Yerik nodded and smiled.

Gran patted his arm. “Yes. I see you remember the game I madeof it, when you were a small boy. Leave me Mibya and her sister. I’ll need themto start pots of soup for everyone. We’ll eat together once the crop is safelyinside.”

“Good.” He rubbed his hoary beard and nodded. “That will freeup more of the women to help. The rain may hold off until middle night. It has that look. Still, we’ll get the crop in as quickly as we can. Remember Lharisand his son are out hunting. They should return with meat.”

“Should,” she agreed with a smile. “We won’t count on it,though.”

“No, but old Mikati swears he saw an entire herd of deer onthe northeast plain two days ago. You know Lharis. If there’s a herd anywherenear, he’ll bring in at least one.”

“I will count deer only when I can touch them,” Gran replied.“I’d welcome meat, but if not, we’ll manage. We always do.” She gazed at theeastern sky with visible misgivings. “I wish I liked the look of this morningbetter.”

“You”-he eyed her sidelong-“recall a day like this?”he asked tentatively, emphasizing the word that also meant accessing the oral village history passed down to her, mother to daughter, wisewoman to apprentice, for all the years Upper Haven had been a village.

She shrugged. “No. I’m merely worried. We know the weatherhas been erratic all year, and it will play us foul if it can. Go, shoo.”

Yerik nodded absently. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, and she doubted he’d heard her. “Do you see an omen?” he whispered.

“None of that!” she hissed.