If she’d just left the field alone once she’d broken the curse, the earthkit would have seen to it that the wheat grew normally. She knew what Benroln was, and being a farmer’s wife she should have remembered what disasters the weather can bring.

“Benroln,” she said harshly, “you are a fool. This man has assassins in the woods—do you think they lurk there to watch the magic?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the merchant.

Benroln stopped his casting and looked at the other man.

“Why do you think that a man like this would come here without guards?” said Seraph. “There has always been a problem doing the work of solsenti who are willing to hire Travelers to make evil upon others of their kind.”

“What do you suggest?” Benroln said bitterly. “My people will starve. I tried it your way. We were driven from one place to another, sometimes by people who feared what we might do and sometimes by people because we wouldn’t do as they asked. I’ve had four—four—mermori come to me. Four more clans dead and gone.”

“Do not air our quarrels before solsenti,” she said sharply.

Benroln glanced at the merchant and bit his lip.

“Lehr took care of three of the men who were watching,” said Hennea, coming out of the woods with Gura at her side. “Jes has the other one immobilized.”

“So what do we do with him?” Benroln asked.

Jes appeared and grabbed the merchant’s hand.

“You don’t want to draw that knife,” Jes said quietly. “My brother’s over there with one of your men’s bows. No use anyone else dying tonight.”

The merchant all but collapsed at Jes’s touch, and Seraph’s oldest son relieved him of several throwing knives.

“Asherstal,” said Seraph, snapping her fingers. “The owner of this field. He has managed to survive this long; I suspect he can handle this one if we deliver him. Hennea, Jes, could you escort him there?” She turned to Benroln and said, “I need you to call a meeting of your people tonight. I’d like to tell you some things that you need to know.”

If she could persuade the entire clan to follow her to Taela, she’d have the clan’s healer for her husband when she found him. She just wished she were as good at persuading people as Tier was.

Benroln didn’t wait for her, but stomped off, angry at her, at the merchant, and at a responsibility he didn’t know how to fulfill.

When Benroln was gone, Jes said, “He bears no open wounds, Mother, but Lehr is hurt.”

Seraph nodded. “Take this one to the farmhouse and don’t get anyone hurt in the process, and I’ll do my best for Lehr.”

She waited until Jes and Hennea were halfway to the cabin, but before she called out, Lehr came. It was too dark to see him well, but she could smell the blood on him.

“Thank you,” she said. “If you had not been here tonight, Benroln and I would doubtless have been dead.”

“There are three men dead instead,” he said. “Jes tied the fourth one up before I got to him.”

“They were men who were willing to kill for no cause but gold,” said Seraph. Words were not her strength, but for Lehr she searched for the right ones. “They have doubtless killed others on the merchant’s orders. Now they will not kill anyone again.”

“When I killed them,” whispered Lehr, coming toward her, “it was so easy. Easier than hunting deer. What am I, Mother?”

“This is what it means to be an Order-Bearer,” she told him. “None of the Orders are easy. You are Hunter, and among the tasks of the Hunter is the bringing of death.”

She opened her arms, and, when he dropped to his knees in front of her, she pulled him close. He buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“I don’t like it,” he said.

“Shh,” she held him and rocked lightly back and forth, as she had when he’d been a child. “Shh.”

“Someone’s waiting in front of our tent,” said Jes just as Gura gave a happy bark and ran forward with his tail wagging.

“So,” said Brewydd from a bench someone must have carried over for her. “You stopped Benroln from his folly. That’s more than I’ve managed to do.” Gura sat beside her and put his big black muzzle on her knee and heaved a contented sigh.

“Hardly,” said Seraph. “I just pointed out that the merchant he chose to do business with was a thief and a killer—and that any other solsenti he’d find to pay for the same sort of favor will probably be equally bad.”

The old woman cackled, “I never thought of that.”

“It won’t stop him,” said Seraph. “He’s obviously done similar things before; he’ll do them again.”

“Most of them weren’t this bad,” said Brewydd. “Though making certain that a village was dry a month or more in high summer, then forcing them to pay him to bring the rain is no noble deed.”

“No,” agreed Hennea dryly.

“Talk to him at this meeting tonight,” Brewydd told Seraph. “Make him understand what he does is folly.”

“What good will talking do?” asked Lehr. “Haven’t you told him what he’s been doing is wrong? Why would he listen to Mother when he won’t listen to you?”

“Hah!” exclaimed Brewydd. “A man would rather listen to a beautiful woman than a wrinkled old crone. You, boy,” she said pointing at Lehr. “You can help an old woman to her home.”

Lehr took a deep breath, tightened his jaw, and nodded his head. When he took her arm, Brewydd patted his biceps lightly before using him to lever herself up. “Your mother teaches you well, boy. It is good when a youngling is kind to old women.” She winked at Seraph and continued to mutter at Lehr as he led her back to her wagon.

“Right,” said Seraph, hoping Brewydd could do better for Lehr than she’d managed. “Let’s go find Benroln.”

“Seraph,” said Hennea, “if you go and start attacking Benroln for what he’s done, you’ll make Lehr happy and we’ll all go our separate ways tomorrow. Benroln will still take gold from the next solsenti who wants to pay to have his neighbor’s fields destroyed, and you’ll have the satisfaction of telling them what you think of them.”

“You have another suggestion?” said Seraph.

“The Secret Path is very powerful,” said Hennea. “They claim that they run the Empire, and that might very well be true. Having more people to call on for help could be very useful.”

“I’ve thought of that,” said Seraph. “But—Hennea, I am not a Bard. Yelling I can do, but persuasion is another matter entirely. Would you try?”

She shook her head. “To Benroln and his people, you are our leader. To have me speak to them would be an insult. You can do this. Just remember that Benroln is frustrated because there’s nothing he can do to keep his people safe. Give him something to do other than rob the solsenti of their gold, some way to strike back, and he’ll forget about the games.”

Isfain was angry with Hennea, Seraph observed as she sipped her hot tea. But Hennea had told her the state she’d found Jes in, and Seraph didn’t mind seeing him grit his teeth when Hennea got too close. What chance had given Hennea the knowledge of loosing the foundrael, Seraph didn’t know, but she was grateful for it all the same.

Hennea had certainly impressed a few people with her freeing of Jes. The whole Rongier clan, at least those present at the small gathering in front of Benroln’s tent, were treating Hennea as if she’d grown a third head.

Or maybe Hennea was just sitting too close to Jes.

Jes had no intention of forgiving anyone for imprisoning him. He lurked in a wolfish form only half-revealed by the flickering light of the bonfire. It might have been easier if he’d chosen to be wolf in whole, but the wolf’s muzzle and eyes in an otherwise human body was particularly disturbing. Low growls told everyone that he was unhappy with them all. Seraph rather thought the shape was an illusion, but it was difficult to tell.

Brewydd had brought Lehr with her. He looked tired, but the sickness had faded from his eyes. When the old woman griped at him and ordered him to move her camp chair three times before she sat in it, he actually grinned.