Rune’s contact seemed unimpressive: short and apparently uncomfortable in his ill-fitting clothing—an outfit meant for a human form, though this Morty Grindle was anything but. Some might take his heavy brow and broad back as evidence of limited intelligence, but Rune saw the glint in his eye.

The waymaker said he needed to meet this man. If he wanted to get along in this new world, he’d need contacts, and Morty Grindle had the reputation of knowing just about everybody.

“You settled in, then?” he said. He swallowed a bite of stew. On the other side of the room, a band played “Creep” by Radiohead on tin whistle and hurdy-gurdy.

Rune just shrugged.

“It takes a while,” Morty continued. “The Fallow ain’t like home, but it ain’t bad. Have you tried ice cream yet?”

“Just last week,” Rune said. “My landlord’s daughter calls it ‘comfort food.’”

“That ain’t far wrong. You got a favorite flavor?”

“So far I’ve only tried strawberry. It was quite good.” Rune took a sip of his yaupon tea, grateful that Gamaufry Tavern had at least some of the pleasures of home. “I’ve always loved strawberries. My mother kept a strawberry patch. Or I should say, the servants did, out behind the carriage house. I used to sneak away to visit them. Clervie fed me strawberries.”

“You won’t have no problem finding strawberries around here in the summer. Servants…that’s another thing.”

“I understand. Fallow folk have machines to do their work. Servants are…out of fashion, I suppose.”

“Yeah, that’s a nice way of saying it. But I could tell from looking at you you’d come from a house with servants.”

“We had three cabins full,” Rune said. “Clervie and Malunthy and their children. And then there were Dollick and Caelia who looked after the grounds and gardens. And then when Caelia was expecting their first baby, Mother brought on Quamp and Cabma to help them.”

“And you got with them all? ‘Cause I gotta warn you, folks in the Fallow will judge you if you start acting like you’re better than other people.”

Rune paused. Things had changed, and quite abruptly, when he took leave of the King of Shadows. Back home, he’d now be considered an outlaw. Clervie and the rest were now his betters, at least by Saynim’s strict code of honor.

“Just fine,” he said. “Maybe too good.”

Morty sat there, waiting for him to say more.

“I was young. I didn’t understand that the son of Herdis of the house of Claea wasn’t supposed to rub elbows with the help. Let’s just say strawberries were a rare treat.”

“A little rebel, huh?” Morty chuckled. “I hope hanging out with the help didn’t get you in no trouble.”

“Not…directly.”

“Not directly?”

Rune sighed. “Clervie and Malunthy’s youngest was about my age. Jussie. We would play together in the vineyards. Somehow Mother got it into her head that… I mean, it’s ridiculous. We were only thirteen years old.”

“She thought there might be something developing between you two?”

He nodded. “She turned her into a fawn.”

Morty’s mouth dropped open.

Rune stared at his stew. His face warmed.

“I’m sorry. You mean she just…”

“You heard what I said.” Rune took another sip of tea and collected his thoughts. “She kept her that way for a week. Her parents were beside themselves. When Mother finally turned her back, she told me I should be grateful she didn’t do worse”

Morty took a long drink of his beer. “That’s…something.”

“That’s my mother.”