Less time between chapters this time, and I think this is the longest chapter to date: Dawn.

Stone

Chapter 31 – Racism

The next morning the wagon train left for Greenford. In the morning Rayla held classes for the children, where they practiced their letters and spelling. Sissy tried to keep up with the others, but Jason was far ahead of her, and Emily slightly. The new girl was elated to learn to write her name, although it was only the letter S that she could draw reliably. She could also make an I, and a very crude Y, but she seemed unable to string them all together. But she did draw a sloppy S on the paper, and proudly showed it to Stone when he rode by, bragging that it was ‘My Name’.

During lunch O’Breyne came by again, and he was astonished when the girl ran to him and gave him a big hug. There were gifts for both the girls again. The driver returned two of Emily’s dolls, which now had arms dowelled in. But to Sissy’s amazement, he had also carved another doll for her. She shrieked in glee, and landed another hug on the man. For a person who had never owned anything in her life, she now owned two dolls. Rayla gave her a shelf of her own in the caravan, and the girl proudly realized that she was a part of the family. Until now she hadn’t really needed a personal space: she hadn’t put the first doll down from the time it was given to her, until she received the second one. Now having a space of her own made her proud, and she promised Rayla that she would always keep it tidy.

After lunch, while Jason joined Kalosun for the afternoon ride, the girls took out the cloth that Rayla had bought and started making clothes for Sissy. First up was a nightgown, so she would no longer need to sleep in her filthy rags. The pink cotton would also be used for making new underwear for the entire family. Rayla knew that Stone, and possibly Jason would complain about the color, and she intended to remind him that he only let her buy two bolts of material when she also wanted to buy white for the men. She started by making two pairs of panties for Sissy, and a bra, something the girl didn’t own. Rayla cut out the material for the panties, and started to sew. Sissy wanted to help sewing, so Rayla threaded a second needle, and watched the girl start to stitch the second pair. At first her work was slow and uneven, and Rayla thought she would have to pull out and resew the early, uneven stitches. But quickly Sissy started to gain skill at sewing. The simple, repetitive motions were perfect for her limited capabilities, and when Rayla announced that she was doing well, she beamed with pride.

It took about an hour to sew the panties, and by the end Sissy was sewing faster and neater than Rayla, who had sewing engrained into her skillset as a Dolly. In fact it was Sissy who decided that her early stitching was too sloppy, and made Rayla teach her how to remove the bad work, and then she repaired it. When they were done, Sissy proudly pulled on the pair she had made herself, and put the ones made by Rayla on her shelf.

The bra was too complicated to finish quickly, so Rayla next cut out the nightgown, which would be looser than the dress that would be made out of the red, and thus easier to cut. Rayla cut out the pieces, and the two women worked on sewing the front and back together. They had the garment done in a few hours, and Sissy proudly put it on just before the evening stop. Emily had found the sewing boring after the first few minutes, so Rayla had Stone take her over to Kalosun, who was less than pleased at having a second pupil, but didn’t complain, since he had promised that he would teach both of the kids the Kithren ways.

When the wagons pulled into a circle for the camp, Rayla discovered that Sissy’s old clothes were not worth saving, and the girl did not want to get out of her new garment. School would be in the afternoon, and sewing in the morning tomorrow, Rayla decided. Emily squealed with glee at seeing Sissy in her new clothes, to the older girl’s pride and delight.

After the evening stew, the girls got out their dolls, and Sissy got some of the trimmings of materials, and wrapped them around the dolls, sewing a few stitches to make crude clothes for the carved toys. Emily was delighted with her new friends handiwork, and Sissy was pleased to be able to something that others could not.

After the meal Rayla took Kalosun aside and removed his bandages. There were scars forming where she had stitched the cuts together, but blood was no longer seeping out. But when she asked the black man to squeeze his hands together, he was unable to. He told her there was no pain when he did so, but he was unable to even wiggle his fingers.

Rayla frowned and told him to leave the bandages off until after breakfast, to give the wounds a chance to get some air. She would put clean bandages on after breakfast. Kalosun smiled: perhaps he could eat his porridge without assistance in the morning.

At story time that night Sissy nestled up next to Stone immediately. The stories were all new to her, and she listened with delight, which was amplified when Daisy laid her head on the girl’s lap the same way Steel did on Jason’s.

Later she confidently walked to the other caravan and crawled into her makeshift bed, proudly wearing her new nightgown. This night Rayla managed to get a good night’s sleep, confident that the kids were safe and secure in the new caravan.

In the morning she got up with Stone, and was able to go to the latrine while he got the kids up. As she was coming out of the latrine the girls were racing to get in first, and Sissy’s longer legs paid off, so Emily had to do a little dance until it was her turn to go in.

When the breakfast was brought out Kalosun tried to eat on his own. He only had a bit of trouble holding the bowl in his hands, but was completely unable to hold or manipulate the spoon. After three tries that resulted in the spoon falling to the floor, he let Rayla spoon the food into his mouth, although he insisted on holding the bowl.

He led Emily and Jason to the new caravan, while Rayla and Sissy stayed in the old one, getting out the bolt of red material. Rayla measured Sissy in several directions with a tape made from scratch material from the nightdress, and then started to sketch out pieces with chalk on the material, cutting and then holding pieces up to the girl’s body to check for size and potential fit. It was to be a simple dress, and Sissy did most of the sewing, with Rayla only putting in pleats and darts when needed. She spent most of her time on the bra, which didn’t take much of the pink material. She got out one of her spare bras that the seamstresses in Greenstone had made. It was not a direct correlation, since the cups on her bra were far bigger than Sissy would need.

By the evening, Sissy was in her new dress, and practically glowed in pride. The bra must have been comfortable as well. The result was that Sissy went to the fire with Stone, Emily, O’Breyne and Jason for the first time, while Rayla and Kalosun ate in the caravan. The man did not want people to see him being spoon-fed by a woman. Sissy looked around at all the men at the fire, many of whom were starting to look a little rough several days into the trip. But she felt safe sitting between the two men she trusted and Jason went up to the dinner pot to get her a helping of stew, which she ate slowly. The men took turns going to the pot, so she was never alone. O’Breyne was first to finish eating, and hurried off to the caravan with meals for Rayla and Kalosun.

After they all went back to the caravan, Rayla again looked at Kalosun’s wounds, and found that while they hurt less, he was still unable to move his fingers. “I think we need to take you to a healer in Greenford,” she said. “Something isn’t right.”

Kalosun didn’t say anything, but wondered if there was a big cliff nearby he could throw himself off from if his hands wouldn’t heal. He had no interest in living if he had to be fed like a baby. He decided to wait and see what the next healer said.

The wagon train reached Greenford just after noon the next day. The wagons regularly traveled back and forth delivering coal to the three towns (Greenwood, Greenford and Three Rivers, formerly Sarn). The men were allowed to spend the night in the tavern at the middle stop, and even though Stone and his family were staying in the caravans, the men spent the afternoon and evening drinking in the tavern, and then sleeping four to a room after they got properly drunk.

Stone went into town with Rayla and Kalosun. Stone had to sell the four wagons of coal assigned to the town, and the others were in search of a healer. They also stopped at the bakery for fresh rolls. The train had eaten the last ones from Greenstone at the stop last night, and they were slightly stale.

“No eggs today,” the clerk said as they walked into the shop. “The problems yesterday mean we only have enough for tomorrow’s baking.”

“What problems are those?” Stone asked. “We just got into town today.”

“Oh, then you wouldn’t know, would you? There are a couple of boys from the hatchery just outside of town that bring eggs into town. They sell us what we need, and we let them have a little stand outside the store to sell the rest to the townspeople. One of the boys was beaten up pretty badly, but two others from the farm came by today with a few eggs for us, but none to sell. They just cleaned up what was left of the stand.”

“That is terrible,” Rayla said. “Is anyone doing anything about it?”

“Not really. You see the boys are Kithren, and there are some who don’t like those people. We find them fine to deal with: honest and friendly. But some people would rather not have them in town. I’m surprised that no one has said anything about your man.” She glanced at Kalosun.

They made a large order, cleaning the bakery out of rolls, getting enough for the next camp on the way to Three Rivers. They put the buns into a backpack on Kalosun, who was glad to be helpful for a change.

“We also need to know if there is a healer in town,” Rayla said. Kalosun held out his bandaged hands.

“Well, there is a white woman in town, but she isn’t so good. The best healer for miles is Old Missa, about five miles out of town,” the clerk said, giving them directions.

Rayla then went to the fabric store, where she was allowed to buy a bolt of white cotton, after telling Stone his next set of underwear was going to be pink otherwise.

“He will have to wait outside,” the store clerk said, pointing at Kalosun. “We don’t allow Niggers in the store.”

Rayla and Stone were stunned at the language. Rayla had been called the term many times when she was a black man in 1950s Cleveland. Stone was from a time when just saying the N-word was considered racist. As well, Saskatchewan is almost an entirely white province, with most of the blacks there members of his football team. “Can I speak with your manager,” Stone asked, intending to have the clerk chastised.

The clerk returned with a man Stone knew. He was the owner of the cloth mill, and a member of the town council. But his first words on entering his shop were: “Get that nigger out of my store.” So much for chastising the clerk.

“If he leaves, then we leave too, and we will buy no more from this store,” Stone said.

“I’m sorry Captain,” the mill owner said, “We didn’t say anything about your son, but we don’t want any more of those people in town. The council has passed regulations so none can move in. There is one family just outside of town, that is out of our jurisdiction, and that is more than enough.”

“You mean you have turned away Kithren families who wanted to settle here?”

“Yeah, there were about one a week during the troubles in Sarn or whatever they’re calling it now. We sent them packing. Most went on up to Greenwood, or took places in the country. Good riddance.”

“That is horrible,” Stone said. “We are going to spend a few days in town, I think. I want to talk to the town council tomorrow. We are headed out to the healer today.” He turned to Rayla. “You can get your supplies in Three Rivers when we get there. None of my money will stop in this place.” With that the three of them left the store.

As they walked back to the caravan they paid attention to the looks they were getting. Only about one in 10 people had looks of disgust while others had neutral expressions, or even smiled at the three. At the camp Rayla got her horse, while Stone lifted Kalosun onto Doug, and then got on behind him. The black man’s hands could not hold reins to ride. The three checked that the kids were fine with O’Breyne, with Sissy and Emily staring at the man in awe as he slowly whittled another stick of wood into a doll. Jason was bored, and begged his parents to allow him to accompany them. He crawled up on the horse in front of his mother, and the horses headed off in the directions the bakery clerk had given to the healer in the country.

They arrived at a small hovel, with an ancient-looking black woman sitting on a rocking chair in front. She stood as they approached, and came forward when Stone lifted Kalosun down.

“A man of the people,” she said. “With injured hands.”

She unwrapped the bandages, muttering to herself as she examined the wounds. “Good stitching. Five or six days of healing so far. No muscle control. These hands will never work again. Unless we can repair.”

She looked up at Stone. “The muscles are severed. The healer who sewed up the wounds did a good job, but did not connect the muscles again. If I go in again – reopen the wounds – I might be able to make the connections. I need a special poultice but I am short some ingredients. Toadwort, Bailee’s Lace, Cromfall and St. Arno’s bern, and a few others.”

“I know those weeds,” Kalosun said. “I saw Toadwort a half mile back, on the way in. But I cannot dig. Will you allow the boy to accompany me to dig them up? He needs to know how to find those plants for his training anyway.”

Stone pondered for a moment. There was small chance of the wounded man trying to flee, when he was on the verge of a possible cure. “Do you want to go with him?” he asked Jason.

“Yes please. I like learning new things from him. Things that the people should know.”

The two left, heading back to where the Toadwort was, while looking for the other items. They were gone a half-hour, and Rayla was just starting to worry when Arthur reassured her that they were headed back.

The old woman had not been idle during this time, having stoked a fire and arranged jars holding ingredients she had on hand. Rayla had been helping her throughout, and wanted to observe the operation, in case she needed to heal one of her loved ones someday.

Stone had also been busy. The woman said she needed two fresh twigs of beechwood, about 10 inches long and very straight, with no knots. Stone found some quickly, only to be told they were no good: not straight enough. In the end it was his fourth try before she accepted the sticks, telling him to strip them of bark and then taper the ends to a point, somewhat like a flat screwdriver blade. She then had him split the tip along the long point two thirds of the way up the length of the twig.

While all this was happening, the crone was mixing herbs in a pestle. She stopped, bent down, and picked up a small stone, and then wedged it into the split in the twig. She squeezed the end, and Stone realized that she had made a wooden pair of tweezers. She dropped the stick into a pot of boiling water, and told Stone to do the same with the other.

Kalosun sat down in a chair in front of the woman, and she looked again at the wound on his left hand. “This would work better if we had the weapon that made the wound,” she said as she took a small knife to slit the stitches that Rayla had made days earlier.

“We do have it,” Stone said, and Jason stood forward, holding his knife. As Stone explained what happened, Jason showed how he had twisted the knife. The healer then surprised everyone, including Kalosun when she slapped the man hard in the back of his head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she accused. “You injured yourself. If you slapped the blade hard enough to grab it again, you must have cut to the bone. It is a very sharp knife.”

While this was happening, Rayla was removing the stitches, as instructed by Missa. The crone took the knife from the boy, hefting it as though she was familiar with it as a weapon. Then she laid the blade along the wound, and started to cut, reopening it at the same spot.

Kalosun winced, shutting his eyes. The woman thrust the largest of the sticks that Stone had found and been rejected, into his mouth and he bit into it against the pain. The old woman saw tears forming in his eyes, and got a cup to catch them. She handed Rayla a cup for the other eye, and then made her hold both while she picked one of the tweezers from the fire, and started to probe into the wound. Kalosun moaned, and the tears came faster.

“Shut up, idiot,” she snapped at him. “You are Kithren. Act like one. We know it hurts. It will hurt more. Silence.” The moans stopped as Kalosun bit harder into the stick. The tears did not stop, and may have increased. Rayla caught them all, wondering why she needed to do so.

“See?” the healer told her as she probed the wound. “It is as I thought. He sliced right to the bone. See the nicks there and there?” Rayla could barely see through the flowing blood. “The inner parts are split, and your stitches did not unite them. I will use this stick to move the pieces together. They may heal. Only the Sun goddess can be sure. Give me the cups.”

She poured the cups, each a quarter full, into the poultice she was making, occasionally sniffing the mixture. When she deemed it was ready she had Rayla sniff it. “That is what it needs to smell like. It is a powerful healing mixture.” She then daubed a generous amount into the wound and pulled the sides together. She got out a thread and a needle, but handed them to Rayla. “You sew well. Stitch the wound up, and use stitches twice as close as last time.” She looked at Stone, and shook her head sadly, muttering “too big for fine work.” She turned to Jason. “Boy can you take the cups and gather more tears? We will need them for the other hand.”

So Jason squirmed in next to Rayla, and held out the cups as the woman repeated her actions on the second hand. She grabbed the second tweezers, saying: “I don’t know why, but it works better if I boil them.”

“I know why,” Stone said.

“What does a man know about healing?” the crone spat out.

“There are tiny little bugs, so small that you can’t see them. When they get into a wound, they grow. Not bigger, but more and more of them. The wound festers and smells bad. The boiling water kills the bugs, so the infection doesn’t happen.”

Kalosun moaned again. “Stop that,” she snapped. “Weakling.” Then she turned back to Stone. “So boiling helps. It works for wood tools, and metal ones. But sometimes I need to put a finger into a wound. I cannot boil my finger, can I?”

“No, but there are other ways to sterilize things. For your hand, you could use whisky. It tends to kill the germs as well.”

“I don’t know many of the words you say,” the healer said. “But it makes sense. I will try whisky. In childbirth I sometimes have to put my hands in to turn the baby. Many times the mother dies. I will use your whisky next time. There.” The latter word was to announce the second wound was done, and Rayla, who had just finished sewing the first hand moved to stitch up the other. The crone took much of the remaining poultice and spread it on top of the first wound.

“This one will take longer to heal,” she said. “The new tears the boy gathered make the second part of the poultice stronger.” She wrapped a bandage around the first hand as Rayla sewed the second, and then spread poultice over it, and wrapped it. Kalosun finally opened his eyes, and spit out the wood, nearly chewed through.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Thank the goddess if you heal,” she replied. “You may heal, or not. Even if one hand heals you will not be a cripple. And stop slapping at knife blades.”

Suddenly there was a loud moan, coming from inside the hut. “That is my other patient,” she said, and went back into the hut. Rayla followed her.

“He was beaten in the town yesterday,” the woman said as she changed a damp cloth on the head of the boy. Rayla could see that the lad was badly beaten, with many purple bruises on his dark skin. Rayla gasped when she saw how badly the boy was beaten.

“One leg and one arm broken,” the healer said. “And many ribs. He was kicked as well as punched. Broken nose, and hits to both eyes. He will be with me for at least a week, maybe three.”

Rayla flashed back to when Ray in Cleveland had been set on and beaten. She commiserated with the boy, who looked about 10.

Rayla popped out and looked at Stone, who stuck his head and big shoulders into the tiny hut to see. He came out with a pale face.

“This happened yesterday?” he asked.

“Yes. The boy was my egg lad,” she said. “His mother runs the hatchery, and every week or too they bring me eggs. I help with births at her house, and supply a solution for her oldest daughter, to keep her from having a baby. She works at a whorehouse in the town. So the eggs pay for the boy’s care.”

“Oh yes,” Stone said. “What do we owe you?”

“Well, your woman helped, and the man and the boys restocked my herb supplies. Is three silver too much?”

“I think this is more appropriate,” Stone said, pulling a gold out of his money sack.

“For that you can leave the man with me for a month,” she said. “But he doesn’t need it. Just take him to where he can get a good meal. Kithren food is best, not that pap they serve in town. The family of the boy in the hut lives on the way back to town. They might feed him, and the rest of you, if you treat them politely.”

The four got on the two horses, with Kalosun riding with Stone on Doug again, and Jason riding in front of his mother on the other horse. They rode back towards town, looking closely for the lane that the healer had described for them. Knowing what to look for made it clear, and they turned down to follow the lane about a half mile, where they could see a smallish house, with the sounds of the hatchery coming from a larger barn behind, and chickens filling the yard. They dismounted, tethering Rayla’s horse to a post close to a water trough and some good grass. Doug, as normal, was allowed to roam.

Chapter 32

There was a woman sitting on the porch: old, but nowhere nearly as old as the Missa. A young girl popped her head out of the door, then vanished back inside. A few moments later, two teen boys came out, each holding a piece of lumber menacingly. A smaller boy, Jason’s age, followed, with a pronounced limp and just peered between his older brothers.

“Two of the people, and two whites,” the old lady said. “An odd combination, in these parts.”

Jason stood in front of Stone, fingering his knife in reaction to the boys. Stone just put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “This is my son,” Stone said. “My adopted son. The other of your race is … a friend … who we just took to the healer up the road.”

“Kinny? Did you see Kinny there? How is he?” the woman asked anxiously.

“He is sorely hurt,” Stone said. “But he is being well looked after. I hope to find those who did that to him. Can someone here tell me what happened?”

“I can,” the boy with a limp said, moving to the front. “I was there, and got knocked around some, though not as bad as Kinny. We were taking eggs to the bakery, and then we set up outside, like normal. About a dozen boys … teens, bigger that either of us, came along and said ‘we don’t want your kind around here.’ First they broke all the eggs we had, then they took the money we got from the bakery. Momma needs that money to buy food. For us and the birds.”

“The boys would have kilt Kinny, and then started on me. They were kicking him mostly when the bakery man came out and chased them all away. He had two of his workers take Kinny back here to the house on a stretcher, and when Momma saw him she said for them to take him to the healer. I don’t know what we are gonna do if we can’t sell our eggs in town. My brothers and I and going to take them in tomorrow, but I don’t know if the two of them can handle that gang.”

“Don’t worry. And your brothers look like they know how to handle themselves. A few swats from those sticks and the gang will split up. They are bullies, and bullies don’t like fighting when they might be the ones getting hurt. I will keep an eye out for you when I am in town tomorrow.”

“Put down the sticks, boys,” the old lady said. “These are friends. Can you all stay for supper?”

“Yes ma’am,” Stone said. “This is my wife, Rayla, and she would be proud to help out in your kitchen. The man is Kalosun, and as you can see he is wounded, but we hope now that he will recover. The healer said some good Kithren food would help.”

Rayla went into the kitchen, where three girls, from Jason’s age up to a girl in her mid teens seemed to be in charge. They were shy at first, but Rayla’s friendly manner soon had them all working together.

Stone asked the boys if he could see the hatchery. Jason tagged along, walking alongside Korry, the boy with the limp. They were the same age, and quickly bonded. The older boys proudly showed Stone the hatchery, which was mainly rows of roosts for the birds, who spent most of the day roaming the property, scratching for food. The boys spread some grain about, and said that summer rations were about a third of winter, when the birds seldom left the roosts. In summer quite a bit of the birds’ food consisted of bugs and grasses that they foraged.

Each morning eggs were gathered, and of the 200 birds there was usually 180 eggs, which were sold for six-pence a dozen to the towns people, and a lower rate for the bakery, which bought five dozen for two silver. The birds were on different cycles, the boys explained, so that there was no dormant period when only young chicks were growing. Older birds were culled, two per week, to provide the only meat the family ate, or needed.

That evening the table was set, and supper was ready when a beautiful teenager walked up the lane, accompanied by a white boy of about the same age. Stone thought he recognized the boy, but couldn’t place him.

“Here momma,” the girl said, dropping some coins in her mother’s lap after kissing her. “It wasn’t a great week, but not bad.”

“We has company,” the old woman said.

“I see,” the girl said, walking over to Korry and giving the boy a sisterly hug. “How are you? And how is Kinny?”

“Not good,” Korry said. “But the visitors said the healer told them he will be okay when the bones heal up. How did you know what happened?”

“It was the talk of the town yesterday,” the girl said. “The other girls in the house said all their customers were talking about it. Most were shocked and angry, a few were glad it happened. I didn’t have any customers. Friday’s are for Willy. She looked up lovingly at the white man beside her.”

Stone gathered from the conversation that the girl worked in one of the whorehouses in the town. Over dinner she learned that Willy was her only customer on Friday, and on Saturdays she brought him home to the family dinner. Other days of the week she got business from men who wanted the exotic experience of a Kithren woman: particularly one as beautiful as Kali. Stone had seen Kalosun glare at Willy when he entered. But he ate in the kitchen with one of the younger girls feeding him, so supper was not ruined by his apparent dislike of a white man with a Kithren lover.

The meal was exquisite. Rayla and Stone had never eaten such food, and the taste compared with Chef’s work at the restaurant in Greenstone. The closest Stone could place the food was a mixture of Mexican and Greek that worked exceptionally well together. Rayla had never eaten ethnic food on Earth, so she was just amazed at the tastes. Even Jason liked it, sitting next to his new best friend, Korry, giggling as the two chatted to each other.

Over dinner the discussion ventured into Konna, the eldest daughter still in the house (not counting Kali) who had cooked the meal. She was nearing the age of leaving the house, and apparently was considering joining Kali in that trade. Kali was against it.

Rayla came up with another alternative. She suggested that Konna go apprentice to the healer up the road and learn as much healing as she could while the old woman lived. The mother thought seriously about it.

“It would be an honorable profession,” she said. “But would the healer be able to support her? She needn’t get a salary. Her payment would be the lore she learns.”

Stone reached into his money sack and pulled out three coins. He placed a gold on the table. Take this to the old woman. I will give her one of these every year as payment for teaching you. And these two,” he dropped two silver on the table, “are for the best meal I’ve had in years.”

“You are guests,” the mother objected. “You don’t pay.”

“Don’t you see,” Stone said. “Your food is unique around here. I know you think it is only staple Kithren fare, but people would pay for it. If you could have four guests each night, at a silver per pair, you would make another 10 or 12 silver a week.”

“Then I could stop working in that place,” Kali said. She turned to Willy: “We could marry.”

“Not with my father the way he is,” Willy said. “He’d fire me from the mill, and disown me.” It suddenly clicked for Stone who the boy was. The resemblance to the mill owner who had kicked them out of the fabric store was uncanny. Clearly this was his son, and just as clearly he didn’t have the same racist tendencies.

“Your father is on the town council?” Stone asked. The boy nodded.

“I am meeting them tomorrow. I hope to be able to get some of this prejudice eased up. It is clear that not all the people of the town are against Kithren’s. Only a few seem to be leading the hatred.”

“Yes, my father and my younger brother among them.”

“You will stay the night?” the older woman asked. “We don’t have room, but …”

“No, we must leave. We have a daughter back at the camp, she is half-Kithren,” Rayla said.

“May I stay?” Kalosun asked Stone. “I could sleep in the coop if there is no room in the house.”

“You don’t need to ask me,” Stone replied. “I am not your master or boss. Can you survive without our help? Ask the lady for permission.” He looked at the woman.

“Of course he can stay,” she said with a smile. “But I insist that you bring the little girl next time. She deserves to know what Kithren food tastes like.”

“Done,” Rayla said. “And I need another day in your kitchens with your daughters. I know I won’t be able to reach their levels, but I would like to be able to make some of those wonderful dishes for my family from time to time.

The boys helped Kalosun make a bed in the coop while Jason, Stone and Rayla mounted up to head back to the camp.