“I’m…” The man licked his lips and shook his head slightly. Then, after a brief silence, finished with, “Hendrik.”
“Of the Stone City,” Dagan repeated, just to be sure.
“No,” said the man. “Well, I was. How did you know?”
“The accent.” Dagan moved closer, examining Hendrik more thoroughly now the danger seemed mostly removed from the situation. Very tall, actually, and well-muscled in spite of the ragged state of his clothes and hair. A face composed of flat planes and angles that might’ve been carved from wood or stone and never quite polished off for softness, obvious even under the scraggly, brown beard. He was altogether handsome, Dagan decided, but the eyes were positively magical. “And the camp. You’re not used to this life, are you?”
Hendrik looked over his shoulder at the sad structure. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Oh, darling, everything.” Dagan gave a little sigh. “I can help you with a new one, if you like. Or you could come with me; I’m charged to bring refugees back to—”
“Refugee?” Hendrik cut in sharply.
Dagan frowned. “Are you not a refugee?”
“I’m no….” But he trailed off, shaking his head. “Refugees come from the other side of the City. From the wastes. Or the mountain. Not from the City.”
“Well, perhaps, when you’re actually inside the City. But as you can see…” Dagan gestured to the trees around them.
Hendrik nodded tightly.
Dagan waited for him to reply to the previous question about how he could be of service.
Hendrik just looked at him, up and down, and not in the way Dagan enjoyed being looked at by handsome men. His bright eyes were hooded, alert. Suspicious.
“What are you, then?” Dagan finally asked.
“What?”
Dagan wondered if perhaps Hendrik wasn’t too bright. It was sometimes the way, with the big, burly types. The forest gods wouldn’t be so unfair as to endow one of their creations with every good thing, would they? How would the rest of them get anywhere in life? “What are you, if you’re not a refugee, Hendrik? I’m trying to decipher how I can assist you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s my job.”
“What’s your job?”
“I’m a scout of the Heart Wood.” This time, Dagan spoke slowly, enunciating as if speaking to a toddler. “And if you’d be so good as to tell me what you are, that would be very helpful.”
Hendrik’s sharp jaw worked for a moment. Then he slipped the little knife into a makeshift sheath at his waist and said, “I guess I’m nothing, now.”
“And when did you come to the Heart Wood, little nothing?” Dagan slung the bow and then his pack off his back, then knelt before them.
Hendrik gave a snort. “I’m little?”
He was most certainly not, being a good six inches taller and far broader than Dagan, but, “Would you rather be a big nothing? That just sounds cruel.”
Hendrik cocked an eyebrow but, thankfully, didn’t argue. “I guess a few moons. It’s almost new again.”
“Buck Moon is waning. It’ll be the Grain Moon,” Dagan said, in case that helped.
It didn’t seem to. “Is there a city around here? Is that who you’re scouting for?”
“The nearest settlement is a four-day hike at least,” Dagan said. “I scout for the Heart Wood Council. That’s sort of the central authority of the forest.”
Hendrik’s eyes narrowed. “The dark forest.”
“It gets quite dark when the sun goes down and the moon is new, yes,” Dagan said, bemused.
“I thought you must be from…somewhere else. This Heart Wood.”
“The Heart Wood is the only wood.” Dagan tried to sound reassuring, but he had not been prepared for this moment as well as he’d hoped, apparently. “The dark forest is your name for it, then?”
Hendrik nodded.
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it’s really not all that dark most times. And seeing as you’ve been camping on the fringes of it for some time and you’re still here, there’s clearly nothing to fear.”
“What about the river?”
Dagan frowned. “Yes, you must’ve crossed the estuary. Do they know what’s happening to it, in the City?”
“No. They said you were doing it.” Hendrik lifted his chin almost defiantly.
Dagan somehow kept from laughing, though he did smile. “Of course they did, little someone.”
“Thought I was nothing,” Hendrik replied with surprising quickness.
“Well, you’re clearly someone and you just don’t want to tell me who, so, until such a time as you feel prepared to do so, you can be a little someone,” Dagan allowed.
