The King Who Broke Heaven’s Tithe

Chapter 35 The Animals at the Gate

Vann had all three mules saddled before Daren reached the yard on the thirteenth morning.

“We leave tomorrow at dawn,” the carter said.

Daren nodded, then looked toward the barrels beside the terrace. One was already half full. Asha was crouched beside it with Tovin, comparing the sediment in two cups.

He needed her here.

Harrowmere needed its animals, its cart, and the woman who knew which seeds might survive another winter. Need did not stop at his gate.

“Do you have enough food for the return?” he asked.

“From my own payment. Don't put another measure on Iven's tally.”

Vann tightened a strap, checked the mule’s skin beneath it, and loosened it again. The routine steadied Daren more than reassurance would have done. Someone expected the road to be traveled and the beast to reach its owner.

Asha joined them with a sealed jar.

“I can leave notes. I can't leave judgment in a jar.”

“What would persuade you to stay?”

The question came out before Daren could improve it.

She studied him. “A reason greater than the work waiting at home.”

He could have named the monastery. The soil. Seventy people. Instead, he looked at the seed stains on her hands and understood how easily an argument became a claim on someone’s life.

“I haven't one that belongs only to us,” he said.

“No.”

She would finish the third day of her visit, show Nera and Tovin how to maintain the comparisons, and leave in the morning as agreed. If Hearthfast sent results with a trader later, she would read them. A return visit would depend on Harrowmere’s needs and safe passage.

They made no promise larger than that.

Jun arrived with a man Daren recognized from Halvek’s bridge. His name was Pellan; he smelled of wet wool and had walked since before dawn.

“The lower road is open,” he said. “The charcoal shelf isn't.”

The green-sashed steward had posted men near the upper ford. A wagon bearing Summit markings had brought a bronze spindle to the ridge above Rillmarket. The guards were taking rope, straight timber, and pack animals under a transport order. One overloaded beast had already died beside the spindle.

Vann put down the strap.

“They'll take these.”

“Probably,” Pellan said.

He had another route to offer, though it was no invitation from its owners. Charcoal burners at Cinderbank maintained a narrow rope crossing over the western cut. Their leader, Keela Voss, had sent word to Halvek that she would speak to travelers who approached openly and brought no armed collectors.

Daren asked the distance. Less than half an hour to the near crossing from Hearthfast’s lower quarry; beyond it, the path joined the lower road south of the seizure point. It would add time but spare the known ford.

“Can mules cross?” Vann asked.

“One at a time. If Keela says the deck will carry them.”

Pellan would return by the same route with a message before nightfall. He would not promise Keela’s answer. Daren gave him a plain account of their party and asked what help the burners needed in exchange.

No threats. No claim that hungry refugees were owed someone else’s bridge.

Vann asked whether the steward had taken the dead pack beast's load before tending its harness wounds. Pellan did not know. The carter stood silent for a while, stroking the nearest mule's nose.

“I used to carry stone for men like that,” he said. “Always a deadline. Always another beast available farther down the road.”

“Why did you stop?” Daren asked.

“My brother kept the hauling contract. I kept the animals. We haven't agreed on a meal since.”

It was the first personal thing Vann had volunteered. Daren had thought of him as a man who charged for every delay. Now he saw someone who had already paid for refusing to hurry when other people demanded it.

After the messenger left, Brida found Daren trying to stand without his stick.

“You're not going to inspect it today.”

“I know.”

“You look like you need to hear it twice.”

He sat again.

Asha spent the afternoon teaching Nera to separate observations from guesses. Tovin copied the marks onto a board large enough that nobody could mistake which box belonged where. Orin carried fresh cloths from Pella, pleased by work that had a clear beginning and end.

At dusk, Pellan returned with Keela’s answer. She would allow the three mules and travelers across if Hearthfast helped mend the damaged approach before they used it. She also wanted a witness when the Summit’s men came again to count her charcoal.

Daren could offer a witness. Whether he could protect one was another matter.

Jun volunteered to go. Berrit offered to help with the approach, provided the work stayed above the cut. Brida would inspect the near anchors in the morning. Daren agreed to remain at the lower quarry, close enough to coordinate help without pretending his knee could manage the bridge.

Pella insisted on that last condition in front of everyone.

Night settled over the yard. The mules slept beneath the sound half of the stable roof. Their owners were still far away, but at least the route home had begun to take shape.

Then Enn raised its head.

From the mill stairs came the smell of hot metal.

Edrin stood in the doorway, clutching his wooden drawing.

“The inner tongue is lifting,” he said. “If you want to see it, we have to lower the water before dawn.”