Bob took the drawings back inside to study them, his brow furrowed, muttering to himself as his fingers traced the curves and structures on the paper.
Loa watched the old blacksmith walk away and smiled, but his thoughts were on something else.
Wushan Town. He had not been back for a while.
Early the next morning, he bought a few things-a few flasks of good wine, several packages of pastries from the city, and some cloth the elderly could use. He tied them into a bundle, slung it over his shoulder, and headed out.
The road from Fenlai City to Wushan Town was not particularly long. Loa did not ride a horse; he went on foot. He could now travel as fast as a horse, with more freedom besides.
The town looked the same as ever. Flagstone roads, low houses, old people sitting beside the streets in the sun. Seeing him return, a few acquaintances took a second look, recognized Loa, and greeted him with smiles.
He went from house to house, visiting the elders who had watched him grow up. He handed over his gifts, sat down for a cup of water, and listened to them chatter about family affairs. Whose child had done well, whose family had welcomed another grandchild, how the town's harvest was that year... They were all ordinary, trivial things, but hearing them was reassuring.
Catching up and chatting, he would sit for an hour at a time.
Last, he went to the small hill behind town.
The hill was quiet, with only the wind and birdsong. Old Jack's grave lay beneath an old pine halfway up the slope, and it had been kept reasonably tidy.
Loa crouched down, pulled a few weeds beside the grave, and poured the wine he had brought before the