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 Volker 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.

Volker 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.

Volker 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.”

Volker 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.”

Volker 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.”

Volker 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 Volker 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.”

Volker paused over the knot.

“Did you lift the flap?”

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

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

Ravik nodded.

Volker finished tying the cloth and looked toward the spades.

“What about the water?”

“The bank’s come down just beyond the outlet. Earth and roots, right across the channel. Water’s getting round the sides, but hardly any.”

“Can you see where it’s torn away?”

“From the lower steps.”

“We’ll need something to cut the roots.”

“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.”

Volker rubbed a fleck of rust from the spade blade.

“Tell him about the bank. Make sure he understands it’s more than reeds against the bars.”

“I’ll show him.”

His mentor picked up the coil of rope.

“I could come as far as the pool.”

“Stay here for now.”

Volker looked up.

“You nearly put your back out the last time we cleared a slip,” 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.”

Volker 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.”

Volker 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.

He 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 were taller than the collector, with broad horns 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 bank’s fallen across the channel beyond the old works. Volker’s finding people to dig it clear, but there’s something in the outlet. 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 flap. 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 open the flap?”

“There’s a winch on the ledge above.”

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

Ravik nodded.

The collector set his pen down.

“Which bank has fallen? The one along the field path?”

“On the far side of the ridge, beyond the outlet.”

“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 heavy flap over the mouth on the other side. The water comes out beneath it and follows a channel to the lake. That’s the channel the bank’s fallen into.”

“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 other side. Roots and dead stems are packed beneath the flap as well.”

“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. We’d still need people to cut the roots and dig the fallen earth out of the channel.”

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

“How close would they have to work?”

“Right in front of the opening to rake it clear. Then farther down the channel, with their backs to it.”

“And if more of the bank comes down?” the guard by the doorway asked.

“We’d need someone watching from firm ground. Volker can arrange that. But nobody can start while that thing’s there.”

The collector drew the book closer.

“If the bank’s failed, 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?”

“Volker.”

“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 bank.”

“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 the bank.”

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

“From the steps. You can see where the earth’s torn away before you reach the opening.”

Orven considered that.

“We look first. No one starts digging 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.

“Volker 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.

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

“It’s all right.”

“You keep holding it.”

Ravik took his hand away from his shoulder.

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

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. Volker 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 Volker’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. He stepped over the roots and stopped at the head of the descending stone flight.

Below, water covered the outer edge of the landing. The outlet lay against the rock beneath its overhang, with earth and roots blocking the channel beyond it.

Partway down the flight, short steps branched up to the winch ledge. A dry walk continued beyond the winch, curving around the rock to rejoin the upper path.

The collector came to stand behind Ravik.

“There?”

Ravik pointed to the broken branch lying across the fallen earth. Its leaves trailed in the backed-up water.

“The channel runs beneath that. You can see where the bank tore away.”

The collector leaned forward enough to follow the line of fresh earth.

“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 slipped around the fallen earth 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 Volker received. The cutting tally as well. I’ll take them with my report.”

Ravik stared at the torn bank.

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 head of the stairs.

“Wait here until we’ve looked,” he told the collector.

He went down first, watching the landing and the dark recess beneath the overhang. Dask followed with his shield toward the outlet.

Nothing moved on the exposed stone.

Orven tested the last wet tread before putting his weight on it. Dask stepped onto the landing beside him and scraped his boot across the bare stone near the wall.

“Keep to this side,” he told Ravik. “That green edge is slick.”

Ravik came halfway down the flight and stopped beside the steps to the winch ledge. The collector remained above him.

From there, Ravik could see water welling through the stems beneath the flap. Its lower edge rested on the tangle. No part of the creature was visible.

The lifting line rose from the flap, passed over the pulley above the recess and ran back to the winch.

Orven looked along the torn bank, then turned toward the opening.

“Where were you standing?”

Ravik pointed to the left corner.

“There. I was working the rake under the edge.”

His shoulder tightened as he looked at the stone.

“Wait there,” Orven said.

Dask moved up beside him, shield facing the mouth. Orven lowered the spear beside its rim and fed the point beneath the flap.

Ravik kept his good hand against the wall.

The spearhead disappeared among the stems. Orven moved it slowly along the sill, lifting the tangled material with the flat of the blade.

A piece of the rake floated out.

It turned once in the water and lodged against the edge of the landing. The broken end was pale and ragged.

Dask glanced at it.

“That’s yours?”

Ravik nodded.

Orven shifted to the side of the opening and fed the spear in again, leaving most of the shaft between himself and the mouth.

Pale fingers closed around the steel just behind the point.

Orven thrust.

The fingers opened. A blow from inside drove the shaft against the underside of the flap, wrenching it sideways in his hands.

He pulled the spear free and stepped back. Dask moved with him, keeping his shield toward the opening.

A dull impact sounded beneath the overhang.

The flap jolted outward along its lower edge, then settled onto the tangle.

Neither guard approached again.

Blood darkened the spearhead.

“I caught the hand,” Orven said.

The stems beneath the flap began moving.

Above Ravik, the collector came down another step. Dask raised his free hand toward him.

“There. Stay there.”

The collector stopped.

Water ran over the sill. A few stems twitched, then lay still.

“Can you reach farther in?” the collector asked.

Orven brought the spear forward again, keeping to the side. He tried to angle the point upward beneath the flap, but the blade scraped against its lower edge.

He withdrew it.

“Not where I need to.”

Dask followed the lifting line with his eyes.

“Can you raise that a little and hold it there?”

“The bottom swings out and up,” Ravik said. “I can lift it a little at a time.”

“And it’ll stay where you put it?”

“Yes.”

Orven looked from the narrow gap to the winch.

“Enough to see under the edge. If I haven’t a clear thrust, we lower it and come back with more help.”

He waited until Ravik looked at him.

“That cover’s keeping it off us. Raise it slowly. I’ll tell you where to stop.”

Ravik looked toward the ledge.

The short steps beside him led straight to the winch. From there he could reach the dry walk without passing the outlet.

If the thing got out while the guards were down here, they might never reach the stairs.

There would be no escort for the grain tomorrow.

Dask shifted his shield strap.

“Can you manage the handle with that arm?”

“I’ll use the other one.”

Dask nodded and turned back toward the opening.

Ravik could tell them to leave it. They would go back together. The collector would have his evidence, and Orven could bring more men.

In the morning, the sacks would go with them.

He climbed the short steps to the ledge.

The winch stood above the outlet, close enough to the edge that he could see both guards below. The dry walk lay open behind him.

Ravik put his good hand on the handle.

The wooden grip was smooth beneath his palm. He had raised the flap for Volker before, a little at a time while his mentor cleared branches below and called up to him.

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

Orven stood to one side of the mouth. Dask was beside him, shield angled toward the opening. The collector waited on the main flight, above the wet landing.

“Ready,” Orven called.

Ravik leaned into the handle.

The loose line tightened. The pulley squeaked, and the flap’s lower edge lifted away from the sill.

Water pushed through the widening gap. Dead reeds dragged over the stone, caught, then slipped forward.

“Slowly.”

Ravik eased the handle around. The catch clicked behind it.

Something pale moved among the roots.

“Hold it there.”

Ravik stopped.

The catch took the weight. Below him, Orven bent his knees to look beneath the raised edge, keeping his spear extended. Dask watched over his shield.

Ravik loosened his hand.

The handle stayed where it was.

The storehouse key was in the collector’s buttoned pocket.

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

Ravik could reach Volker along the dry walk, warn him, then go to Valley himself for armed help.

He would tell them the guards had asked him to raise the flap, the creature had come through, and he had run while they fought.

He would leave out the order to stop.

His stomach tightened.

Dask adjusted his shield. He had brought Ravik water. Now he was trusting him with the flap.

Ravik could call them back. The collector would carry their request with a report Ravik could not give.

But tomorrow the grain would go with him.

Narev’s mother had missed supper twice. Draining the fields would not replace the grain already lost.

He could force the storehouse door with his tools. Measure out only what the households needed, leave the rest and keep a tally.

He would take the receipts and cutting tally to Valley and admit taking the grain. Ask them to lower what was still owed and let the families repay the food over several harvests.

He would stay until they understood.

The catch held.

Ravik pictured Narev’s mother untying a sack.

He braced his foot and closed his hand around the grip.

He turned the handle again.

A low bellow swelled inside the passage and broke into a furious howl.

The jaw lifted clear of the tangle. A hand braced beneath it, long fingers spreading on the stone.

Orven stepped back toward the stairs. Dask moved with him and set his shoulder against the shield. The spearpoint steadied beside its rim.

“Lower it!” Orven shouted. “Ravik, lower it!”

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