Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 95 of 150

Ben walked the mill road behind the two guards with the chest carried between the small creatures. Chilly Willy walked beside him and dripped blood into the dust. The cut over his eye had opened again on the shed step, and a second cut on his forearm bled through his sleeve where the rope had cut deep. He kept his good arm across the bad one and set his teeth. Every ten paces he slowed. Every twenty he stumbled. Ben watched the road ahead and counted the drops. Cage's mill was still an hour off. If Chilly Willy went down before the door, Ben could not lift his end of the chest alone. The small creatures could carry it between them, but not up the mill stair, and not past a guard who wanted to see a man on each handle. A collapsed partner at the gate would tell Cage's people that Ben had come alone, and alone meant robbed. He caught Chilly Willy's good elbow at the next stumble. "Stay up. One hour." "I know it." His face was gray. "Don't slow for me." A low roof showed through the alders on the left. A pot sat by the door and a green figure sat behind the pot, mending a strap. Tax Evasion looked up as they came even with the path. He did not stand. He looked at Chilly Willy's sleeve, then at the guards, then at Ben. "Bleeder," he said. "Won't make the mill." The lead guard turned. "Keep walking, old man." Tax Evasion did not move. "He drops, you carry. You carry, you're slow. Slow on this road brings company." He nodded at the trees. "Bind him here. Ten minutes." The guard looked at the trees. He looked at the chest. He looked back at Ben. "Ten," he said. "Then we walk." Tax Evasion took a strip of clean linen from inside his shell and a small pot of dark paste. He worked at the pace of a man setting a snare. He pressed the paste into the arm cut first, then the brow. He wrapped the arm tight and knotted it under the thumb. He did not speak while he worked. When he finished he set his hand flat on Chilly Willy's chest for a breath, then took it away. "Walk soft on the left leg," he said. "You'll reach the door." Chilly Willy stood without help. The bleeding had stopped at the wrap. His color was still bad, but his feet were under him. Ben laid a coin on the mending strap. Tax Evasion did not look at it. "Slow saves more than fast," he said, and went back to his stitch. They walked. Chilly Willy held his end. The mill roof rose above the pines ahead, and Cage's men stood at the gate.