'It's just for a year, Da,' he whispered. 'I'll only be gone a year. It ain't that long a time, really. And I'll be back afore y'know it. You'll see.'

The clock on the wall struck half past ten, loud chiming in the silence. The Rusty Anchor would be closing soon, and Jed was waiting with his knapsack and purse. He had to go. Asher leaned over the armchair, pressed a kiss to his father's weathered cheek and slipped out of the small stone cottage he and all his brothers had lived in from birth.

When he was sure it was safe to make a noise he stamped into his boots then hurried from shadow to shadow until he reached the Rusty Anchor. The pub was full, as usual. Asher pressed his nose to the bobbled windowpane, trying not to be seen, and. searched for Jed. Spying his friend at last amongst the crush of carousing fishermen, he tapped and waved and hoped Jed would notice him. Just as he was despairing, Jed leapt away from an enthusiastically swung arm, stumbled, turned, and saw him.

'I were about to give up on you!' his friend grumbled as he came outside, a fresh tankard of ale in his hand. 'You said ten o'clock, or soon after. It be nigh on closin' time now!'

'Don't look like y'missed me over much.' Asher swiped the tankard from Jed's clutches and took a deep swallow of cold, bitter ale. 'Did y'bring 'em?'

Jed snatched the tankard back. 'Course I brung 'em,' he said, rolling his eyes. 'I'm your friend, ain't I?'

'A friend would let me drink that tankard dry,' said Asher, grinning. 'It's a long ways between me and the next pub, and from the looks of you, one tankard more'll be one tankard too many.'

'Ain't no such thing,' said Jed. Then he relented. 'Here.' He shoved the tankard at him. 'Bloody bully. Now come on. I've stashed your things round the corner. If you stop

fritterin' my time and get along I'll manage a last mouthful meself afore the Anchor closes.'

Asher took the tankard. Good ole Jed. There wasn't another soul he'd have trusted his precious purseful of trins and cuicks to, or his goatskin of water and knapsack stuffed with cheese and apples and bread and clothes. Nor his dreams, neither. They'd been friends their whole lives, him and Jed. He'd even offered to take Jed to the City with him, but there'd been no need. Jed wasn't plagued with a school of brothers. He was all set to inherit his da's fishing boat in a few more years.

Lucky bastard.