Seeker hadn’t told Beautiful about the land. All day at the tread-wheel, the thought had gnawed at him. How would he tell her? Would she be disappointed?
If only he’d worked harder. Or spent less. If only he hadn’t listened to Beautiful—“Buy yourself something delicious,” she’d said. He could’ve gone to Jabal last week. No… it wasn’t Beautiful’s fault. One less book from the peddler—that would have made the difference.
One more turn of the tread-wheel. The gears and axles creaked, the handle wobbled in his grip. He’d gone over it a hundred times in his mind. Beautiful was right—he was too serious. You can only tighten so much before something snaps.
Jabal should have waited just one more week. He knew that land was his—he shouldn’t have sold it. The earnest money was only a formality. Jabal himself had assured him of that. Heat rose in Seeker’s face, and his grip on the handle tightened.
Seventy-five gold for the land right beside it? He’d never be able to work enough to afford that. That smirk, when Jabal had tapped the far side of the village—was this his plan all along? Just business. Seeker’s breath grew ragged.
He quickened his pace, driving the handle harder, pouring all his ire into the tread-wheel. Without warning, it snapped from the shaft and sent him sprawling to the ground.
“Damn it!” he yelled, hurling the handle across the room. His vision blurred, red seeping around the edges. He slammed his fist into the wall. Then watched himself do it again. And again.
Seeker stood there, shaking—stunned at what he’d just done. Blood trickled down the wall, but the rough stone showed no sign of damage.
His hand was a different story—bloody, throbbing. Had he broken something? His face paled. What would Beautiful think if she saw it? How could he explain?
He glanced at the handle, then the shaft—a screw had come loose. His shift wasn’t over, but he needed to think. The mess could wait till tomorrow. He walked out, heading back toward the village.
***
Seeker sat on the bridge, legs dangling over the edge. He reached into his satchel and drew out a pipe and a pouch of tobacco. Guilt washed over him. The price of the pipe alone would have made the difference. He packed the bowl with care, set the stem between his teeth, and struck flint to steel. The spark caught, smoke curled from the bowl as he drew deeply. These days it was the only way he could think clearly. Another secret from Beautiful. Would she even know him when this was over?
He turned his problems over in his mind. A year and a half left. The work—and the loneliness—were killing him. And Beautiful was fading, little by little. There was no way out but through—just grit your teeth and keep going. He breathed a prayer to the King for help. The irony wasn’t lost on him—he might be the only man to pray while smoking a pipe.
People and carts streamed over the bridge, passing without a glance. Wait—was that Thoughtful?
“Thoughtful!” he shouted, straightening where he sat.
Thoughtful turned. It was him. He looked at Seeker for a moment, then laughed. “The beard looks good on you, man.”
“What are you doing here?” Seeker asked.
“Looking for you,” Thoughtful said. “They told me you’d be in Delight.”
“They?” Seeker asked, then added, “Mom let you come on your own?”
Thoughtful gave Seeker’s arm a playful shove, then dropped down beside him, swinging his legs over the edge.
“What happened to your hand?” Thoughtful asked.
“Long story,” Seeker said. He kept his voice low as he told it all, from the promise to Beautiful to Jabal’s change in terms.
Thoughtful was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the water. At last he spoke, “They’re screwing you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Seeker said with a sigh. “But what am I supposed to do?”
“You really love her, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
“Hey,” said Thoughtful. “At least she’s good looking—unlike the other girls you’ve liked.” A grin crept over his face. “She actually has—”
Seeker balled his fist and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
Thoughtful laughed. “Mind if I stick around for a while?”
“Mom’s fine with it?”
He shrugged.
“I’ve got work.”
Another shrug.
“If you stay, you’ll work, too.”
“Sure.”
“You won’t get paid.”
“OK.”
“Deal,” Seeker said.
Thoughtful grinned. “Can I get one of those too?” He nodded toward Seeker’s pipe.
“Only if you don’t tell Mom.”
“I’m staying with Dad now,” Thoughtful said with a shrug.
***
Seeker and Beautiful walked the fields near Bright-Harbor, hand-in-hand.
“Just tell her,” Thoughtful had said.
“Beautiful,” Seeker said at last, “I lost the land overlooking the ravine.” He lowered his head.
“I told you already, you dumb boy,” she said. “I don’t care—so long as we’re together.” She lifted his chin and kissed him.
“I’m losing you,” he said.
Lightning flashed in her eyes. She raised her hand, and the diamonds on her ring blazed. “I’m right here, little baby.”
“No,” he said. He turned to face her. “That’s not what I mean. It’s the dream – it’s fading.”
“Yeah,” she said. “It is for me, too.”
“I’ve tried everything. I can’t stop it.”
“Baby,” she said softly, “it doesn’t matter. You’ve got a year and a half left. You’ll finish. And I’ll be waiting for you—even if the dreams stop. Never forget that.”
He tilted her chin and kissed her lightly.
***
The next morning, Seeker reattached the handle and scrubbed the wall clean. True to his word, Thoughtful took his place at the tread-wheel while Seeker hauled sacks of grain. Then they switched. Thoughtful never complained—not even once.
They talked, trading stories over lunch and supper. At night, Thoughtful slept on a bedroll on Seeker’s floor. The days slipped by, and Sunday came. Seeker led him down into the ravine to see the stream.
“Can I stay another week?” Thoughtful asked. Seeker was glad for the company—almost enough to forget how badly he missed Beautiful.
Another week passed—then another—until harvest ended and Thoughtful had to return home.
When their shift ended, a messenger came with a request for them to report to Jabal’s office. They crossed the village together, and Seeker knocked.
“Come in.” It was Comfort’s voice. She sat at her father’s desk, a ledger open before her. With a small wave toward the high-backed chairs, she said, “Please—sit.”
Thoughtful glanced left, then right, before taking the chair next to Seeker.
“I’ve been watching you, Thoughtful,” she said. “And I’ve spoken with my father.”
Thoughtful shifted in his chair, the wood creaking beneath him.
“We both agree—you’ve worked as hard as anyone here, even Seeker. In Delight, everyone works hard.” She smiled. “And everyone gets paid a fair wage.” She glanced at her ledger. “Looks like you’ve earned forty silver. Take out rent, and that leaves twenty.” She slid a small pouch of coins across the desk to Thoughtful.
A broad grin spread across Thoughtful’s face.
“And Seeker,” she went on, “Since Thoughtful covered half the rent for two months, consider yourself paid up through next month.”
That evening, Thoughtful treated Seeker to a hearty bowl of stew at the tavern and a fresh-baked loaf of bread. They washed it down with pints of ale. Later, Thoughtful bought himself a pipe from the peddler, and the two sat on the bridge, legs dangling over the edge, smoking together.
“Here,” said Thoughtful. “Picked this up while you weren’t looking.” Seeker raised an eyebrow as Thoughtful handed him a book. The Fool’s Book of Patience.
“Just what I needed,” laughed Seeker.
Thoughtful set out early in the morning. Seeker hugged him tightly. “I’m glad you’re my brother. You’ll never know how much this meant to me.”
Thoughtful smirked. “Maybe one day you’ll put it in a book.” Then he turned and walked out of Delight.
