wieser felt compelled, for whatever dog reason she had, to splash in the pool and get soaked and sloppy while getting her own drink and then shaking all over me. “How many baths a day are you used to?” I asked while I wiped my eyes.

I placed everything deep inside the cave and up on a ledge as high as I could reach. I thought about digging the trench for the fire. Wouldn’t it be better to do that after I had hauled everything we needed to all the caves? I remembered a tin trunk at home, and thought that would help keep mice out of the food I brought up. I had heard of folk who dug deep holes to hide clay pots filled with food, before disguising the trap doors above. How deep could I dig in the cave floor before I hit stone? I think the folk that did that must have lived in the plains, where the grass-covered soil runs deep, instead of the mountains. Up here, the bones of the earth rest closer to the surface.

I knelt at the back wall and scratched the symbol for the kavsprit there with my knife. The wise always leave deep-earth creatures some offering to thank them for allowing folk to share their dark places, so they make no mischief. I put some pine nuts and wildflower seeds in a palm-sized linen pouch beneath the sign, and water in a thimble of clay. Both would be empty when I returned, but I didn’t expect to see the creatures themselves. Few folk ever had. They kept hidden whenever men came about, and dwelled ever with no light at all.

Next I took the axe out to the trees and gathered and chopped dry wood to keep at the back behind a rock, so a firewood stash couldn’t be seen from the mouth of the cave. I would also have to bring some pots or jugs to store additional water.

“What would you suggest?” I asked Wieser. “Maybe you could be fitted with panniers like the dogs in Da’s one book.” Wieser had a broad back, and was surely strong. Really, not a bad idea to have her haul with me. I shared the hard-cooked eggs, bread and cheese Annora had sent, since none of it would keep in the cave.

“Blankets,” I said to Wieser, because back inside just a short way the air grew damp and chill. I knew it would always stay the same within, whether hot outside or bitter cold. A draft wafted from deeper in, but the passage soon narrowed so much there was no way to go further. Wils and I had tried to explore more last spring, but were blocked by crowding, dark rock. Likely there was a whole network through the mountain, all interconnected. Usually I liked to imagine things such as that, but just then the thought made me glad for Wieser’s sturdy presence.

I left the water jug at the back of the cave, refilled from the stream, and strapped the empty pack onto Dink. I felt I had done a good day’s work but still had plans and lists coiling and flexing in my mind all the way down to home.

When Wieser, Dink and I emerged from the meadow trail, smoke curled from the kitchen chimney, and gold evening light touched the stone walls.
It’s a good house,
I thought. Rambling and large enough to have quiet places to be alone and good rooms for all of us together to eat and read by the fire. I felt a rush of missing Da and Wils and wanting war to stay far away from our house and lands. I put Dink away and readied the little cart, but found the evening barn chores already done, with the horses pulling at their hay nets and the water trough full. Wieser and I came to the back door, where I heard Annora singing, in a clear rich voice that put me in mind of my mum singing to us when we were small.

Wieser wanted to go in, probably because something smelled delicious in the kitchen, but I stood for a bit and listened, my heart beating in time to her music.