The Slime Farmer - 114 Where are you?

Defi kept a hand on the girl’s shoulder, keeping her still against the rocking of the wagon while also letting the Current tell him of her health.

With the boar-lizard caparison’s warming Emblems, heat seeped slowly back into her body.

But it was still too cold.

Going back for a physicker would be…

At the boar-lizard’s full speed, it would be a nearly two hour trip from the last farm to town and back. Not to mention, even the boar-lizard’s vaunted stamina would not be able to keep up a top speed for two hours.

“If you have a rock-pick at your place, it would be faster to get Sarel by boat.”

“Oh, she’s back?” Barham looked relieved. “Good. She’d be better than the physicker at this.”

Sarel had spent a month in Ecthys and just as Defi was getting used to her absence in the zaziphos orchards, she showed up like a ghost one day; scared him and his fruit-picking helpers silly by appearing silently from behind a tree and then disappearing nearly as quietly.

If she hadn’t nodded at them with a curt greeting, Defi and the others might have thought her an illusion.

The bustling city appeared to have irritated her hermit sensibilities, as she never appeared to them even once since that one time.

Since then, in unexpectedly adorable manner, his students were always vigilant when picking fruit at the orchards, never going anywhere on Sarel’s homestead alone.

Thinking of his older friend’s recently avoidant habits, a furrow appeared between Defi’s brows.

Would she not come out for this?

He shook his head, immediately incinerating the thought.

Even not wanting to deal with people, Sarel wasn’t the kind of person that refused to aid someone in critical danger.

Of that, Defi was certain.

Under his hand, the girl started to shiver and curl into herself despite being unconscious.

Was that a good or bad thing?

He could only tuck the caparison tighter around her, fidgeting.

“Barham, are we far yet?”

The man grunted something as the wagon jolted again, then started to slow slightly.

Defi recognized the sound of wooden wheels on stone. It was the stone bridge that had been blessed two months prior.

They were at the Garge homestead, moments away from the last farm before the cliffs which was owned by Barham’s family.

Barham didn’t slow his speed until the boar-lizard butted right up to the kitchen entrance.

Once the girl was secured in Barham’s arms, Defi made for the river and the small boathouse that housed the family’s two scows. “I’ll get the boat out.”

The tail end of autumn was colder in the higher mountains, and the forming ice floes at the edges of the river necessitated that the small wooden boats used by the Lowpool’s inhabitants be stored away until spring brought more safety to the river again.

Defi checked that none of the scows were being repaired for leaks or other problems, then pulled down the one that looked sturdier to ready it for use. He quickly went through the inspection that the old lady who made his scow drilled into his memory.

By the time Barham appeared, the scow was on the water, with Defi standing on the poler’s platform.

“Let’s go.” Barham stepped off the pier with the balance learned from a lifetime of handling boats, and immediately moved to the bow.

At Barham’s word, Defi pushed off immediately.

“How is the girl?”

“About to be roasted in front of the fire, if I read things correctly. Allise and the old man will take care of her, don’t worry.”

Barham braced his knees against the boat and raised the rock-pick above his head. He brought it crashing down on the thin ice sheets that covered the parts of the river closest to the banks.

Defi concentrated on poling the boat as efficiently as he could, as Barham broke ice sheets or pushed away ice floes that appeared before them.

The distance from the last farm to Sarel’s homestead was not that far, but when poling against both current and ice it felt like it took frustratingly long.

It was not soon enough that they were knocking on Sarel’s door.

“I can see the light of your fire, Sarel.” Defi loudly stated to the closed door he was rapping his knuckles against. The house was not that large. If she was inside, she would hear it. “Someone fell into the river, and they’re all but blue. Do you have anything that can help?”

“Madame, are you in?” Barham followed.

They looked at each other when there was no response.

Defi looked around the house to the orchard, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “Maybe she’s not here?”

The drizzling rain seemed like it was a prelude to a good pour. She should be back soon if she didn’t want to be drenched.

If she was at Marmocha’s or the orphanage, then Defi had wasted time that may be critical to someone’s life. He thumped a fist on the porch rail. “Creator, Sarel, where are you?”

The door opened, startling Barham who was right in front of it.

Defi whirled, to see Sarel push a full packed bag to the large man standing in front of her door. Barham took it reflexively, nearly frozen in astonishment.

She brushed past him, moving toward the dock. “What in Chelua are you two waiting for? Blue, you say?”

Defi shared a look with Barham, and both grinned widely.

If it was Sarel, then the girl was as good as saved.

*

Haral was panicking. There was something hard in his chest, making it slightly difficult to breathe.

“She’s not back yet? Where did she go?”

His two youngest sisters shook their heads. “She didn’t tell us.”

He turned hopelessly to his younger brother. “Egg? Do you know anything?”

The five year old wrinkled his nose, then spread his arms. “She took a basket. A smelly one. Also, it was a big one, this big.”

A basket? Haral wracked his brains for any reason his fourteen year old sister, who was unable to walk on her own two feet much less carry anything heavy, would take a basket anywhere. “Did aunt or uncle say anything to her?”

The three looked at each other, shrugged.

Haral wanted to curse.

He sat on the small bed that his youngest sisters shared. The mattress was too thin, a part of his brain noticed; it should be changed soon.

“Egg. Egarval,” he put his hands on his brother’s small shoulders. “Do you remember anything else? Really anything else.”

His brother frowned. “She said I shouldn’t like fruits. That’s not true. I like fruits.”

Haral forced a smile. “Okay. I’ll get you some fruits tomorrow. But did you see the direction Amary went when she left?”

The youngest two didn’t see anything, having been in their room.

“I was with aunt.” Erkrea bit her lip, nearly tearful. “Will Ama be alright?”

“Yes,” said Haral firmly, fixing a cocky grin on his face. “Of course. I’m here, after all.”

“Sister too,” Sefiel said quietly.

He nodded emphatically. “Yeah, and Adtra too. And then Siggy’s coming back from university anytime now, do you remember?”

“Okay.”

After reassuring his younger siblings, he went to look for the other inhabitants of the house.

Adtra wouldn’t be back yet. Uncle would be at his favourite tavern at this time. Erkrea was in the room, so that meant that aunt would be in the sewing room.

“Good eve, aunt.” Haral kept the anxiety from his tone.

“You’re back?” Aunt Darsa, who was married to his father’s cousin Gyral, glanced at him before turning her eyes back to her mending. It looked like one of uncle’s good shirts. “Good. There’s a few pots in the kitchen that need scrubbing.”

“Yes aunt. I may ask, what did Amary do today?”

His aunt sighed. “Should I know? That girl keeps to herself.”

“She’s your niece.” The words nearly wouldn’t leave his throat.

“I have no blood with her,” the woman corrected. “I do not know why Gyral would consent to take her in; she is a drain on this household. Do you think we are so moneyed that we could support a do-nothing cripple?”

Haral’s fingers tightened on the doorjamb. “Madame.”

He wouldn’t call her aunt, couldn’t.

“Madame,” he said again. This time his restraint couldn’t conceal his anger and bitterness. “The embroidery on your robes is beautiful.”

Her busy fingers stiffened. When she looked up, red-faced and furious at his insolence, the doorway was empty.

Haral returned to the room that had been allocated to him and his siblings. “I’m going out. Wait for Adtra, yes? Tell her I took Amary out for a walk.”

He waited for their confirmation before smiling at them and speeding out the house.

“You! Haral, what are you doing? Come back here!”

He sneered at the woman who wore his sister’s work proudly everyday and yet called her a do-nothing cripple. He ignored her calls and looked around the neighbourhood.

He was all but certain that she had told Amary stupid things that his stupid sister then believed.

Chelua take this day. He was too tired to think.

Where would she go. With a basket? The wheeled chair she used was special; it could be moved by Amary turning a crank lever. But it wasn’t that sturdy. If she was going to carry things, the work couldn’t be too strenuous.

He turned to a man watching the faint drizzle from his porch. “Mestre, have you seen a girl in a wheeled chair pass here?”

The answer was negative.

He went to the next street and asked the same question. Again, no one saw her.

“Looking for your sister?” A woman yawned from an upper level window, eyeing him sleepily. “Toward the market, I saw.”

“Thank you!” Haral ran toward the market.

A basket, fruit.

A basket of fruit?

He skidded to a stop, his face suddenly white.

The last few weeks, people had been talking about someone looking to buy as much starcherry as possible, and someone at the docks was paying.

Amary wouldn’t have gone to the docks. They had too many cousins there.

That meant…

“Garge homestead.”

Haral whirled and ran in the opposite direction. The sleepy woman lifted her brow in surprise. “That’s not the way to the market, darling.”

There was no answer. Haral had already turned a corner.

The Garge homestead was hours away from town. But Amary still should have been back by now.

Rounding a corner street, the river road loomed before Haral.

It was near sundown already, and the autumn chill had been made worse by the grey weather.

Haral, heart uneasy, started jogging the river road, eyes sharp.

Amary, sister, where are you?

The soft drizzle that had blanketed the town the whole afternoon slowly gained weight, turning into actual rain.