Chapter 295: The Other Household

Hadrin walked with them as far as the split ash.

He carried a pruning hook and a bag of white stones, combining their departure with work along the station road. At the last marker, he pointed toward a narrow track climbing the slope.

"Stay above the water until you reach the ash with two crowns. The ridge path begins behind it."

Rod repeated the directions. Hadrin nodded and turned back to his work.

The party climbed in single file. Dirk stopped frequently to study the ground, leaving enough space between himself and Rod to inspect each bend. Their packs held food for several days, bedding, and the equipment they might need if the visit became more than a conversation.

The forest changed as they gained height. Low plants gave way to ferns, and pale fungi grew in shelves along fallen trunks. A stream sounded below them. Once, Rod saw the stone curve of a bridge between branches, but the angle disappeared before he could judge its distance.

Dirk noticed him looking.

"Old crossing?"

"Probably."

They stayed on the ridge.

Near midday, they reached the rock shelter Hadrin had marked. White berries hung over its entrance. Nessa brushed a cluster aside with a fallen stick rather than her hand, and the party ate beneath the overhang.

Dain inspected the soot on the ceiling. "People use this regularly."

"Used to." Dirk said.

He showed them the dry leaf layer over the old fire pit. No fresh ash lay beneath it. The ridge path could still be followed, but its users had become fewer since the crossing closed.

Lana poured water into a shallow cup for Midnight. The familiar drank, then watched a line of small beetles carrying pieces of leaf toward a crack in the stone.

Rod checked their progress against Hadrin’s sketch. They had covered less distance than he expected. Steep ground and careful route finding consumed time without making them feel as though they had stopped.

"We camp before approaching the house if we lose the light." he said.

Nobody objected. Arriving tired at an unfamiliar gate would make a poor beginning.

They reached the two-crowned ash in the middle of the afternoon. A narrow strip of bark had been removed from one side and replaced with a woven panel. Its pattern showed reeds bending over water.

Dirk examined the base. "Fresh tracks. Carts, but small ones."

The route broadened beyond the ash. Channels carried water down the slope into beds of blue-green reeds. Workers moved between them on raised planks. Their tools had long handles and crescent blades. Bundles of cut reeds lay on frames above the wet ground.

One worker saw the party and sounded a short wooden whistle.

Rod stopped where the path met the first plank bridge.

Three armed fey emerged from the trees behind the reed beds. The tallest had bark-brown skin, broad shoulders, and pale leaves woven through his hair. Two others followed with spears and small round shields.

The leader looked at Rod’s covered axe.

"Visitors?"

"From White Stone." Rod replied.

He held Hadrin’s token where it could be seen.

The fey’s expression changed. He did not reach for it.

"What does Hadrin want?"

"His bell. We came to speak with Corren."

"Then speak with him before trying to take anything."

"That is the plan."

The patrol leader introduced himself as Senn. He asked them to keep their weapons covered while crossing the household’s gardens. Dain lowered his shield to his side. Dirk unstrung his bow only after Senn explained that the house stood nearby and they would remain under escort.

The workers returned to their cutting. A young fey carrying a reed bundle paused to stare at Midnight, then hurried after an older worker when called.

Reedbank House occupied several buildings arranged around a long shallow pool. The main hall had a roof of layered woven panels held beneath heavy wooden ribs. Workshops opened toward the water. Beyond them, a kiln gave off a thin stream of smoke.

Rod saw no walls. The gardens, narrow bridges, and wet channels would make a charge difficult enough.

Senn led them past a cart being unloaded. Two workers lifted a ceramic jar together, settling it onto folded reeds. A third checked a crack near its rim and marked it with charcoal.

The household looked busy. It also looked crowded with goods waiting to leave.

Stacked panels filled one workshop. Sacks of pale clay occupied another. A covered wagon stood beneath a tree with a broken wheel removed. Its replacement waited beside it, unfinished.

Nessa slowed when she saw a man seated outside the hall with his leg raised on a stool. His shin had been splinted. Purple bruising showed above the binding.

Senn noticed.

"Crossing." he said.

The injured man raised his head. "Who is asking?"

"Visitors from Hadrin."

The man’s mouth tightened.

Rod kept walking. They would have a chance to ask him later if Corren allowed it.

Inside the hall, daylight entered through high woven screens. A long table held baskets, measuring rods, and a half-finished drawing of a bridge footing. At its far end, a broad satyr stood arguing with a potter over a row of jars.

"Then glaze them twice next time." he said.

"Then pay for two firings." the potter replied.

Corren looked toward the arriving patrol, saw Hadrin’s token, and set the jar down. ℯ

"We will finish this after supper."

The potter gathered his notes without appearing satisfied. Senn introduced the party and explained why they had come. Corren dismissed the patrol to its work, then pulled two baskets from the table to make room.

"Sit. You have walked the ridge, unless the old keeper has suddenly found a road he forgot to mention."

Rod accepted the seat. "We came by the ridge."

"Then you have already paid part of the price of his stubbornness."

Corren sent for water and bread. He had shorter horns than Hadrin, thicker at the base, and a scar across one hand. His coat smelled faintly of kiln smoke. Rod noticed clay under his fingernails.

"Do you hold the waybell?" Rod asked.

Corren stood, crossed to a cabinet, and opened its doors.

The bell rested on a folded cloth. Bronze, three silver bands, rowan handle. A small dent showed above the lowest band. ⅇℯ𝚕.

He carried it to the table.

Lana leaned forward without touching it. The silver bands had been engraved with tiny branching lines. Wear darkened the handle where Hadrin’s hand must have held it for years.

"You can see it is safe." Corren said.

"Would you sell it?" Rod asked.

"No."

"Would you name terms for returning it?"

Corren looked from Rod to the token.

"Did Hadrin give you authority to agree?"

"To bring a proposal."

"Of course."

The satyr sat again. A servant brought bread, a dish of preserved fruit, and water in glazed cups. Corren waited until the tray was set down before continuing.

"I won this under terms Hadrin named. He chose the paths, the tokens, and the day. I chose to take a longer route because the lower soil was wet. He took his familiar shortcut and spent three hours finding where it had gone."

"He admitted losing." Rod said.

"Did he admit why we wagered?"

"He said your carts damaged the crossing."

"They did."

The plain admission surprised Rod less than the next part.

"Our carts helped wear it out over several seasons. His supply carts used it too. We offered workers and material to rebuild the lower footing. He wanted us to arrive on a particular morning. Rain flooded our reed beds that night. We sent word and came two days later."

"He said there were disagreements about the work."

"There were. He wanted another timber footing where the last had sunk. Our potters and builders proposed stone above the soft bed, with a wider spread beneath the load."

Corren pulled the unfinished drawing closer.

"He would not let us try it. We would not spend a month replacing something we expected to fail again."

Dain examined the sketch. He did not pretend to know enough to settle the construction question, but he recognized the worn curve drawn beside the old bearing.

"He still has one of the bridge shoes." he said.

"Then ask how many years it served before he closed the road."

Rod placed his hands flat on the table.

"We can take back your terms. We cannot decide which footing is right from two drawings."

Corren studied him, then nodded once.

"Good. I have heard enough confident decisions from people who never stood beneath the bridge."

Nessa asked whether Corren would allow her to speak to the man with the splinted leg. He agreed, and a servant brought the injured worker inside. His name was Ferris. He settled carefully on a bench, keeping the damaged leg straight.

"How did it happen?" she asked.

"I was behind the cart. The beast struck the front axle. The cart turned, and the side caught me against a stone."

"Did it pursue you?"

"As far as the alder. Senn dragged me through the roots. It could not fit."

Nessa asked permission before touching the splint. She checked the swelling and circulation, then adjusted a binding that had tightened against the skin. Ferris watched her hands without interrupting.

"Keep it raised. This needs loosening when the swelling changes." she said.

Corren called for someone to remember the instruction. Nessa asked whether Ferris had seen the beast attack anyone beyond the crossing.

"No. We thought that meant we could chase it uphill."

His expression told Rod enough about how that attempt ended. Ferris described a thick ridge of thorns on the animal’s shoulders and a low movement before it charged. Its body had been half concealed by brush until the cart began breaking apart.

Dirk wrote the details down. Rod had not agreed to fight the creature, but they would gain nothing by refusing information freely offered.

The bell remained between them while the meal cooled. Through the hall’s open side, Rod could see workers carrying another stack of woven panels into a storehouse already full.

Corren followed his glance.

"We can use the ridge with small loads. The town wants our panels before the wet season. Every day that crossing stays closed, another order becomes harder to deliver."

"And keeping the bell helps?" Nessa asked.

The satyr looked at her for a long moment.

"It was supposed to."

He lifted the bell carefully and returned it to the cloth.

Before answering, Rod asked whether anyone was still waiting on the old road. Corren assured him that both failed groups had returned and that patrols kept others away from the approaches. Senn had placed warning marks at the ridge forks.

That removed one possible urgency. They could take the evening to listen without leaving someone trapped below. Rod accepted the offered rooms, and Nessa asked for clean water so she could finish checking Ferris’s binding before supper. Corren sent a worker to show them where their packs could be stored.

"Stay tonight. Speak to the people who went to the crossing. Tomorrow you can decide what you think Hadrin should hear."