A carriage rumbled up the street and through the partially open gate. Dell’s chest deflated as his stepmother appeared.

She scowled when she saw him.

“What are you doing, you worthless boy? Standing around? Those stables had better be mucked by lunch and then you’re to head to the docks. One of our vessels has arrived, and you’re to help in getting the goods to the warehouse.”

Think, Dell. He flicked his eyes back to the barn.

“Something isn’t right with moth—with the cow.” He forced a concerned frown onto his face after almost calling the cow mother.

“What’s this you’re talking about?” she asked harshly.

The cow was the most prized possession they owned. In the mountainous Madra, only the wealthy had cows. Poorer folk kept goats. Some occasionally had a horse. But few had cows. And it was his ticket to that meeting.

He nodded, a frown turning his lips down. “She’s not producing milk.”

“It,” his stepmother said. “The cow is not a person. Not a she. Why isn’t it producing milk?”

“I don’t know. We need to fetch Redden Martin.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Take a horse and fetch the cow man.”

By “cow man”, she meant the one person they knew in Madra who worked with cows and kept them in good health. He lived in a small one-room shack across the city.

Dell ran into the barn, thankful his stepmother didn’t follow him. She stayed out of the barn except when it came time to harass him.

He considered the full buckets of milk sitting outside the cow’s stall; thankful he hadn’t carried them to the house yet. Glancing out the door, he didn’t see his stepmother, so he hauled the buckets two at a time to the small stream that ran behind the barn. The back wall of the estate had been built directly over it.

If anyone caught him dumping cow’s milk, he’d be in serious trouble. It was worth too much in a city that lived on goat’s milk, olives, and grapes. Meat could sometimes be hard to come by during wartime. Another consequence of the king’s actions. Trade had grown more difficult. The merchants climbing the spiral were the ones who still seemed to be able to get their goods from kingdoms torn apart by fighting.

Once the milk was gone, he hurried to saddle Ian and climbed on. He kicked his heels into the horse’s flanks and took off.