Peter Brett - The Desert Spear

"That witch killed my son!" Garric Fisher cried.

The Painted Man turned, remembering all too clearly the many beatings he 'd suffered at Cobie Fisher's hands as a child. "Your son was a bully, and never worth a coreling's piss," he said, climbing into the saddle behind Renna. She snuggled into him like a child, shivering though the night was warm.

He looked out over the crowd, scanning the terrified faces. He saw his father there, clutching Ilain Tanner, and felt another surge of anger. Nothing had changed, if Jeph could stand there and watch Renna staked, knowing what they both did of Harl.

"I came to teach you all to fight the corelings!" he called to the crowd. "But I see Tibbet's Brook still raises only cowards and fools!"

He turned to ride off, but something gnawed at him, and he looked back, giving the crowd one last glance, one last chance.

"Any man, woman, or child who would rather kill corelings than feed them their neighbor, meet me here at dusk tomorrow," he shouted. "If not, corespawn the lot of you!"

Jeph met his eyes then, though there was no recognition in his gaze. "Renna Tanner is my kin!" he called, drawing stares from all around. "Succor at my farm up the north road! Renna knows the way!" The Painted Man needed no directions to Jeph's farm, but he nodded, turning Twilight Dancer north.

"Here now, you can't go shelterin' that murderin' witch, Jeph Bales!" Raddock Lawry called. "The council voted!"

"Then it's best I ent on the council," Jeph shouted back, " 'cause the night as my witness, you or anyone else comes to my farm looking for her, there 'll be more bloodshed, and to spare!"

Raddock opened his mouth to reply, but there was an angry murmur from the crowd, and he looked around uneasily, unsure whose side they were on.

The Painted Man grunted and kicked Twilight Dancer into a gallop out of the Square and headed up the road to his father's farm. Renna was silent the whole ride, resting against him and clinging to his robes. A few demons came at them, but Twilight Dancer dodged and put on speed, quickly leaving them behind. Twice, the stallion simply trampled demons into the road without slowing.

His father's farm was much as he remembered it, though an addition had been built onto the back of the house. Some of the wardposts in the barley field were still those he had carved himself, coated in fresh lacquer many times over the years. Jeph maintained his wards religiously, a habit he had instilled in his son that had saved Arlen's life many times since and defined much of the course of his life.

Drawn to the house, a great many corelings were in the yard, testing the wards. The Painted Man shot two to clear the way to the barn, and once safe behind its wards, he stabled Twilight Dancer and stood in the doorway, picking off the others one by one with his bow. Soon the way was clear, and he escorted Renna to the house proper.

The Painted Man was shaking as he deposited Renna in the common room and lit the lanterns, kindling a fire in the hearth. Everything about the place was so familiar, it made his heart ache. It even smelled the same. He half expected his mother to come out of the cold room and tell him to wash for supper. An old cat came and sniffed him, purring and rubbing against his leg. He picked it up and scratched its ears, remembering how its mother had birthed the litter behind the broken cart in the barn.

He went over to Renna who was sitting right where he left her, playing with her skirts. "You all right?"

Renna shook her head, eyes on the floor. "Ent sure I'll ever be all right again."

"Know the feeling," the Painted Man said. "You hungry?"

When she nodded, he set the cat down and went to the cold room, unsurprised to find it laid out just as he recalled. There was smoked ham and fresh vegetables, and bread in the bread box. He took everything to the chopping block and filled a pot from the water barrel. He soon had a stew simmering over the fire, filling the house with its aroma. He opened the cupboard and set bowls and spoons at the table. He went to fetch Renna and found the cat curled in her lap. She stroked it absently as she wept, her teardrops matting its fur.

Renna said little as they ate, and he found himself staring at her, wishing he knew what words could put life back in her eyes.

"Good stew?" he asked as she tore bread to soak the last of it from her bowl. "There's more if you like." She nodded, and he fetched the pot from the fire, ladling her another helping.

"Thanks," she said. "Feel like I haven't et in days. Haven't, really. Ent been hungry."

"You had a rough week, I imagine," he said.

She met his eyes finally. "You killed those demons. Killed 'em with your bare hands."

The Painted Man nodded.

"Why?" she asked.

The Painted Man raised a brow at her. "Need a reason to kill demons?"

"But they told you what I done," Renna said. "And they's right. None a this would've happened, I'd just minded my da. Maybe I deserve to be cored." She looked away again, but the Painted Man grabbed her shoulders roughly and forced her to turn and face him. His eyes were blazing, and hers went wide with fright.

"You listen to me, Renna Tanner," he said. "Your da din't deserve mindin'. I know what he done to you and your sisters, out on that farm. That kind of man ent worth no mind at all. It's him that brought these troubles about, not you. Ent never been you."

When she just stared at him, he shook her. "You hear me?!"

For a moment more Renna just stared, and then slowly she nodded. And then again, more decisively. "Wasn't right, what he done to us."

"That's undersaid," the Painted Man grunted.

"And poor Cobie never done nothing wrong," Renna went on, the words coming faster. She looked up at him. "He wan't no bully, least not that I ever saw. All he ever wanted was to marry me proper, and Da…"

"Killed him for it," the Painted Man finished, when she hesitated.

She nodded. "Man like that ent much more than a demon himself."

He nodded. "And you got to fight demons, Renna Tanner. It's the only way to live with your head held high. Can't trust no one else to do what you won't do for yourself." Renna was curled up by the fire, fast asleep, when Jeph's cart pulled into the yard early the next morning. The Painted Man watched through the window, swallowing a lump in his throat as four children hopped down from the back of the cart, brothers and sisters he had never known.

They were followed off the cart by tough old Norine and Ilain. The Painted Man had shined on Ilain when he was young, and she was still beautiful now, but seeing his father help her down from the front seat the way he used to do for his mother gnawed at him. He didn't blame Ilain for wanting to escape Harl-not anymore, at least-but that made it no easier to see how quickly she had taken his mother's place.

He looked up the road, but there was no sign of anyone else following. He opened the door and went out to meet them. The children pulled up short, staring, as he walked over to Jeph.

"She's asleep by the fire," he said.

Jeph nodded. "Thank you, Messenger."

"I'll hold you to your promise to protect her from any looking to do her harm," the Painted Man said, pointing a tattooed finger at his father.

Jeph swallowed, but he nodded. "I will."

The Painted Man's eyes narrowed. Jeph was full of sincere-sounding promises, ones he meant full well, yet when the time came for action he was apt to fail.

But with no other option, the Painted Man nodded. "I'll fetch my horse and go."

"Wait, please," Jeph said, catching his arm. The Painted Man looked at the offending hand, and Jeph snatched it quickly away.

"I just…" He hesitated. "We 'd like it if you stayed for breakfast. Least we can do. Whole town might be at the square come evening, like you said. You can take your ease here, till then."