Servant of a Dark God by John Brown Page A

laughed with Da in the yard. Others had eaten at their table. Many of the villagers of Plum had drunk ale and been entertained by Legs singing his ditties. All had accepted the water he drew and delivered to the villagers as they worked the fields, him leading his goat and cart, feeling the road as he went with his stick. But those smiling faces were gone. They were replaced by faces grim and fixed on their purpose.
    Mother grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward the house.
    “I’ve drunk and danced with you,” said Da. “I’ve shoed your horses. I probably fashioned most of those spearheads. You’ve nothing to fear from me. My heart is as clean and fresh as well water and you all know it.”
    “What we know is that all the evidence points here,” said the Crab. “And now we’ve come to the end of our discussion. If we were uplanders bent on murder, you would already be dead. I’ve done more than give you the benefit of the doubt. This is the last chance I’m giving you. Pick up the collar and irons.”
    “You will kill us and learn nothing.”
    “Zun,” said Barg, using the title of honor meant for warriors who were equals. “Just pick up the cursed irons.”
    Da did not move.
    “Bowmen,” said the Crab. “Ready yourselves.”
    The bowmen drew their strings to their cheeks.
    Sugar could not believe her eyes.
    She and Mother now stood at the doorway to the house.
    Da looked back at Mother. Some communication passed between them that Sugar could not decipher.
    The Crab raised his arm to signal the bowmen. “Let all here witness that Sparrow, smith of the village of Plum, has refused an ordeal.”
    “Stop!” said Da. “I’ll take your wretched collar and irons. But you know only Divines can conduct hunts. The only reason you haven’t killed us already is so that you can avoid the fines levied on mobs like this. Let it be known that on this day the laws of the Glory of Mokad have been set aside. Your blatant disobedience will be made known. And your own Divines will come to collect the debt of blood.”
    The Divines would come. And they would punish these men, for the laws on this matter were clear and ruthlessly enforced: no man could take upon himself even the slightest part of the honor of a Divine. But the Divines would come too late.
    Da walked forward and picked up the collar and irons.
    They would almost surely use water for the ordeal. And Sugar’s family would drown. She’d once touched the cold, bloated body of a boy who had drowned. She envisioned Legs as that boy, and panic ran through her.
    Da examined the irons and said, “It looks like your smithing is as bad as your judgment. I’ll need a hammer to assemble these pieces properly.”
    “Those pieces are just fine,” said the district lord.
    Mother turned to Legs and in a quiet voice said, “Get the shutters. Slowly now.”
    Da began walking toward Mother and the open doorway.
    Legs closed the shutters on the front of the house then moved to the back.
    The district lord called out, “Stop!”
    Da stopped only a few paces from the front step and looked back.
    “Put on the collar,” said the district lord.
    “Of course,” said Da. He dropped the irons in the grass. And then he dashed toward the house.
    At that moment Mother moved back from the door and pulled Sugar in with her.
    A cry of alarm rose from the soldiers.
    “Shoot him!” commanded the Crab. “Shoot!”

THE COURAGE OF WOMEN

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    t the moment of the Crab’s command, the bowmen released their arrows, and Sugar saw the arrows fly.
    Da took three, four strides. He leapt to the porch. Then an arrow struck him in the back below the ribs. Another flew like an angry insect into the house above her head and struck the wall behind her.
    “Sparrow!” Mother called.
    Da’s momentum carried him into the house, and Mother slammed the door shut.
    More arrows struck the door. A man cried out, “I got him! I got him!”
    Midnight and Sky had not followed Da. They barked