Aria Blackwing's Arc

Chapter 22 of 24

The next morning Aria and Derek carried tools out to the marked corners behind the cabin. Frost crusted the grass. The frame from the day before stood waiting, four posts set, the sill logs notched. Derek checked the pegs while Aria sorted nails from the tin. They worked without talking. The birds inside were quiet. The tree line held still. By mid-morning they had raised the first wall stud. Aria held it plumb while Derek drove the peg. Her arms ached. She liked the ache. It meant the room was becoming a room. A branch cracked on the path. Aria's hand went to the knife at her belt. Derek straightened. The old man stepped out of the trees with a woven basket hooked on his arm. He raised his free hand as if to say he was only himself. "I brought what I could carry," Eldric said. He set the basket on the sill log. Inside were apples, carrots, two cloth sacks of flour, a wedge of hard cheese, a bundle of dried fish, and a small cloth pouch tied with red thread. He lifted the pouch out. "Willow bark," he said. "For the arm. The woman at the market said you traded for some. I thought you might want more before the snow." Derek looked at Aria. Aria looked at the basket. "You walked from the village," she said. "Half a day. I started before light." She took the pouch. His fingers were cold. She noticed how thin his wrist was inside the cardigan sleeve. "Sit," she said. "Eat with us." They ate on the sill log. Derek broke the cheese into three pieces. Eldric chewed slowly. He watched the frame the way a man watches a fire. "You need a second man on that top plate," he said. "I can hold a rope steady. I can't lift." "Hold the rope," Derek said. The old man stood and took the line. Aria climbed the ladder. Derek guided the beam up from below. Eldric braced the pulley rope against his hip and leaned back with his weight. His arms shook. He held. The beam settled into the notch. Derek drove the peg. Aria came down the ladder and found Eldric sitting on the sill log again, breathing hard, smiling. "That was hers too," he said. "The holding. She used to hold things for me." Aria sat beside him. The question she had kept behind her teeth for two days pressed against them. "Who was your daughter's mother," she said. He looked at her. His eyes filled but did not spill. "Not the one you're asking about," he said. "But my sister was. Your mother was my sister." Aria set the willow bark down on the sill log. The wall stood behind them, half a room, open to the sky. She had asked. He had answered. The sanctuary now held a person she could not send back into the trees.