A Small Kindness

Ravik passed the upper pool without stopping and followed the channel through the trees. Each hurried step jarred his shoulder.

At the crossing where he had met Volken and Neli, he turned to look back.

The path was empty. Trees hid the old works.

He listened, but his breathing was loud in his ears.

Volken might already have the spades ready.

He went on.

By the gardens, he had slowed to a walk. Twice he stopped against a fence post to let the pain settle. Mud was drying on his good hand. When he tried to rub it away, the movement pulled at his shoulder.

Volken was outside his house, sharpening a spade beside the yard gate. A second spade and a coil of rope lay nearby.

He looked up and put the sharpening stone down.

“What happened?”

“Don’t go back out there.”

Volken stood.

“What did you find?”

Ravik stopped outside the gate.

“Something in the outlet. I thought it was roots. It caught the rake and pulled me against the corner.”

His mentor looked at his empty hands.

“I let go. It broke the handle.”

“Did it get hold of you?”

“Just the rake.”

Volken came closer and folded the torn sleeve back from the cut.

“Can you move the arm?”

Ravik lifted it, then lowered it with a wince.

“Hurts.”

“I can see that. Hold it still.”

Volken went inside for a clean strip of cloth. Ravik waited against the gate, watching the lane toward the fields.

When his mentor returned, Ravik held his arm against his side while Volken bound the cut.

“What did you see?”

“Fingers round the shaft. An eye. Teeth when it took the rake.”

“How big?”

“I couldn’t see. Most of it was behind the reeds.”

Volken paused over the knot.

“Did you lift the slab?”

“No. It hit it from inside. The whole thing moved.”

“Then nobody goes down there until we’ve had help.”

Ravik nodded.

Volken finished tying the cloth and looked toward the spades.

“What about the water?”

“Roots and dead reeds are packed under the slab. There’s muck behind them, farther in than I could reach. Hardly any water’s getting through.”

“That’s where it’s being held?”

“The bars are clear. The flush barely moved the water.”

“We’ll need tools to break it up.”

“And people to shift it. We can’t work there with that thing in the opening.”

“No.”

Ravik rested his good forearm on the gate.

“The taxman’s guards could look at it.”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“I know.”

“He won’t want them both leaving him.”

“Then he can come and look too. He wants the grain. We need the water down before we can bring it in.”

Volken rubbed a fleck of rust from the spade blade.

“Tell him the outlet’s blocked. Make sure he understands the entrance is clear, and we can’t reach the jam with that thing there.”

“I’ll show him.”

His mentor picked up the coil of rope.

“I could come as far as the pool.”

“Stay here for now.”

Volken looked up.

“You nearly put your back out the last time we cleared the outlet,” Ravik said. “There’s no digging to do until they’ve dealt with whatever’s in there.”

“I can still walk to the water.”

“I know you can. Let me fetch them first. See who can help us afterward.”

Volken held his gaze for a moment, then set the rope down.

“I’ll speak to Narev’s father.”

“Thank you.”

“And you tell those guards exactly what you saw.”

“I will.”

Volken gathered the spades and carried them inside the gate. Ravik waited until he had set them down, then turned toward the storehouse.

Ravik reached the grain yard and crossed the lane to the storehouse. The collector was still at his table beneath the porch, beside the open doorway. Most of the sacks that had stood outside were now stacked within.

The Moufarn was short and solidly built, with heavy horns curling close beside a broad, clean-shaven face. His dark coat was buttoned to the throat, but he had turned his cuffs back from an ink-marked wrist.

The guard with the spear stood beside the porch steps, watching the lane. A short gray beard lined his lean jaw. The other guard leaned against the doorframe, his rounder face still creased from a smile. Both Sivarn were taller than the collector, with two pairs of horns apiece and shoulders that filled their worn coats.

Ruvani stood before the table, one hand resting on an empty basket.

“Four sacks from our yard,” she said. “That’s what we can bring.”

“And there’s a fifth due.”

“It’s still standing in water.”

“Your father said he hoped to bring it this morning.”

“He thought the field would have drained.”

The collector followed the entry with his finger.

“Four received. One still owing. Tell your brother to bring his cutting tally when he’s finished. I need to know what he can still bring in.”

Ruvani nodded. As she turned toward the steps, she saw Ravik.

“Did you find—”

Her eyes dropped to his sleeve.

“What happened?”

“I need to speak to them first.”

She moved aside, setting her basket against the porch rail.

The guard at the doorway pulled a stool away from the wall with his foot and nudged it toward the end of the table.

“Sit down.”

“I’m all right.”

“Then you’ll be all right sitting.”

Ravik sat. The guard filled a cup from the water jar beside the door and passed it to his good hand.

“What do you need?” the collector asked.

“The outlet beyond the old works is choked with roots, dead reeds and muck. Volken’s finding people to clear it, but there’s something caught beneath the slab. We need your guards.”

The spearman turned from the lane.

“What sort of animal?”

“I don’t know. It caught the rake. I saw fingers round the shaft, and an eye behind the reeds. Then teeth when it broke the handle.”

The guard looked at the cloth around his arm.

“Did it bite you?”

“No. It pulled me against the stone before I let go.”

“Did it come out after you?”

Ravik hesitated.

“It hit the slab. I was on the steps when I heard it hit again.”

“Did you look back?”

“No.”

The spearman glanced toward the lane leading out to the fields.

“How do you raise the slab?”

“There’s a winch on the upper terrace, across from the stairs.”

“Leave that alone until we’ve had a look.”

Ravik nodded.

The collector set his pen down.

“Where is it blocked? In the ditch by the fields?”

“At the outlet, on the far side of the ridge.”

“I’ve seen the ditch at the crossing. Where does that water go?”

“All the field ditches empty into it. It runs to the old works, then through a stone passage beneath the ridge.”

Ravik shifted the cup in his hand.

“There’s a stone slab across the mouth on the other side. Water comes through it and beneath it, then follows a channel to the lake. Dead stems are wedged beneath the slab, with muck packed behind them.”

“And the water’s backed up through the passage?”

“Yes. We cleared the bars at our end. Then I tried the flush gate. That usually washes loose muck through, but today the water hardly moved.”

The collector looked across the lane toward the grain yard.

“So clearing your end won’t lower the fields.”

“We need to clear the outlet. There’s more packed behind the stems than I could pull out.”

“Where’s the animal?” the spearman asked.

“Among those stems. I was trying to rake them out when it caught the handle.”

“Would getting it out let the water through?” the collector asked.

“Some. There’s a mass of dead stems and muck behind it. We’d still need people to pull that out.”

The spearman rested the butt of his spear on the stone.

“How close would they have to work?”

“At the mouth, where I was standing. They can’t get at the jam with that thing there.”

“Can you tell how much is behind it?” the guard by the doorway asked.

“Not from where I stood. We’ll need to lift the slab and see. But nobody can start while that thing’s there.”

The collector drew the book closer.

“If the blocked outlet has kept them from cutting, I’ll recommend a reduction. Have them bring the cutting tally. I’ll send it with my report and leave them a copy.”

“You can’t take the same amount from them,” Ravik said.

“That’s why I need the tally and a record of the damage.”

“We asked the Valley stores for grain after the sowing failed.”

The collector’s hand stopped on the page.

“Was there an answer?”

“That they’d received the request.”

“Who has the reply?”

“Volken.”

“Bring it when we get back. I’ll send a copy with the report and ask what’s happened to the advance.”

“They needed it before the cutting. They’ve been borrowing meal while they waited.”

The collector looked toward Ruvani. She stood beside the rail, turning the basket’s handle between her fingers.

“You should have had a decision by now,” he said.

“When will we get one?”

“I don’t know. I can take the evidence back myself. I can’t promise when they’ll release grain.”

Ravik looked down at the water in his cup.

“What if they can’t cut enough for the fifth sack?”

“I can hold what’s owing while we inspect. A longer delay needs approval.”

“And if approval hasn’t come?”

“Then the amount is still due.”

“Even if they have to take it from their meal?”

The collector looked at him.

“Yes.”

Through the open storehouse door, Ravik could see the sacks stacked against the wall.

“When does that go?”

“Tomorrow morning. We’re escorting the carts back.”

“Let them have some of it.”

“I can ask for grain to be advanced from the stores. I haven’t authority to give this back.”

“It came out of their houses.”

“I know.”

Ravik looked at the nearest sack. He had held its mouth open that morning while Narev brushed the last kernels into it.

The collector drew a clean sheet from beneath his book.

“I’ll record how little they have left, as well as the damage. Let me see the outlet.”

“You’ve seen the fields.”

“I’ve seen standing water. I need to see what’s blocking the drain before I put my name to the report.”

Ravik’s fingers tightened around the cup.

The grain was still close enough to touch. Tomorrow it would be going up the road while they waited for another answer.

“Then let Orven go and look,” the guard by the door said.

The spearman shook his head.

“Both of us, Dask. If I’m looking into a hole, I want someone watching it while I move.”

“You can’t both leave me here,” the collector said.

“Then we wait until you’ve finished.”

A cart creaked past in the lane. Ravik watched its wheel roll beyond the steps, then set his cup on the table.

“Come with us.”

The collector looked at him.

“You want to see why the water won’t go down. I’ll show you where it’s blocked.”

“Can I see it without going near the animal?”

“From the steps. You can see the stems packed beneath the slab before you reach the landing.”

Orven considered that.

“We look first. No one starts clearing because we’ve arrived.”

“All right.”

“And we’re not promising we can clear it today.”

Ravik nodded.

The collector closed his book.

“The uncollected grain can wait until we’ve looked.”

Ruvani lifted her basket.

“Shall I tell Ma?”

“Tell her I haven’t agreed to reduce anything.”

“I’ll tell her you’re going to look.”

The collector paused, his hand still on the book.

“Yes. Tell her that.”

Ruvani went down the steps and crossed the lane toward the grain yard.

Dask reached inside the doorway for his shield.

“Volken isn’t bringing people out behind us, is he?”

“He’s finding helpers. He’ll wait.”

“Good. I don’t want someone peering over my shoulder to see what I’ve found.”

He slipped his arm through the straps and pulled one tight.

The collector put his book and the clean sheet into his satchel. He checked the fastening, then stood.

Ravik got up. Dask returned the cup to the water jar.

“You can point it out from the steps,” he told Ravik. “We’ll go down.”

Orven moved aside to let the collector reach the storehouse door. The collector looked along the stacked sacks, then pulled it closed.

He fitted a lock through the iron hasp, turned the key and tried the door. He gave the lock a second pull.

It held.

He put the key in his inner coat pocket and buttoned it shut.

Ravik watched him do it.

The collector took up his walking stick.

“Show us.”

Beyond the last gardens, Dask moved up beside Ravik.

Behind them, the collector picked his way around the soft patches, placing his stick before each step. Orven walked at his other side.

“If that arm starts troubling you, say so,” Dask said.

“It’s all right.”

“You keep holding it.”

Ravik took his hand away from his shoulder.

“Let us look first,” Orven said from beside the collector. “You remember the last collection.”

Ravik glanced back.

“The count was wrong.”

“It was,” the collector said. “I had the book open when you told the carters I’d released that sack.”

“And you did release it.”

“After I checked.”

“You’d already loosened the load,” Orven said. “It shifted. There was a man behind that cart.”

Ravik’s jaw tightened.

“I helped put it back.”

“You did,” Dask said. “And you went to see if the fellow was hurt.”

“He wasn’t.”

“No. But he had a fright.”

For a few steps, Ravik watched the path beneath his feet.

The collector moved his stick around a soft patch.

“I remember you stayed until the load was right,” he said. “Now show us what you’ve found today.”

They passed Narev’s lower strip. Grain leaned across the ditch, its bent heads close enough to the water that Ravik could see their reflections.

The collector stopped.

“This is part of theirs?”

“Yes.”

“Can they still cut it?”

“Some, perhaps. Volken found spoiled heads along this edge. We won’t know what’s left until we can get among it.”

The collector looked along the strip toward the firmer ground. He lifted a fallen stem with his stick, then let it settle again.

“I’ll look at it properly on the way back.”

Ravik went on. After a moment, the others followed.

At the upper pool, Dask stopped beside Volken’s heap of reeds. Beyond the cleared bars, water still covered the broad steps leading beneath the building.

“And this hasn’t gone down since you left?”

Ravik crouched beside the pool and felt for the submerged notch.

“Not enough.”

Orven watched the loose stems barely moving against the bars.

“Show us the other side.”

Ravik led them along the outside path around the rocky shoulder.

The wooden winch stood at the edge of the upper terrace. Its rope rose to a pulley above the outlet, then dropped through an opening in the crown of the stone slab below. Water dribbled from two of the four round holes in its face. More seeped through the roots beneath its lower edge.

They followed the dry walk behind the winch to the stairs at the far end of the terrace. Two flights led down, with a broad landing between them. At the bottom, a stone work pad lay to the left of the outlet. Water shone along its outer edge.

Ravik stopped at the stair head. Across the terrace, beyond the winch, the path curved out of sight around the rock. It was the way they had come.

The collector came to stand behind Ravik.

“There?”

Ravik pointed to the tangle beneath the slab. A thin trickle ran from it.

“There. The stems are wedged beneath the cover, with muck packed behind them. That’s what I was trying to pull out.”

The collector leaned forward, watching the water seep through the tangle.

“That will go in the report.”

“Then leave the grain here.”

The collector turned toward him.

“Now I can report the damage and ask for a reduction. I still can’t grant one.”

Ravik pointed back toward the fields.

“Some of that’s already gone. Getting the water down won’t bring it back.”

“I understand.”

“You’re still taking what they have.”

“Yes,” the collector said sharply. “And saying it again will not give me the right to hand it back.”

Ravik’s arm had begun to shake. He pressed it against his side.

“Then what did we bring you here for?”

The collector’s mouth tightened.

“To see the damage. To put my name to it. My men are here to help make it safe for yours to work.”

He glanced toward the outlet.

“Don’t tell me we’ve come for nothing.”

Water trickled from under the slab below them.

“When you come again,” Ravik said, “will you add what they couldn’t pay this time?”

“What remains owing stays owing until the assessment is changed.”

“Next year’s grain, and this year’s shortfall.”

“That is why I’m asking for a reduction.”

Ravik looked down the channel.

“Narev’s family have already brought four sacks.”

“They have a receipt for those four. Tell them to keep it. The fifth is still due.”

“Then keep the four marked paid. Give them enough back to eat as the loan we asked for. Let them repay it over several harvests.”

“I can put those terms in the request.”

“Can they do that?”

“They can consider it. I can’t promise what they’ll agree.”

“And tomorrow you’ll still leave with the grain.”

The collector took a breath.

“Yes.”

For a moment he stood with both hands resting on his stick.

“Bring me the reply Volken received. The cutting tally as well. I’ll take them with my report.”

Ravik stared at the choked outlet.

He could take those things to Valley himself. Find the people who could change the assessment and stay until someone heard him.

But the grain would leave before he had an answer.

Orven stepped past the collector to the stairs.

“Wait here until we’ve looked.”

He went down first, watching the pad and the dark mouth beside it. Dask followed with his shield toward the outlet.

Orven tested the last tread before putting his weight on it. Dask scraped his boot across the stone beside the wall.

“Keep off that green edge.”

He looked up toward the collector.

“You can come as far as the middle landing. Stay there.”

The collector went down with one hand on the wall and his stick in the other. Ravik followed him to the landing.

Below them, Orven lowered his spear beside Dask’s shield and worked the flat of the blade beneath the loose stems. A piece of the rake came free. It turned in the water and caught against the pad.

“That yours?” Dask asked.

Ravik nodded.

Orven drew another clump aside.

A pale hand lay on the sill. Its fingers opened, then curled against the wet stone. The forearm disappeared beneath the slab.

It tried to pull back. A thickened joint behind the hand caught against the stone’s outer face. The arm drew taut, then slackened. Somewhere behind the cover, something scraped and struck the passage wall.

Dask brought his shield forward. Orven kept the spear between himself and the hand.

“Where were you standing?” he asked.

“There. By the left corner.”

Ravik’s shoulder tightened as he pointed.

“The stone’s holding its arm,” Orven said. He glanced up at the rope. “Can you lift it a little and keep it there?”

“Yes.”

“And bring it down again?”

“Yes. I’ve worked it for Volken.”

Orven looked along the slab’s lower edge.

“I need enough light to see past that arm. Slowly. I’ll tell you where to stop.”

Dask watched the fingers scrape at the sill.

“If we can’t get a clear thrust, we lower it and come back.”

Orven nodded.

“Can you manage the handle?” Dask asked Ravik.

“I’ll use my good arm.”

Ravik went back up the upper flight. At the top he turned along the terrace, passing the worn circles carved into the wall. Below, Dask shifted his feet to give Orven room beside his shield.

The winch was at the other end. Ravik put his good hand on its wooden grip. The dry path lay behind him; both guards were visible below the terrace edge. The collector waited on the middle landing, his stick planted beside his foot.

Ravik checked the iron catch against the teeth of the wheel. It seated firmly.

“Ready,” he called.

Orven set the spear beside Dask’s shield.

“Slowly.”

Ravik leaned into the handle.

The rope tightened. The pulley squeaked, and the slab rose straight between its stone guides. Water pushed through the gap. Dead stems bent, dragged across the sill and slipped into the pool.

“Hold it there.”

Ravik stopped. The catch took the weight.

He eased his hand on the grip. It stayed where he had left it.

The pale fingers spread. The arm strained backward again, but the thick joint still caught below the slab’s edge.

Orven bent his knees and fed the spear past it.

The hand turned toward the shaft.

He thrust.

The point cut into the pale limb. Fingers closed behind the spearhead and jerked the shaft sideways. Orven turned the blade and pulled back. Dask moved with him, keeping his shield toward the mouth.

The fingers opened. Orven recovered the point.

Blood ran along the steel. Beneath the slab, the hand struck the sill and spread again.

Orven waited. When it reached toward him, he shifted the point past its fingers and tried to raise it. The shaft knocked against the lower edge of the stone.

He moved farther to the side and tried the angle again.

“Can you get at the body?” the collector asked.

Orven withdrew the spear.

“I’d have to get underneath. Those holes are packed as well. I can’t see where to put the point.”

“Raise it farther?”

Orven looked at the joint below the stone.

“That would give this its arm back.”

Dask kept his shield up.

“We need a way to hold it when that’s loose.”

“And more than the two of us,” Orven said.

He straightened and looked up at Ravik.

“Lower it. We’re done here.”

The collector rested both hands on his stick.

“I’d hoped we could have them cutting today.”

Orven stepped back beside Dask, his spear still toward the mouth.

“I’ll have to see what I can arrange when we’re back,” the collector said.

Ravik’s hand rested on the grip.

The storehouse key was in the collector’s buttoned pocket. Tomorrow he would leave with the grain.

Ravik could lower the stone. They could go back together, and the collector would carry the receipts and cutting tally with a report Ravik could not give.

The handle stayed still beneath his hand.

If these men did not return, the grain would stay.

He could reach Volken by the dry path, warn him, then go to Valley himself for armed help. He would tell them the guards had asked him to lift the cover. The creature had come through while they were trying to kill it.

He would leave out the order to lower it.

Dask adjusted his shield strap. He had brought Ravik water.

Ravik could break the storehouse door with his tools. Measure out what the households needed. Keep a tally and take it to Valley with the receipts. Admit taking the grain. Ask them to let the families repay it over several harvests.

The collector looked up from the landing.

“Ravik?”

Ravik braced his foot and turned the handle forward.

The catch clicked. The slab rose.

“Down,” Orven called at once. “Lower it!”

The collector pulled his stick from the stone and started up the stairs.

Ravik kept turning.

The pale arm jerked. Its thick joint scraped beneath the rising edge, and the hand vanished into the passage.

Orven stepped back toward the lower stairs. Dask moved beside him, shield facing the mouth.

“Ravik, lower it!”

The hand shot out again and planted farther along the sill. This time the arm bent freely. The fingers found the edge of the stone and gripped.

The rest of the creature remained behind the slab.

Ravik brought the handle around again.

At the far end of the terrace, the collector reached the stair head. He turned toward the winch.

“Stop!”

A low bellow swelled inside the passage and broke into a furious howl. A jaw pressed sideways beneath the stone. It caught there as the creature pulled against its planted hand.

Ravik leaned into the handle.

The edge rose past the jaw. A pale shoulder dragged free.

Dask set his shoulder against the shield. Orven’s spearpoint steadied beside its rim.

The thing came through the opening in a rush of violence and filthy water.