Free Dust and Water: A Song For The Stained Novella (A MAGICAL SAGA) by Cassandra Webb Page A

using magic.
    A shiver runs through me. All the more reason to give them some space. When they’re out of sight, I load up and labour on down the road. Hauling loads like this is one of the reasons I look like an eight-year-old, even though I’m fourteen. Always carrying heavy stuff; and Pa’s strict one meal a day policy. I stopped wondering a long time ago what life would have been like if my ma and da had survived. Since Pa is my mother’s father, maybe she would have been a hard-ass too. Not sure about my father, though – don’t even know who he was. I have one treasure from them, hidden away in my little cellar space, under Pa’s tavern. All my memories began with them already gone and Pa ruling my world.
    Good thing I’ve always been smarter than him.
    I have to pick up the pace or I’ll be out here all night, and I begin doing a shuffle-run move as the evening chill settles in my bones.
    The middle of bandit country is marked by the Meadowsblade homestead. It’s not the safest place to live, but there is a healthy brood of males there, a lot of sons, and I guess their enough to keep the place safe.
    I notice the girl’s white horse in their yard. She’s not one of theirs; you get to know the look of folk around here. Not just their clothes, but also their walk, their tone of voice, the glint in their eyes. I’d pick her for being seventeen, maybe eighteen. Not that much older than me really, and I just can’t imagine her being of interest to one of the Meadowsblade sons. What the hell is she doing there?
    I keep running; the sun in my eyes as it nears the tops of the trees.
    What? Did she just wander in and ask to spend the night?
    Why not? I want to try it.
    How many times have I run back from bandit country to Argeish with more than I can carry, only to arrive after mealtime and too late to even bother sleeping?
    I near the next gate, the Rathernfen homestead. My memory aches with effort, but I can’t seem to think of a single fact about them. Loads of kids, as everyone around here seems to have, farming family, still in bandit country. That’s all I know.
    Can I go and ask for a place to sleep? Why the sheep-pellets not?
    I almost lose my load trying to untie the rope-latch and let myself in. Then I get two steps towards the house before a big scary dog comes bounding towards me. I back up, just one step before he tackles me to the ground. My load forgotten about, shirts and boots going everywhere, the mutt growls, teeth brush against my nose, then dives for a shirt and starts tearing it to shreds.
    “Hey, stop that!” I jump to my feet and am about to pounce on the things back.
    “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” some girl says.
    “He’s eating my money, stop him,” I shout.
    “It’s just a shirt.”
    I turn to face her, just a girl. Yep, a fluffy, pig-tailed-girl. Sure, she looks to be about my age but that means nothing when it comes to how smart a person is.
    “Girl, stop him.”
    Four horses amble into the yard. All ridden by boys, the one with the beard and scars on his arms must be their dad.
    He lets out a long, low, whistle and the dog runs towards him.
    “We don’t want no trouble around here,” the man calls out. “So you’d best be going.”
    I straighten from trying to bundle my hoard back into some carry-able pile.
    “Not till you pay me for that shirt,” I say, tossing the ruined item at him.
    One of the son’s, all ginger hair and a big frown, rides towards me. “Didn’t you hear my da, vultures aren’t welcome around here. Jenny get inside,” he orders his sister.
    She folds her arms but obeys. Of course she obeys, spineless.
    “Coin for the shirt,” I say. “Either that, or let me sleep in your barn for the night.”
    I look the father in the eye, even though they are on horses bigger than me, and the two sons are bigger than me, all trying to intimidate me and make me move towards the gate.
    The father looks towards the setting sun. “Just