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thought sadly, and her delicate siblings not long after. They weren’t made for the North, and Aardanel was no place for compassion.
    The single boy lingered, staring at the ground, shuffling his feet, holding tight to something strung on a cord about his neck. He was young, but his face was hard, sharp, grim, a face that had seen too much bad and not near enough good. His eyes, when he lifted them to Parro Kerrus, showed the onlysoftness, a plea that burned through him. There was a fire in his heart, one that would not be extinguished as easily as in those softer children. His hand dropped to his side, revealing the painted flamedisk around his neck, the symbol of the Parents’ endless compassion.
    â€œThey say the Mother’s turned her back on this place,” the boy said quietly, a quavering note winding through the words. “That Patharro’s closed his eyes on us. Is it true?”
    That was a question Kerrus had not been asked in a long while. Most of those who came to Aardanel had given up or turned away from the Parents long since, and any seeking spiritual guidance were few and far between. “What’s your name, boy?”
    â€œBrennon.”
    â€œWell, Brennon. They say, too, that the Parents only turn away from silence. I’ve spoken to them every day these past forty years, lad. They’ll not turn away from this place so long as I have breath left in me.” He gave the boy an assessing look, and a pointed glance to the flamedisk. “Will you pray with me, child? Help me keep the Parents’ attention on this sad corner of the world?”
    They knelt on opposite sides of the everflame, and as Kerrus began his prayer, Scal ghosted out from the shadows and knelt between them, ever to Kerrus’s right, hands folded like a practiced penitent. Brennon gave him a startled look, then snapped his eyes shut as Kerrus raised his voice sternly. “Divine Mother, Almighty Father, shapers of the earth and keepers of the flame, we ask you hear our hearts. Gentle Metherra, we offer you our fears and beg you soothe them. Stalwart Patharro, we give our hearts unto your keeping, and beg you keep the darkness atbay. Holy Parents, we give you all that we are, and ask only for your shelter, now and for always. We are the tenders of the flame, and we keep it burning in your honor. Mother preserve us, and Father shield our souls.” He threw a small packet of herbs and kindling into the everflame, sending up a fragrant puff of smoke, and gave one each to Brennon and Scal. The boys, equally solemn, threw in their own packets, Brennon murmuring softly. Kerrus rested a hand on each of their shoulders, adding a silent prayer. Keep them happy, Tender Metherra. Keep them from breaking, Loving Patharro. Let them find some joy in this cold, dark place.
    â€œThank you, Parro,” Brennon said quietly, rubbing smoke from his eyes.
    â€œAny time, lad,” Kerrus said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “And remember what I said. If you need anything, even just to talk, come to me. And Scal here, too. He’s a fine listener. You’re not alone, Brennon.” He gave the boy a gentle push toward the door. “Best get back to your parents now, lad.”
    At the door Brennon paused, eyes lingering on Scal, and the little Northman stared right back. It had been too long since Kerrus’s childhood, and he couldn’t decipher the look matched in each set of young eyes; not quite a challenge, not exactly unfriendly. Sizing each other up, perhaps. Brennon was the first to turn away, sliding out through the doorway, and Kerrus almost thought he saw a trace of a smile on the boy’s face. Impossible. Aardanel was no place for a smile.
    With a dozen new mouths to feed, Kerrus found himself scouring his root cellar much more often, loading up Scal’s basket with stunted carrots, miniature cabbages, and shrunkenonions. The saddest part was that everyone would be grateful for