The Farmer's Wife #021

From a little way away, Thanos spoke. "I appreciate your desire to perform good works, Brother Valdis, but if I understand you correctly, there is nothing more to be gained here."

Valdis gestured to were Anat stood beside the child, still praying. "There is a child's life to be saved, Brother. I would call that something gained."

Thanos shook his head. "The child should be in the care of a Temple, and we should be on our way. If we do not leave this black forest now, we will still be here come nightfall."

Valdis sighed angrily, but inclined his head towards Thanos. "You are right. It would be unwise to wait here any longer. When Brother Anat finishes his prayers, we will leave."

Thanos did not even look satisfied; he simply nodded and turned away.

Valdis and Matthias sat, waiting patiently for Anat to finish. When the old man looked up, his eyes were sad. "The child still lives somewhere within, but his spirit is... buried. Suffocated. If I am to do anything for him, it will take time."

Valdis nodded. "Bring him, then. He can walk well enough. Let us get out of this wretched place."

They picked up their torches from where they had left them and set off. Valdis led the way; he had always had a good sense of direction.

The boy walked where Matthias led him, but he stumbled over every root and half-fell into every crack in the ground. Eventually Matthias gave his torch to Anat and picked the child up; he was light, and lay limply in his arms.

The feel of the boy in his arms reminded Matthias of his brief training with the Beneficari at the Temple. A child from the nearby village had been taken by illness, a creeping, gnawing sickness that had proved beyond Aleia's power to heal. He had been sick for many months before it finally took him, and it had left him wasted and gaunt.

When the Beneficari came to perform the final rites over the body and lay the boy out for the funeral, it had fallen on Matthias to carry the boy from his deathbed to where they were to do their work. The boy had felt lighter than he should be, and limp, just as this boy now felt.

The thought of that day sent a chill up Matthias' spine. He had never doubted more the beneficence of the Silver Crown than that day, with that child in his arms.

Anya walked up to his side. Her face was still wet with tears.

"He looks... so sad." She reached out to brush the child's face with her hand.

Matthias frowned. "He just looks... empty... to me."

She smiled grimly. "You have no children of your own?"

"No."

"Of course not. You're too young."

He gestured to his cassock. "That is not the only reason."

"Oh. Of course. I am sorry."

Of all the things she had said, that was what she was sorry for?

"If you were a father, you would know. That look..."

He inclined his head politely, but said nothing. He did not think she would have heard him if he had spoken; her eyes were fixed on the child. They walked like that in silence for some time, and then she choked back a sob and turned away.