Nettle & Bone(45)

“A great many of them,” rumbled Fenris. “They are either excellent organizers or terrible zealots. There doesn’t seem to be a great deal of middle ground.”

“Right.” Agnes nodded. “All right. Well, I see there’s no hope for it. I’ll come with you, then, shall I?”

Marra stared at her.

“Kania’s my niece,” said Agnes. “And her child is my grand-niece. Or grand-nephew.” She rubbed her face. “Or perhaps it’s my great-grand-niece and my great-grand-nephew. I can never keep track. But anyway, they’re in danger, so I’ll come.”

No, thought Marra. No, this is absurd. She’ll die.

… Haven’t you been saying this is a fool’s errand and you’ll all die?

Yes, but I didn’t mean … not like …

“Good,” said the dust-wife. “I’m glad to have a godmother along. There’s magic and then there’s magic and there’s the dead and then the living and I’m only skilled with one.”

“I don’t know how skilled I am,” said Agnes. “But I’ll do my very best to help.”

“But…” Marra felt as if she should put a stop to this, but she didn’t know how to say, Agnes is useless—can’t you see?

As useless as a princess who only knows embroidery?

She stared into her tea.

Marra knew just how useless she felt, and yet somehow she had pulled together the dust-wife and Bonedog and Fenris. Perhaps … perhaps this was more of the same. Her hand crept to the carved grackle feather. Perhaps the saint was leading her.

“All right,” she said, not looking at Agnes. “All right. Thank you.”

“Five of us,” said Fenris, looking over at the others approvingly. Marra leaned down and scratched Bonedog’s spine until his jaws clattered with pleasure. “Five is a fist. Five is a hand on the enemy’s throat.”

“I suppose that makes us each fingers,” said Marra. She curled her own around Bonedog’s spine, taking comfort from the hard ridges. “You’re the thumb,” she told the dog. Bonedog wagged his tail.



* * *



They slept that night on the godmother’s floor, near the hearth. Agnes took down blankets and so Fenris had his own and they no longer had to sleep back-to-back.

It should have been a relief. She had her own blankets again and no longer had to worry about keeping him awake with her fidgeting.

Of course, I am contrary as ever and nothing goes easily.

Her back felt cold and unprotected. She felt as if something might grab her. Her mind conjured all manner of demons in the dark: the drowned boy, the Toothdancer, all reaching out to grab her.

You are being ridiculous. You are much safer in here than you ever were on the road. And you shared a blanket less than a fortnight. You haven’t had time to get used to sleeping next to someone. This is absurd.

Anyway, he’s …

He’s what?

Bonedog rolled over on his back, wired paws paddling at the air. She could hear the even sound of Fenris breathing.

Grow up, Marra. You’re trying to save your sister and kill a monster. This is not the time to feel anything else. You’re too busy.

There was a large basket to one side of the hearth, full of yarn. Marra shifted around, scooting the blankets until she could set her back to it. Immediately she felt better.

There. You see? It’s not him after all. It’s just being nervous. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s only a companion on the way. That’s all …

The relief that she felt was too great to be anything but a lie, but Marra took comfort from it nonetheless and drifted to sleep, listening to the sound of Fenris breathe.





Chapter 12


Intellectually, Marra knew that there had never been any chance of getting an early start. And I shouldn’t worry about it. One more day, more or less, is not going to change anything. If I wanted to be done sooner, I should have started sooner.

Nevertheless, she felt a pang as the sun crawled up the sky and noon passed with no sign of getting on the road at all. Agnes had cooked an enormous breakfast to use up all the food in the larder, then had packed, unpacked, repacked, and was about to start on a third round when Fenris gently stepped in and offered to carry the extra.

“Are you certain?” asked Agnes, blinking up at him.

“Yes, of course. Though I will beg a blanket or two from you as well, for the road.” Which sent Agnes off in a flutter to locate blankets for him, leaving her gear strewn across the kitchen table.

“She seems … easily distracted,” said Marra, determined not to say anything harsher after she had made such an ass of herself the day before.

The dust-wife also looked distracted, gazing after Agnes. A line had formed between her eyes.

“Something wrong?” Marra asked.

“Mmmm.” The dust-wife shook her head. “Wrong, no. Interesting. I’ll sort it out, I expect.”

Marra wrinkled her nose. “Interesting interesting, or dangerous interesting?”

The dust-wife peered down the hall. Agnes’s voice floated back to them. “Oh dear, this one has a hole in it…”

“Interesting,” said the dust-wife finally. “I can’t tell you more than that yet.”