“Come over here. I’ll show you.”
He grudgingly walked over, dragging his spade behind him. I marked a small circle in the soil, and we began a new hole together. He twisted his face into a scowl but followed my directions.
“You go to school?” I asked.
“Jurga teaches me letters, but she doesn’t know them all.”
“Is Jurga your mother?”
“Sort of. She took me in.”
I learned there were eight children at the settlement. Three were orphans, and Kerry was one of them. He only had a faint memory of his parents. They had died in a fire back in Venda. It explained the pink scarring that crept up his arm.
“Would you like to learn all the letters?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t see what use it is.”
“You like stories?”
His eyes brightened, but then he remembered he was supposed to be scowling and his brows pulled down. “Sometimes.”
“If you learn all your letters, then you can read stories on your own.”
“Still no use. Don’t have no books.”
I thought about the belongings gathered from the homes and loaded in wagons. There was crockery, barrels of dried food, cookware, tools, clothing, some basic furniture, and nothing more.
“This hole’s finished,” I said. “That’s enough digging for today. Go get some dinner.”
* * *
I pulled off my shirt and washed up at the river’s edge. There were several Vendans down there doing the same. I felt their stares, scrutinizing the tattoo across my shoulder and chest, trying to make sense of it. Or maybe just trying to make sense of me.
Heavy footsteps tromped behind me. “Canvas is up,” Mason said, then stooped beside me to wash up too. I’d had several large open air tents brought in to protect against the sun and possible rain until the homes were finished. He leaned closer. “Friendly bunch, aren’t they?”
“At least one of them is.”
He knew who I was talking about and frowned. “She has it out for me. I don’t know why.”
“Maybe because you were the one who relieved her of her weapons back in Hell’s Mouth.”
“I gave them back—which I still think was a big mistake.”
“It was my agreement with Kazi. I don’t think you need to worry about Synové stabbing you.”
“She’s an expert archer, you know?”
“Most of those on our patrols are expert archers. She’s Rahtan. It doesn’t surprise me.”
“No, when I say expert, I mean, expert. She could shoot the shadow off a fly at a hundred paces.”
He told me that when he gave her weapons back as I ordered, she drew an arrow with hardly a thought and shot a loose chain on a passing wagon, pinning it into silence, saying the jingle annoyed her.
“I think she was trying to impress you more than threaten you. Nervous?”
He shook his head. “Her mouth is what’s going to do me in.”
“Speaking of mouths, Gunner behaving himself?”