The Seedbearing Prince: Part I by DaVaun Sanders Page A

until none were left but one. The
last to be caught would chant the words to start a new family and
they would all scatter again. The game had no end.
    “Peace, if I'm not doing an awful lot of work
the night of Evensong!” The goodwife said loudly. Several farmers
dropped away from the blacksmith to help her.
    “You would think a child could play at a
festival of all places,” one muttered. The first boy had already
disappeared from where he sat. Dayn soon spotted a large head
bobbing through the crowd in a noble attempt to be stealthy.
    Dayn pointed him out to the farmer. “There
should be an easy catch.”
    The farmer laughed. “Don't know why I'm
dickering with this blacksmith for a grindstone, with a melon like
that on hand. Say, you’re Laman's boy, aren't you?” Dayn nodded.
“Thought so. Fine work, lad! You'll make us proud.”
    The Southforte man went off after the boy
before Dayn could ask what he meant. A flash of yellow slipped past
his knees and Dayn lunged after it before Yonas escaped him
again.
    “Watch yourself, you big oaf!”
    The man Dayn just bumped into straightened
himself. The angular cut of his clothes and odd, short-trimmed hair
marked him as a Misthavener. A conical cap lay on the ground, and
Dayn snatched it up before any passersby could crush it.
    “My apologies…Elder,” Dayn added the
honorific when the man's eyes narrowed. “I will be more
careful.”
    “See that you do,” the man snapped, his beady
eyes glittering with anger. He snatched the cap away before Dayn
could return it, and stomped off. “This Fall-cursed, fly speck
village is bad enough without clod-footed farmers and their
downcountry manners to deal with!”
    Dayn's face burned. Several Wia Wells
onlookers―none of them Elders, thankfully―watched the exchange in
silence. They lanced him with warning looks before returning to
their merriment.
    Dayn spotted more Wia Wells boys gathered in
the Speaker’s Turn, an amphitheater of grass and wooden benches.
They stood near the stage full of musicians, who were resting and
scarfing down food. Judging from the sweat darkening the offworld
trader's shirt, it would be a while yet before he finished
unloading. Dayn skirted around the grass where gleeful children
swarmed over tangletoys to join his friends.
    “Ro'Halan! Just who I wanted to see. Nice
shirt.” Esane Ro'Thelen's round face seemed built with a permanent
grin. Of all the boys their age, he might be the only one who
pulled more pranks than Dayn and Joam. Esane made brief
introductions for the boys Dayn did not know, some friendly
Southforte folk and a few aloof Misthaveners.
    “Good Evensong,” Dayn said to all. The boys
returned to clamoring over who would kiss who, and guessing at the
best dancers among the girls. Dayn eyed the musicians tuning while
they ate, and felt an itch in his feet. “I'm sure looking forward
to some dancing.”
    “I hope they can carry a tune, or this will
be the worst Evensong ever,” one of the Misthaven boys said,
sneering openly at the platform.
    “Thade, you don't mean that,” Esane said with
a grimace, offering apologetic looks to the group. Several of the
boys frowned over the comment, but continued in their debate.
    “Who is this lout to you?” Dayn murmured to
Esane.
    “My cousin Thade from Misthaven,” he
whispered back. “My mother is making me show him around the
village.”
    “You better show him some manners while
you're at it. That talk will earn him a beating.”
    “I know! What should I do?”
    Thade had light brown eyes and what Dayn
presumed to be good looks, aside from a pair of unfortunately large
ears. Too dull to notice the dangerous silence of the Wia Wells
boys around him, the Misthavener continued to question the
musicians' skill. Esane looked on, mortified that his charge stood
an insult away from a well-deserved flogging.
    “We could have brought drummers from
Misthaven, at least,” Thade was saying. “The girls will be asleep
by the third