The Desert Spear

mostly stared at his tattooed hands and tried to peek into the shadows of his hood.
    “Next to him is Jeni Tailor,” Jeph went on. “They been promised near two seasons. At the end are our youngest, Silvy and Cholie.”
    Seated opposite the children, next to Renna and Norine, the Painted Man coughed at the names, those of his lost mother and uncle. He took a sip from his water cup to cover his surprise. “You have beautiful children.”
    “Tender Harral says you’re the Deliverer, come again,” little Silvy blurted.
    “Well I ent,” the Painted Man told her. “Just a Messenger, come to spread good word.”
    “Messengers all like you now, then?” Jeph asked. “All painted up?”
    The Painted Man smiled. “I’m one of a kind like that,” he admitted. “But I’m just a man, all the same. Din’t come to deliver anyone.”
    “You sure did for our Renna,” Ilain said. “Can’t thank you enough for that.”
    “Shouldn’t have had to,” the Painted Man said.
    Jeph sat quiet a moment at the rebuke. “You’re right at that,” he said at last, “but sometimes when a body’s in a crowd, and the crowd has its say…”
    “Stop making excuses, Jeph Bales,” Norine snapped. “Man’s right. What do we got in this world, ’cept kith and kin? Ent nothing should keep us from standing by them.”
    The Painted Man looked at her. This wasn’t the Norine he remembered, the one who had stood on the porch the night his mother was cored. Stood and done nothing, except try to keep Arlen from going to her aid. He nodded, his eyes flicking back to meet Jeph’s.
    “She’s right,” he said. “You’ve got to stand up to those that would harm you and yours.”
    “You sound like my son,” Jeph said, his eyes growing distant.
    “Say again?” the Painted Man said, his throat tightening.
    “Me?” Jeph Young asked.
    Jeph shook his head. “Your elder,” he told his son, and everyone at the table except Renna and the Painted Man drew a quick ward in the air.
    “Had another son, name of Arlen, years back,” Jeph explained, and Ilain took his hand in hers, squeezing to lend him strength. “Promised to Renna there, in fact.” He nodded to Renna. “Arlen’s mam was cored, and he ran off.” He looked down at the table, and his voice grew tight. “Always asking about the Free Cities, Arlen was. Like to think he mighta made it there…” He broke off, shaking his head as if to clear it.
    “But you have this beautiful family now,” the Painted Man said, hoping to move the conversation toward something positive.
    Jeph nodded, covering Ilain’s hand in both of his and squeezing. “I thank the Creator for them every day, but that don’t mean I ent carrying a weight for those gone before.”
    After breakfast, the Painted Man went out to the stables to check on Twilight Dancer, more to escape for a moment than for any need. He had just started to brush the horse down when the barn door opened and Renna came in. She cut an apple and held the halves out for Twilight Dancer to eat, stroking the stallion’s flanks when she was done. He nickered softly.
    “It was night when I came runnin’ here, few days ago,” she said. “Demons would’ve got me, Jeph hadn’t crossed the wards and hit one with his axe.”
    “Honest word?” the Painted Man asked, and felt a lump in his throat when she nodded.
    “You’re not going to tell him, are you?” she asked.
    “Tell him what?” the Painted Man asked.
    “That you’re his son,” Renna said. “That you’re alive and well and you forgive him. He’s waited so long. Why are you still punishing him when I can see forgiveness in your eyes?”
    “You know who I am?” he asked, surprised.
    “Course I know!” Renna snapped. “Ent stupid, no matter what everyone thinks. How would you’ve known about my da and what he done, you weren’t Arlen Bales? How would you know Cobie was a bully, or which farm was Jeph’s? Night, you strolled around the cupboards like it was still your house!”
    “Din’t mean for anyone to know,” the Painted Man said, suddenly realizing that his Brook accent, which he ’d dropped while living in Miln, had returned. It was an old Messenger’s trick to put folk in the hamlets at ease, shifting accent to match theirs. He had done it a hundred times, but this time was different, like he ’d been doing the trick since he left and was finally speaking in his own voice again.
    Renna kicked him hard in the shin. He yelped in