A healthy week of wandering between village and bareland was all it took to clear the final boundaries of the last kingdom. It wasn't that the petty kings in that corner of the world claimed much, but raw power and a strong dose of ego provided a stretch of influence that could reach through anything. It was a concept Jay had never understood and never planned on understanding. But a week, yes, seven days could outrun anything. Besides the practicality and the allure, it was smart thinking that had led the Millers to keep their treasure cave in the middle of nowhere, seven days' travel from anything. Jay had originally found the cave, years before, after a particularly large heist–at least, for that time in their life, before they started conning kings and nobles.
The cave was only that by the loosest of definitions, a shrouded hollow in a grey moraine settled in a bare spot just beyond the Giant Forest. Few people of importance wandered that way, and the hunters and woodsmen were corrupt enough themselves that they couldn't care less about the business of anyone but themselves. Besides, the rocks were often considered dangerous, and it was only with much skill that the Millers could transport anything there. But as years went by, skill became habit, and habit was, as everyone knows, something that lends itself to ease.
Not that Lake enjoyed the hard labor. Well, she pretended not to. Lake was not a lazy girl by any means, Jay knew well enough, but she could put up the facade. Jay didn't mind. She was a woman and therefore weaker, and it was no fault of her own she couldn't haul much in a single trip as he or their father could. Then Lake could sit and whine that she had injured herself until another trinket caught her eye and begged her to come help. All in all, it only took an hour before the cart was empty save for enough gold to furnish another life for another lie.
And that was it. The gold, the real gold, was deposited, and they were off. The creaking cart wheels would turn with typical poverty, and Lake could wear her silly ruby earrings, provided her hair was kept down to cover them. Another tiny kingdom lay to the northwest. Jay drove the cart, occasionally throwing out another spectre to tease the mule.
It was Jay's turn to pick the village, and within a week and a half he had found it. A farming community by the way of Wheat Hill. Not the most creative name by any means, but as Jay guided the cart, Lake yawning in the back, to the main road that was more of a path of dust through randomly situated houses and farms (of course growing mainly wheat), a child about nine years old skirted into the path of the mule.
Jay threw out a hand on the reins and a curse word that shocked every other child watching the incident. The mule balked and leaped back and to the side. Lake gave a scream and practically leaped from the cart. One wheel slid and almost turned the entire cart over. Jay hopped to the ground, pushed the stupid beast of a mule back, and examined the boy.
Wonderful, he thought. One wrong move. One idiot child dead. In many towns that was enough to summon authority. One more night in jail. He was really not in the mood.
The child howled with increasing noise, something akin to the mule's screech and a sound of horror all his own. He was a blond scrap of bones, probably pale in the winter and red now to a fierce sun. His trousers were shredded on one leg and covered in mud on the other; it was difficult to see just which appendage was oozing blood.
"Is his mother about?" William muttered somewhere above Jay. "For the devil's needed sake, what'd you think you were doing, boy?"
"Driving a cart," Lake chimed in. She dropped down next to Jay and the boy. "Good going, brother. You killed him."
The boy puckered up his face, nodded, and prepared for another ear-splitting wail.
Damn. "Stick out your leg, kid," Jay ordered. "The hurt one."
With a stony glare, the boy obeyed. Slowly, the trouser-shredded knee bent out. Jay immediately tore at the cloth.
Lake gave a low moan.
"That man ripped Timber's leg open, Mama!" a little girl shouted from the side. Jay didn't want to look up. He already knew that every soul of the few children who had been around had summoned every other villager. Probably the only excitement these people had. Probably threw their offspring into the path of every stranger.
He was no healer, it was not a gift he had inherited. But for the worth of what an eye could see the leg looked bad. Lots of scrapes. Yes, scrapes were bad, weren't they? And blood. Blood was not a good thing.
The boy, Timber, was crying at an entirely new level of loud.
"Poor baby," Lake cooed. She nestled closer to Timber and slid her arms around his body so that he nestled just against his neck. "Does it hurt much."
The stupid kid nodded again.
"Really, Jay, you ought to be more careful," she said tactlessly. "The boy will be an absolute cripple from this day forward."
Every onlooker gasped.
"Quiet, you." He ripped a clean edge from his jacket, spit on it, and rubbed it against Timber's leg. What a mess this was becoming. If this leg were broken.
"But I don't want to be a cripple!" Timber whispered.
"That's Rina Wood's boy, too." An old man had made his way over, looking more amused than angry at the whole situation. Amusement was probably worse, Jay knew. "She relies on that boy for everything. Widow, you know. Cripple will be useless to her. Looks like you're out on the street, Timber."
The screaming immediately stopped. "But... Mama wouldn't do that to me!"
There really was a lot of blood here. It just kept oozing out. Jay looked to Lake for help. She only smiled.
"Timber, child," she said to the boy instead. "You're not going to be a cripple."
But all that blood and the cart and all these people staring... Jay gasped for breath. This could not be happening to him.
He had just killed a kid. A kid that had refused to shut his grubby little mouth until five seconds ago. He had just killed him with a cart and a mule. Well, he had to try something. How did the fairies do this sort of thing? He placed his hands directly on the leg. Strange. It didn't feel...
"It's not broken, idiot," Lake finally said.
Jay stared at the leg. No, it didn't look broken at all. Just... bloody.
William chuckled and leaned against the cart. "Pity to that boy, but I'm sure the leg is fine."
Jay glanced up in time to see the entire group of a dozen people lose interest in Timber and focus on the new strangers. He was more familiar with this.
Lake gave Timber's shoulders another squeeze. "Come on, child. Up. Try that leg out and then we will go some place and give it a proper cleaning."
Timber nodded again and struggled to his face. He grimaced, but clearly was perfectly capable of walking on the leg. Two children clustered him around him, shouting about various places to wash off the blood.
"There's a healer woman in town," said the old man. "I'm sure Rina's boy will wander over their eventually. I'm Tevor Fisher. Welcome to Wheat Hill." He extended a hand to William.
Looked fairly close to every other village.
William shook Tevor's hand. "Glad to be here."
"You folks just passing through or...?"
"Staying," Jay heard himself say.
William shot him an inquiring glance.
Jay shrugged. Running over a boy... it had to be some sort of sign. At least by all obligation they should stay until the boy looked better.
"Staying," William repeated, still shaking Tevor's hand. "That is, if you here could use a miller."
Tevor nodded, still shaking. "As a matter of fact, that'd be a fine thing for Wheat Hill. Ol' Robert still claims he can work the mill up by the river, but the truth is that he's old and weak and his mind just isn't with him anymore. You shouldn't have any trouble moving him out."
Convenient, Jay thought.
"You'll find yourself in good business," Tevor continued without any apparent sign of letting of William's hand anytime soon. "King Cherdith holds his palace only a few miles from here and doesn't mind sending out for good flour. That is, if you're talented."
William could still drum up the old milling skills when they were needed.
Jay caught Lake's eye, and they exchanged a smile. So running over Timber had been a sign. This town would be perfect for Move One.
"I'd like you to meet my children, then," William said. "My son, Bluejaybird. We call him Jaybird or just Jay. And this is my beautiful daughter Lake."
Lake lowered her eyes discreetly and modestly.
"Lovely children, lovely," Tevor agreed. "Five of my own. Only two remaining here. My daughter Linda, though... she can take you up to Robert's mill. There's a cottage there. She's a smart gal and knows just about everything here. Makes it her business to know."
William laughed. "The talents of children. Amazing how they grow. Jaybird here, he can do anything outdoors. Chop wood, hunt, build, you name it. And my Lake... you'll never see anyone more deft with a spinning wheel."
That was another rule. Rumors would always build themselves, given the right nudges.
They moved into the miller's cottage that day. It was quite easy to shoo Robert away. Tevor's daughter Linda sent him on a quest.