Shadows and Light

Ari and Neall.”
    “Was the boy found?” Ashk asked, feeling worry flutter in her stomach.
    The man shook his head.

    “Could he—?” You’re thinking like a worried mother. That won’t help anyone. “Could he have run away?”
    The man gave her a curious look. “To go where? From what the groom said, the boy came from one of the tenant farms and saw his family often enough that he wouldn’t be pining for home. He liked his work, and Forrester is a fair man with those who work under him. So is the baron.“
    Which meant there was some other reason for the boy not returning last night. An injury, perhaps.
    Something that had made it impossible for him to get back to the manor house on his own.
    Ashk looked at Morag. The Gatherer’s grim expression didn’t change.
    A crow flew toward them, landed nearby, and changed into a Fae youth. “There’s a pony cart heading this way.”
    “Everyone go back to what you were doing,” Ashk said. She saw Morag walk over to the large outdoor table where members of the Clan often ate or worked. She joined Morag, settling beside her on the bench. “Anything?”
    Morag shook her head. “Death is waiting.”
    Ashk almost asked if that was a good thing; then she realized it was wishful thinking. Whatever Morag heard or felt through her gift had become stronger. Death was now a certainty, but they still didn’t know where or who it would touch.
    The pony cart came in sight. Stopped where the road flowed into the sun-dappled space the Clan used as an outdoor living area—what Padrick, with a smile in his eyes, said was the Fae’s equivalent to the manor house’s front lawn.
    Ashk didn’t recognize the young man driving the cart, but she knew the farmer who got down and headed toward her with a cloth-wrapped bundle in his hands. Barry was one of Padrick’s tenant farmers.
    He and his wife had two grown sons, and an adolescent daughter who still lived at home. The sons, who lived in their own cottages with their wives and young families, worked the land with their father and took their share of the profits.
    As Barry approached the table where she and Morag sat, Ashk noticed two of her Clan’s men set aside their work and wander over. Nothing unusual about that—unless you noticed one of them held a walking stick stout enough to double as a club and the other had an arrow loosely nocked in his bow.
    “A good day to you, ladies,” Barry said.
    “A good day to you,” Ashk replied. Barry had married later in his life, after his father had died and he’d taken over the tenant farm. So he was a fair number of years older than she and had the lined, grizzled look of a man who’d spent his life outdoors. But he hadn’t looked old. Not old in the stooped, shrunken way he looked now. Before she could ask him if something was wrong, he jerked his head toward the pony cart.
    “My cousin’s boy,” he said. “Works as some kind of clerk in one of the larger towns. Needed a bit of country air, so he came here for a visit.” He shifted a little, effectively cutting off Ashk’s view of the young man—and his view of her— and just as effectively putting his young kinsman directly in Morag’s line of sight.
    “Since he’s visiting, my wife did some extra baking. Made a couple loaves of her special sweet bread.“
    Barry looked directly at Morag; then he set the cloth bundle on the table and unwrapped it to reveal a loaf of the bread. ”Lady Ashk is partial to my wife’s sweet bread. We’d heard she’s been away and was expected back today, so my wife told me to bring this on over to welcome her home. When she gets home, you be sure to give it to her.“ He reached out, tore off a small corner of the bread. Popped it into his mouth, chewed a couple of times, then swallowed. And stared at Morag. ”Lady Ashk sure is partial to my wife’s sweet bread.“
    Morag didn’t move, didn’t answer. Simply stared back at him.
    Ashk frowned at Barry. Why was he talking as if she wasn’t there, as if she hadn’t returned to the Clan house yet? Had he suffered some kind of brain seizure that had left him confused?
    Barry brushed a finger against the brim of his cap. “Good day to you.”
    He hurried back to the cart before Ashk had a chance to thank him for the bread. When he climbed onto the seat and looked at her, she reached out, intending to pinch off a corner of the bread and eat it so that he would know she appreciated the gift.
    Morag slapped her hand so hard she