Page 106 of Traitor Son

“Eighteen hundred and forty miles by boat,” she replied. Remin looked down at her in surprise.

“How many miles over land?”

“3,472 to the border of Argence.” Ophele looked up at him with her best solemn-owl face, as if everyone memorized mileage charts. “Why?”

“Black plums and white cherries might be considered luxuries, if they can’t be had outside Segoile,” he said. Her eyes lit up.

“We could grow them here and sell them?”

“I don’t see why not. But I also know nothing of orchards.”

“Different trees need different soil, and they do something called grafting to put the branches of one tree on another, though I don’t knowwhy.” The words tumbled over each other in her excitement. “At least they do with apples. Didn’t Master Didion say we would have a small orchard by the house?”

“On the east slope, yes. You want apples handy?”

“And peaches,” she said, giving him a full, beautiful smile that made Remin feel as if the air had suddenly filled with wine.

“We’ll mention it to him,” he managed, setting his heels to his horse and making her grab for his arm as the black beast sprang forward. She was just full of surprises.

It looked like ghouls had been chewing on the west end of the palisade, judging by the shape of the bite marks, and after confirming that a six-foot stretch of wall would have to be replaced, Tounot rode with them to look at the prospective orchard site with Auber. It felt a little ridiculous, once they got there. Three knights sitting on their horses, looking at a hilly bit of forest, agreeing that sure, it looked as if fruit trees might grow there. What did any of them know? Orchards were to farming what siegeworks were to swordsmanship: adjacent, not overlapping.

“We’ll have to send for someone to manage it,” Auber said, nudging his bay forward into the trees. “Though at some point you’re going to have to look at some short-term investments, Rem. Everything we’re building isn’t going to turn a profit for a long time. I don’t know much about orchard trees, but I know you won’t see a harvest for a while. Trees take a long time to grow.”

“I have heard that,” Tounot agreed gravely, as Ophele flushed pink. An arborist they had consulted about the huge oak at the manor site had all but promised his firstborn child if they would preserve it until he could come see it personally. Apparently, any oak thirty-five feet wide was likely to be very old indeed. Ophele’s words had been making a circuit of the town ever since, to be trotted out whenever it was even vaguely appropriate.

“Maybe if you started with older trees?” she offered hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure whether they were making fun or not. “Since Master Didion is bringing in older cherry trees and maples anyway…”

“Valleth’s paying,” Remin said with a shrug and a great deal of internal satisfaction. Valleth’s invasion had destroyed the valley, it seemed only fair that they should pay to restore it. “I wonder if there’s anything left of the old orchards. Do we have any old maps of the valley?”

“We’d have to send for copies,” Tounot replied. “Edemir wouldn’t have much use for maps a hundred years out of date.”

“There were old orchards?” Ophele asked, looking intrigued.

“The valley was settled, before,” Remin explained. They had found the remains of many towns and burned-out cities over the course of the war, charnel offerings to Valleth’s Lord of Tales. Even worse, Valleth hadn’t even done anythingusefulwith all that dreadful magic. Squandered, all of it, on the infighting between warlords.

“Someone said something about finding orchards…three years ago?” Tounot remembered. “When we were pushing into the mountain passes, going for the forts.”

“Victorin,” Auber said. “Victorin and his men found them. Apples of the gods, he said, but then they were hungry at the time.”

“I’d like to find those,” Remin said slowly. Victorin’s apples. That would be a good thing to have to remember him by. “Remind me, when we get back. We’ll send out some inquiries.”

That was the first step to any new project in the valley, and they wandered among the low hills for a little while, speculating how long it would take to clear the forest, and how long it might take for fruit trees to be transported to the valley, particularly if they were coming from Benkki Desa. Maybe he should see about acquiring some Benkki Desans to tend them.

“The caravan’s ready for your inspection, Rem,” Tounot said as they were turning back toward Tresingale. “If you want to take a look, it’s on the way.”

If Tounot had a fault, it was that he had a knack for saying the exact thing that Remin least wanted to be said.

“I’ll look later,” he said shortly, trying to communicate with his eyes that this was not a subject he wanted to discuss in front of his wife.

“The blacksmiths have been arguing about it with the carpenters,” Tounot went on, blissfully oblivious to these signals. “They’re trying to get the weight down, but if it’s going to last all the way to Ferrede and keep the devils out, then it can’t be too—”

“Devils?” Ophele echoed, looking up at Remin with a flicker of disquiet. One night’s conversation had not allayed all her fears.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said stiffly. He still hadn’t decided whether to tell her about the expedition to Ferrede; he might notbe going at all, and he was almost positive that even if he was, such purely military matters were no business of a noblewoman. In any case, he knew she was still scared of the devils and he didn’t want to bring up the possibility that he might have to leave unless it was actually going to happen.

Remin was pretty sure that ship had just sailed. No, Tounot hadlaunchedit and then fired flaming arrows into it.

“I’ll meet you there,” he told Tounot and Auber, spurring his horse toward the gate and giving Tounot a glare that promised later reprisal.

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