I lifted a hand in a dismissive gesture. “That was the impression I got.” I was surprised that he cared.

“Do they know that the sadness and discouragement that overwhelms us here is from Speck magic?”

“I don’t know. They must suspect. What else could bring on a fear like that at the end of the road? They must know that’s Speck magic.” He spoke in a low voice. “The doctor wants Epiny to take the ‘Gettys tonic.’ She keeps refusing. He says that if she doesn’t, she will miscarry. Or that when the baby comes, she won’t be a fit mother to him.”

He fell silent. “And?” I prodded him.

“And he might be right,” Spink said heavily. “Not that many healthy children are born here, Nevare. And the women who do have children seem…flat. Exhausted. As if they can barely care for themselves, let alone their children.” “But Epiny seemed to have a great deal of energy. The way she’s organized all those women with whistles. Didn’t you say she was trying to hold classes or lessons…?” My questions trickled away as Spink shook his head. “She starts things. Every day, she gets up, saying that she’s not going to let it win. We both do. But by afternoon she is weeping, or we’ve had a quarrel, or worst of all, she simply sits and stares out of the window. This dark magic is devouring her, Nevare. It eats at me, but Epiny is more vulnerable to it. You remember what she once told us? That it was like a window had opened and she couldn’t shut it? The sadness comes in that window and Epiny’s life leaks away through it. I’m losing her, Nevare. Not to death, but to…sadness. Bleakness that never goes away. And for what? So that we can push a road through by the shortest possible route, regardless of what it does to the people who live here, or what they do to us in retaliation?”

He stood up slowly. The coffee had just begun to smell like coffee. He didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve got to go home to Epiny. I’m not going to tell her all of this, Nevare, but I am going to tell her that you are here and alive.” He walked toward the door.

“Spink—hold on a moment. Did Amzil give you my entire message? Did she tell you to send for more of your Bitter Springs water?”

He smiled sourly. “Nevare, you are so accustomed to life on the King’s Road, aren’t you? Bitter Springs is far more isolated. There is no regular courier run to my home. Sending a courier to Bitter Springs would cost me most of a month’s pay. And my message would not reach my brother until weeks from now, if it arrived at all. Add to that the time it would take for a wagon with casks of water to make the trip. With great luck, it might reach Gettys before next winter’s snow closed the road.”