“Hey, where’s that kid?” he asked. “The runaway?”

“Don’t worry about him.” The others shrugged. “The Blessed’ll find him and take him home.”

“Either that or he’ll throw himself off the cliff,” said the leader, and the rest snickered.

Draconas looked back and saw the boy still standing in the shadows, leaning up against the building. Draconas wondered how many of the “blessed” children had flung themselves off that cliff onto the sharp rocks far below.

“C’mon,” said the leader. “Race you home!”

Draconas proved remarkably fast, for a girl.

13

WHEN ANTON AND ROSA RETURNED FROM WORK, THEY FOUND Draca puttering about the small house, doing chores. The widow dropped by to tell them that when she had checked on the child, Draca had been fast asleep. Rosa was pleased with Draca’s unlooked-for help around the house and invited her to assist with their supper. As the two chatted and laughed while preparing the simple meal, Anton sat at the table, waiting to eat, and thought about their daughter, who had been gone so many years. It was good to see Rosa with a child again, good to hear her laugh. He sighed deeply. Rosa seemed to have put all thought of sending Draca back to the Blessed out of her mind.

After supper, Anton rose and headed for the door.

“Husband, where are you going?” Rosa asked in astonishment.

“There will be moonlight tonight,” Anton returned. “Between that and the light of the forge, I can work a little longer.” He paused, then said heavily, “The Blessed were not pleased by my output. They expected more.”

“You are exhausted!” Rosa protested. “You cannot work this night. Come, sit and rest. You will go to work with the first light tomorrow.”

Anton smiled ruefully. “I will be doing that, as well. Probably for the next few days.”

“Draca,” said Rosa casually, catching her husband’s eye. “We need more water. Would you run to the well for me?”

Draca obediently picked up the bucket and went out the door. She ran to the well, which was close by, and then ran back. She did not enter, but leaned near the open window, looking and listening.

“This war is being undertaken for our own good, Wife. Our own defense.”

“Do the Blessed think we are going to be attacked?” Rosa asked, alarmed.

“They hint as much, though they don’t say outright.”

“But . . . who would attack us? And why? We’ve done nothing to anyone!”

“I don’t know.” Anton shook his head. “There is no doubt that the Blessed are preparing for war.”

“And who will fight? Will they? Will you? Our people? We know nothing about such things.” Rosa’s cheeks reddened, her eyes flashed. “Two hundred years, this city has been in existence, and all those years we’ve lived in peace. Why now? What has changed? We’ve seen no sign of any enemy—”