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I looked at the farmer, startled at his question.
“Why?”
“Well, what they did seemed impossible. I had not heard of anything like it done by any farmer, skilled or not,” Farmer David certainly looked perplexed. “If Prince Metheus is who I believe he is, his mother was a powerful medium. Different spirits had taken control of her.”
“Was?”
“If he was that prince I saw as a young boy, then his mother had already died more than a decade ago.”
“Oh,” my heart went out to Metheus. He certainly did not mention his mother, but then again, he did not seem the type to share his thoughts that often.
“Have you been to Arrowspear, Farmer David?’
“I have. It was a long time ago.”
“What was it like?”
“It was arid but beautiful. Something changed, though, more than twenty years ago. The dry lands had become cooler, moister, and fertile.”
I wondered if what happened there was happening here now. But how? I remembered looking at Metheus suspiciously as he conveniently found a seedling sprouting beneath the surface.
Then, as we were about to leave the fields, we felt something. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but there it was again. A droplet. From the sky.
“Rain, Your Highness!” Francilia said, jumping up and down like a little girl.
Farmer David started laughing. I should have been jumping for joy, as well, but I felt frozen to the ground. The droplets were few and far between, a drizzle, but it made my heart constrict. What if we did not need the help of King Doro and Prince Metheus anymore? Instead of feeling free, I felt bereft.
