He had decided it was best if both of Ilona’s bottom steps were replaced, and wanted to be certain he selected the strongest planks for their construction. There were tools aplenty in the wagon as well as wood, spare ropes, harnesses, fittings, pots of axle grease, spokes; medicaments for humans, horses, draft animals; whole oilcloth canopies as well as patches, gut, and awls for stitching the heavy cloth, silk thread and needles for stitching more fragile flesh; lamp oil, lanterns, kindling; spare clothing, leather, bedding, and much more. The light was poor, but his eyes saw better in the dark than those of humans, and his hands read tales of the wood. He had only to smooth his sensitive fingertips over the surface, brushing grain, knots, blemishes, and he knew the name of the tree that had rendered up its skin, its heart, its life. Humans wouldn’t understand; they would believe he meant the name that indicated what kind of tree it was. Had been. But Rhuan, touching wood, learned the personal and private name of the elderling who once had lived, who had given up that life for a wholly human need.
