Chapter Text
Fall had come to Oleana; morning frost chilled the ground and the leaves on the trees were turning colors. Sumac rode up toward Hickory Lake with Rig Crow and Iwassa Muskrat; the once-every-two-years hinterland meeting had ended, and they were bringing news of the current allotments of patrol sectors to Fairbolt Crow. The load for these next two years was going to be heavier than the previous one; trying to meet the demand would make for an interesting couple of years for Hickory Lake Camp -- they'd fallen behind trying to deal with their last allotment, she didn't know how they'd manage this one.
The path widened enough for three abreast, so Rig nudged his horse up alongside Sumac, on the other side of Iwassa. He said, "I'm glad the meeting's done with. I was wondering for a time there if we'd ever get it wrapped up. After we give the allotments to Fairbolt, I plan to head over to my tent and just sit without saying anything for at least an hour. Having to listen to the children quarrel will be nothing compared to listening to a great bunch of company captains fighting it out."
Iwassa chuckled. "I'm more thinking of going out in my narrowboat as far away from any arguing as I can get. How about you, Sumac?"
She shook her head. "I'm afraid the hinterland meetings haven't been able to match Tent Redwing yet. I was mostly thinking I'd like to find Uncle Dag and talk to him for a bit. I expect he's home. Captain Dag Redwing. I thought he'd never agree to a promotion; I wonder how Fairbolt got him to take it?" She was looking forward to telling her Uncle Dag about the springtime malice her patrol had encountered. She hoped she might win one of his rare smiles when she told him how his ratty old coat had saved her life.
Iwassa said, "Likely he's getting resty by now. From the official report we got two weeks ago, I wouldn't expect he'd be anything like recovered yet. I suppose he won't be a member of my company any more, but I think I'll be wanting to check up on him soon anyway."
Rig frowned. "Yes, now you mention it. He did a real fine job out in Raintree; I was thinking I'd like to ask him a few questions about his planning for that last battle. Iwassa, what'd you think about that Log Hollow fellow's tale? You know, the one where Dag went alone into a malice lair down near Glassforge? Do you suppose him being a captain might finally put a stop to those crazy stunts?"
Iwassa's lips twisted. "I can wish. Problem is he wants to get killed. Unless that changes, I don't see much chance of it. Though I do wonder.... Is he even going to be able to captain properly? You just can't do that sort of thing as a captain."
Rig snickered. "Maybe that farmer girl the fellow spoke of changed him."
This time, Iwassa's eyes rolled. "Oh, right! I'll believe Dag's evil horse jumped the cliff before I'll believe it about him!"
Rig then said, "I've touched grounds with the bridge guard." They rode in silence the rest of the way to the bridge leading up to Hickory Lake Camp.
When they reached the bridge, Rig smiled and nodded to the guard. The young man swallowed, saying, "Sumac! I have some messages for you. Your papa and your grandmama both want you to see them first thing when you come in. So does Fairbolt, but he says that no matter who else wants to talk to you, you should see him first, in private."
Sumac's brows drew down. "What's this about? Is this something to do with Uncle Dag?"
He looked down, frowning deeply. "I'm not allowed to talk about it; you're supposed to see Fairbolt and he'll explain everything."
"All right, then, I'll head over there first off." She tried not to picture what would happen at Tent Redwing when Papa and Grandmama learned she'd not obeyed their instructions. They started across the bridge in silence.
At the shore road, Rig handed her the list of sectors and their report about the meeting, saying, "I suppose you might as well give the allotments to him while you're there. It sounds like we aren't to be going with you."
She rode to patrol headquarters on her own. It was hard to shake off a feeling of doom. She didn't think she'd have gotten this reception from the guard if Uncle Dag had died, but she couldn't come up with any alternative theory.
Fairbolt met her at the headquarters' front door. "Come on in, and sit down. We have a lot to talk about."
She walked into his office; he closed the door behind her. This was not looking good. She pulled a chair up to his desk and sat; he sat as well. She really hoped she wasn't about to be handed Uncle Dag's newly-primed knife or some such.
Out of a sense of duty, and wishing to put off whatever this was going to be, she gathered up the allotments and her report on the meeting. As she handed them to Fairbolt, she said, "We have more sectors rather than fewer, I'm afraid. When we learned about the troubles in Raintree, we threw out all the work we'd done and started over; this time figuring to help them as best we could. That's why the meeting went so long this time. Mostly what this means for us is that we've got a good number of sectors in eastern Raintree in addition to most of our usual ones for the next two years."
Fairbolt shook his head and sighed, but he didn't protest. They spoke of the meeting and the sectors that Hickory Lake had been allotted for a few more minutes. Once they'd finished, however, and she'd run out of additional comments to make, Fairbolt cleared his throat and said, "I don't know any way to make my news for you easier. Dag left camp about a month ago. I doubt he'll ever return."
Sumac stared. After a moment, she said, "He's left for good several times now. He's always come back after a while." She wondered what Grandmama had done this time to set him off. Last time he'd left, a bit over eight years ago, he'd stayed away nearly a year and a half.
Fairbolt shook his head. "This time is different." He paused. "Have you heard anything about his actions this summer?"
She nodded cautiously. "I heard about the Raintree malice, of course, and I've read the report you wrote about it." That didn't seem to be quite what Fairbolt was after, so she described the Glassforge tale she'd heard at the meeting, concluding with, "Can you imagine that Log Hollow fellow thinking Uncle Dag would jump the cliff with a farmer girl? I'm with Iwassa on that one -- Copperhead'll do that before Dag does!"
Fairbolt squeezed his eyes shut. "I'd have thought the same. But it's true. He showed up string-bound with a young farmer girl, Fawn Bluefield, and he named himself as Dag Bluefield. There was a big argument in camp over what to do about it; your papa and grandmama ended up bringing the matter to the camp council. They claimed the cords were false because Dag helped Fawn make hers. Of course, she helped him with his, too, but that didn't count with them. There are real limits to what I can say about the matter, due to it being council business, but I will say this. Those cords are every bit as real as any other cords I've ever seen. What their claim did was it provided a way to try to get rid of her without having to threaten to banish Dag. Three of the folk on the council voted that the cords were false, three voted they were true. I abstained, because Dag said he didn't care how the vote went; he'd leave the following day anyway. In effect, he's chosen to banish himself. He gave good reasons for why he was leaving; I gave him my blessing when he left. I hope he finds an answer.... Anyway. A lot of folk don't really believe he was serious; they reckon he was just besotted and that he was making excuses. Most everyone is still upset, so you'll be hearing a deal about it. I'd recommend that you talk to Mari first before anyone else; while he and Fawn were here, they put up a tent between Sarri Otter's place and hers. Mari was also at Glassforge and in his company in Raintree, so she's had the best view of the events of anyone in camp."
Sumac sat stunned, looking at his desk. After a minute or so, she looked up. Opening her mouth to speak, she realized she had no words to say, so she closed it again. She did not cry. It took some work, but at least she could manage that much. How had this happened? What would she do now? She felt like she was in a boat floating loose on the lake with no paddle to steer it. After some more time spent staring at Fairbolt, she stood and walked out without saying a word.
Talking with great-aunt Mari and Dirla -- they'd been doing archery practice together, but they broke off when she arrived -- filled in some details, but didn't change the basic picture Fairbolt had given her. Afterwards, she stopped by Mare Island to put her horse to pasture and talk with Mama. Omba didn't have many details to add; she'd been forbidden by Grandmama to pay Dag any visits until he'd gotten rid of the farmer girl.
Sumac began helping Omba with the mares. She was a bit startled to sense just how many of them were in foal. When she commented on it, Omba said ruefully, "Well. That'd be because Rig Crow's stallion swam across a bit over a month ago and had himself a fine old time. I'm guessing I'll be in trouble with him as soon as he learns about it all. Not long now, I suppose."
Sumac shook her head. In other circumstances, she might have made a joke about it to lighten her mama's mood, but today she didn't think she had any laughter in her. She kept helping Omba to keep her mind off all that she'd learned. She also did not want to deal with Grandmama in the mood she'd surely be in. For purposes of delaying the inevitable, it was good up till dinnertime. As she expected, when she and Omba finally left the island and arrived ... home ... (except how could it be home with her uncle gone for good?), she endured a much more unpleasant description of the summer's events. Papa and Grandmama took turns competing in who could say the ugliest things about Dag's farmer girl.
After a few days of this, Grandmama changed the subject. To Sumac's need to get string-bound and start a family and do her duty for Tent Redwing. Every blighted minute of every blighted day. Papa joined in after not too long. Sumac did what she could to avoid them; she spent long hours doing combat practice with her patrol, or helping with the horses on Mare Island, or visiting great-aunt Mari and great-uncle Cattagus.
About five days later, a messenger came up to her while she was on Mare Island. Fairbolt wanted to see her; it wasn't urgent -- it was time for her yearly review. She decided that she might as well head over sooner rather than later, so she ground-tapped her mama to let her know she was heading out and went over to headquarters.
She and Fairbolt spent a while talking about the needs of her patrol and her progress with training the younger members. At the end of their discussion, she commented, "It looks to me like you're down a company captain as of last month. Got anyone in mind for the job yet?"
Fairbolt gave her a fishy stare. After a short pause, he said, "As it happens, you'll be a shoo-in for the job -- just as soon as you return to the patrol from your childbearing years."
Sumac glared. "Not you, too!"
Fairbolt spoke to her about how Massape had managed both childraising and captaining just fine, and how Mari had managed similarly.
Sumac sighed at him. Loudly. After a bit of silence from him, she said, "Do you think I haven't tried to find a husband? I'm not about to bring some fellow into Tent Redwing. Grandmama and Papa would crush most anyone within a day."
Fairbolt grimaced; he made no attempt to deny the problem. "Have you considered moving into your husband's tent, instead of the other way around? Cumbia can only oppose the idea so much, considering she got Omba to do the same."
"Yes. Not many families are willing to consider it. Of those that are, any that are in Hickory or a nearby Camp would get overruled by the head of Tent Redwing and the senior knife maker of the biggest camp in Oleana right quick. It wouldn't be long after that before I was back in Tent Redwing again, you know. As it happens, I've met a couple of men who lived far away and who looked like to agree to me moving into their tents, but it turned out both times that it was because the heads of their own tents were every bit as bad of dragons as Grandmama. I'm not hopping out of the pan just so I can land in the fire, thank you."
Fairbolt sighed. "At least think about it some more; surely there's some way to make things work out."
Sumac left his office shaking her head.
A week passed with no sign of letup, and Sumac was getting desperate. Her own patrol wasn't due to go out again until late winter, so that line of escape was out. More than anything, she needed to get away so she could think things through -- she was still feeling adrift in the middle of the lake, and all this blasted 'get string-bound now' argumentation was no help. So she paid a visit to Fairbolt to find out if there were any exchanges available. In fact, there was one -- a patroller from New Elm in southern Raintree was finishing up his time here and needed a companion for the long journey home. Sumac jumped for it; she left with him barely a week later.