The people still in Threpin Village seemed like they would be more than happy to have Idunnir stay, regardless of potential difficulties. Which made perfect sense. However, it also left Caius in a bit of a bind.

  He wanted to move on from the town in the near future, and he also wanted Idunnir to come with him. Although the fact that she would have a choice was definitely a good thing, the idea of being anyone's only hope gave Caius anxiety.

  So he had to exert himself to make a genuine effort. Step one would be to find out all he could about this tea Idunnir depended on. Emotionally he was... passable... that day, but if he stopped moving for too long he would probably get stuck and spiral. Praying for strength and steeling his nerve, he began talking to people.

  Talking to strangers was exhausting as always, but he'd had practice. His "talking to people" face proved effective here as well as in the old world. Friendly, polite, a bit goofy. He made sure to ask every person about themselves, which was highly effective.

  Everyone loved to talk about themselves, but these people all knew each other and had been cooped up in a fort for over a week. He was a brand new audience, apparently eager to hear all the old jokes and anecdotes. Well, he found most of the anecdotes genuinely interesting as a window into this culture.

  He was still figuring out the humor here, but he was excellent at faking laughter when he needed to. And some things transcended culture, like the story of that one summer when the butcher whose name Caius failed to recall and Ippa the... actually Ippa seemed to be a sort of handyman.

  Anyway, those two had a fight and both refused to apologize first. This resulted in an escalating series of petty and amusing incidents, the climax of which was when the butcher's roof sprang a leak. Ippa, of course, was the first choice in the village when it came to fixing roofs.

  The end result was the butcher climbing onto his roof to fix it himself. While Ippa stood across the street and loudly provided color commentary. Eventually the butcher gave up and threw a shingle at Ippa, successfully striking the handyman right in the gut. And the throw disturbed the butcher's balance, sending him rolling off the roof to land painfully on the street. As both men lay groaning, they finally decided to move on from their quarrel.

  Listening to the story, and especially Asny the washerwoman's impassioned delivery of it, had Caius laughing until his stomach ached.

  Eventually he discovered that all his attempts to curry information out of people were completely pointless. Jovis the herb-gatherer was one of the people who had remained behind in Threpin. Of course it had taken an hour before anyone realized that Caius, the man who was inquiring about herbs, didn't know Jovis. A five minute conversation would have gotten him that information if he knew enough to ask.

  But frustrating as that was, he couldn't quite chalk up the socializing as a waste of time. Exhausted as he was from all the socializing, he was feeling better. These were good people, true salt-of-the-earth types.

  He was grateful to enjoy some relative peace and quiet afterwards. Apparently Jovis spent most of his time outside the fort despite the danger. So Caius followed directions to the man's house. It was near the exterior wall, and there was a very sturdy door in the wall nearby. Basically a sally port.

  The correct house could be identified by "that rock of his." Indeed, it was quite eye-catching since it was inside the village. Fairly large and flat, just big enough for two people to sit on. It was in the shadow of the house at this hour of the morning.

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  Jovis was the oldest-looking man Caius had seen since his arrival, and by a significant margin. Healthy for his age, but ancient. When Caius asked about herbs he was frostily informed that Jovis would be happy to talk... if Caius dragged the rock over to the sunny side of the house.

  Since that was physically impossible, Caius was forced to find an alternative solution. It was actually very easy, he just went to find Idunnir and asked her to move it for him. She agreed but even he could tell she was a bit sad as she did it. He asked Frida about it later and she informed him that Jovis had demanded the same of Marcus every time they came to town, and Idunnir had always done it for him too.

  Jovis stared at them through a window as Idunnir hefted up the rock and carefully moved it around the house to where the sun was shining. Caius stared at the feat as well, her impossible strength still amazed him.

  "You, boy. Come on in, I want to talk to you." Jovis called out as soon as the rock had been moved to his satisfaction.

  Much to Caius' surprise, the old man became quite... well not exactly friendly, but approachable. Jovis made them both tea and they sat down at a small table by the same window Jovis had been watching through. The old man was bundled up in some very warm clothes, but otherwise didn't seem too bothered by the cold.

  "Caius, was it? You aren't from around here." the old man said, with absolute confidence. Interesting that he picked that up so quickly, but Caius didn't deny it. He shared his story with a few details from the before.

  "How did you guess?" Caius asked once his abridged story was complete. Jovis answered easily: "Because you had the right expression when you saw her lift that rock." That explanation told Caius nothing, he had no idea what expression he had made. In fact he wasn't normally very expressive.

  But, as always, everyone loves to talk about themselves. Jovis started telling the story, as if he had finally found the right audience for it. Though it raised more questions than it answered.

  Jovis' story:

  I like your face, boy. You look like you think about things. And you're the only one I've seen who realizes how strange things are. The people around here will listen to me, they're polite, but they don't think about what I say. Not that I can blame them. Us old people have to talk about how things used to be, it's our job.

  I'm old. So very old. It'll be my seventy-sixth spring once the snow melts. My father died when he was fifty-four, heart gave out. I remember my grandfather, he wasted away and couldn't even get out of bed for the last year of his life. He was fifty-seven.

  When people get old, their memory starts to go. Like my Flavia... I lost her fifteen years ago. Those last few years...

  My memory has always been better than anyone else's. That's a fact. I remember everything important. I remember every word Flavia ever said to me, from the day we met. And I remember that thing's aren't quite the same.

  Everyone thinks I'm a fool, asking people to move that rock back and forth. Nobody ever thinks to ask why. I say it's because I want to sit in the sun or in the shade, they sigh and they go on.

  Originally that rock was just... just a fool thing I did when I was young and in love. That rock used to be on this hillside by the big road. Beautiful hillside, you can see the forest stretching out in front of you all the way to Bracwell.

  I was helping her and her folks take a wagonload of furs to Saltton. On the way back her and I... we had our first kiss sitting on that rock, staring out over the forest.

  So when we were going to be married, I had an idea. A fool idea, but it sounded romantic and when I asked her brothers to help me they thought it sounded romantic too. The three of us took the wagon and borrowed an ox to pull it. It was old Frida's... Frida's grandmother was also called Frida... old Frida's ox, and she sent her son along to take care of the beast.

  Good thing she did because it took all four of us to get that rock off the ground and on the wagon. The poor wagon barely made it back. Frida loved it, though she yelled at us for being stupid.

  Nowadays... nowadays when I want that rock moved any two grown boys in the village can move it. You watched Idunnir do it all by herself.

  It's different. Something's different.

  That tea... Marcus had his own recipe but everyone does, it makes little difference. My father taught me. Every step of the process, from picking the ingredients at the right time of year. Drying and preserving them, then brewing the tea. He said to pay attention, because if it turned blue that meant it was working.

  We could barely spot the color, had to use a bowl made of a light colored wood to see it.

  I do everything the same, like I have every year since. Now the tea glows and it's more blue than the summer sky.