. . .

Vaenwode goes to his father. His father looks at him with a face like stone.

“I’m leaving,” Vaenwode says. “But I have left the fire burning, and the soup-pot on. If you have ever loved me, you will tend it; you will keep it burning, and the kettle on. And each day, for thirteen moons, you will stir it; and say to it, ‘gold, gold, come out,’ and we shall see what happens then.”

His father’s mouth twists. He does not answer.

He looks away.

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