Roslyn's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Silas worked the blade against a wheel in the corner of the cabin while Roslyn stood by the door and tried not to stare. The cabin was one room. A cot, a table, a log open to a blank page, a row of pegs hung with rope and tools. He did not speak while he worked. She watched the chips lift off the edge and the steel come back clean. When he held the sword up to the lamp, she saw a rose now cut along the blade, fine lines wrapped around the old notch where the tip had struck the stone. He had not added the rose for her. The rose had been under the rust the whole time. "Done," Silas said. He set the sword on the table between them. "Tell the cook it cuts now. Mind the notch. That came from frozen rock. It will not sharpen out." Roslyn picked up the blade. It was lighter than when she carried it in. She had counted on the walk back being long. She had counted on a second errand, a borrowed cloth, a question about the notch. He had answered the question before she asked it. She stepped to the door and made her hand open it. "Thank you," she said. He nodded once and turned back to the wheel. Outside, the cold hit her bare arms. She had two steps before the path. She took one and stopped. A wooden bird feeder stood on a post beside the door, its roof dusted with snow, seed scattered on the ground beneath it. The seed was untouched. No tracks. No birds in the pines. She had passed the feeder coming in and not noticed. She noticed now because the yard was quiet in a way a yard with seed should not be. She turned back and knocked. Silas opened the door with the nunchuck in his hand again. She held the sword flat across both palms so he would see she was not using it as her excuse. "Your feeder is full," she said. "Nothing has touched it. I walked from the well and did not hear a bird the whole way." His face changed. It was the first time she had made his face change. He looked past her at the pines, then at the seed, then at her. "Come back inside," Silas said. "Sit down. Tell me what else you heard and did not hear. Start at the tavern yard." He stepped aside. Roslyn carried the sword in with her and set it on the table a second time. He shut the door, took down the log from the peg, and opened it to the blank page. He uncapped his ink. He was not looking at her like a girl on his step. He was looking at her like a witness.