The Seventh Son of Avonap

Because Avonap loved his seventh son, he tried to get him away from the farm as soon as he could. It was no good for a lateborn son to stay long on the farm, for the older he got, the more he ate, and the more he ate, the more the elder sons saw their inheritance being wasted, perhaps being threatened by a child their father loved more. Such lateborn sons had a way of dying in strange accidents. Avonap had no reason to think that Orem would be safe.

He tried Orem as a soldier, with the one-eyed man in the village who had once been a sergeant in Palicrovol's army, but Orem was too slight of build, too small of stature to wield the weapons. And so there was nothing to do but give the boy to God.

Orem took the news well. He could see that his father grieved that he must go, which comforted him. He could also see that his mother was relieved that he'd be gone, and this hurt him enough that he did not want to stay.

So it was that at the age of six Orem was carried on donkeyback to the town of Banningside and delivered into the hands of the clerics in the House of God.

"You will learn to read and write," said Avonap, though he had no notion of what reading and writing were.

"I don't want to learn to read and write," whispered the child.

"You will learn to count money," said Avonap, though never in his life had he held a coin in his hand.

"You will learn to serve God," said Halfpriest Dobbick, taking the boy into the door of the house. And at that Avonap touched his forehead and bent his knees a bit, for God was treated with respect in all the lands of King Palicrovol.

Orem wept when the great wooden door closed, but not for long. Children are resilient. No matter how they are battered, they have a way of thriving.