When the next day ca it started to rain making the mud heavier to on our feet.
The rain stopped just before mid day. Mist clung to the marshes like a faded cloak, and the dew made the thatched tents glisten in the morning light. Levi awoke early, more out of habit than urgency, stepping outside to find Mae waiting with a weathered smile and a steaming mug of tea.
"You rember what day it is?" she asked, handing it to him.
Levi blinked. "No. Should I?"
"Ashwake," she said. "The day we burn old wood for the old souls. It's a swamp tradition. Not many keep it anymore."
Levi looked toward the village, then at the barely-complete fra of the new storage house. The workers would be here soon. But sothing tugged at him. A chance to bring them all together not just to build, but for traditions to be alive.
"Let's keep it," he said. "Let's make it be rembered once more with here to join in."
By afternoon, word had spread through the village. Levi set aside a quarter of their food stores, knowing the cost, but hoping the gesture would plant sothing stronger.
In the middle of the village a huge bon fire was going on the fire roared and danced like it was happy and being recognized of its traditions.
Music ca from a boy with a reed-flute, and old Nan Roelle sang a swamp lullaby that made more than one grown man weep.
Children danced near the edge of the firelight, while the elders whispered old nas into the smoke. Mae said that part mattered most.
He watched them from a worn bench, Jory beside him, both chewing smoked lizard at from a shared skewer. The mont felt still. Honest.
But peace rarely lasted long.
A shout rose from the northern road. Soone running.
"Cart! A cart's down! n trapped!"
Levi and Jory leapt to their feet. The workers grabbed ropes and planks. Within half an hour, they reached the scene: a rchant wagon half-subrged in the mud, one wheel snapped clean, crates strewn in the reeds.
A short, stocky man waved them over. "By the Gods, thought we'd drown in that bog!" he shouted.
Levi recognized the sigil on the side of the cart: a river eel circling a coin. A minor trade house from White Harbor.
They got the n out first, then salvaged what goods they could salted at, cloth, and a precious barrel of lamp oil. The rchant, who introduced himself as Ferran Dale, offered thanks and a handful of copper stars, but Levi waved them off.
"I don't need coin," Levi said. "I need wisdom."
Ferran chuckled. "Wisdom, eh? But trade's the blood in a land's veins. You're in a good spot here. Close enough to Moat Cailin to catch traffic, far enough to avoid lords' noses. Start small preserve food, dry herbs, build a road that holds through the season."
Levi nodded, listening close. "And when winter cos?"
"Then you sell what others forgot to store," Ferran said. "Trade's not about gold, it's about timing. Learn that, and you'll never go hungry again."
By the ti the cart was set back on a spare wheel, Levi's mind spun with plans: drying sheds, herbal stores, maybe a smith soday. A marsh road wide enough for two wagons. It wouldn't happen in one year but maybe three.
When the celebration resud, he sat alone for a ti, scribbling on his papyrus. Numbers. Nas. Ferran's advice burned into every note. As midnight ca people finally started to go back to their hos.
And then the stranger ca.
A thin man, with sharp features and a cloak too fine for these parts. He ca with no cart, no horse. Just boots caked in mud and a hunger in his eyes.
"You're the one they talk about?" he asked, stopping at Levi's bench.
"I don't think so you might be looking for soone else, Stranger." Levi said cautiously.
The man nodded at the fire and the food. "I think it is you after all you seem to be the one giving out als. Build his own ho. But I heard sothing else… That you write things down. Keep ledgers."
Levi narrowed his eyes. "I do."
"Good. I'm looking for gold," the man said, too simply.
"Then you won't find much here."
The man smiled. "Maybe not now. But you're near Moat Cailin. And I think there's sothing buried in that ruin that people forgot. When you're ready to go digging, rember ."
Without another word, the stranger turned and vanished into the reeds, his boots silent on the wet grass.
Levi sat there long after he left, staring into the fire. Gold. Moat Cailin. Forgotten things.
"was the man sane? gold in this lands?"
Levi shakes his head in doubt. Deciding to just go to sleep like the rest.
Reviews
All reviews (0)