Jo Mama could read.
This fact surprised people more often than it should have.
The sign beside the bridge said:
BRIDGE CLOSED - UNSAFE
Jo read it perfectly.
Then she crossed the bridge.
The distinction mattered to Jo.
It did not matter to the bridge.
Halfway across, the boards made a noise like an elderly man reconsidering every decision that had led him to this moment.
Paul froze.
“Jo.”
Jo froze.
Ellie froze.
Jimmy, who had not yet stepped onto the bridge because he was examining a discarded iron bracket beside the road, looked up.
“Bad sound.”
“Yes,” Paul said. “Thank you, Jimmy.”
Jo looked down.
One plank cracked beneath her boot.
“Bridge grumpy.”
“The bridge is not grumpy. The bridge is collapsing.”
Another plank snapped.
Jo moved.
“Don’t-”
Jo lunged forward.
The bridge gave way behind her.
Paul and Ellie scrambled back toward the near bank while Jo launched herself toward the far side.
She hit the ground shoulder-first, rolled, and came up on one knee.
The center of the bridge collapsed into the ravine.
Silence.
Paul stood on the opposite side.
He looked at Jo.
Then at the sign.
Then back at Jo.
“You read that.”
“Yep.”
“You read the words BRIDGE CLOSED.”
“Yep.”
“And UNSAFE.”
“Yep.”
“And then you crossed it.”
Jo stood.
“Didn’t say Jo couldn’t.”
Paul stared at her.
Ellie covered her mouth.
Jimmy nodded thoughtfully.
“Technically.”
Paul spun toward him.
“Do not technically this.”
Jimmy picked up the iron bracket.
“Could need.”
Paul made a sound of deep spiritual exhaustion.
The existence of poor decisions should not be interpreted as evidence to the contrary.
They found another way around the ravine.
It took forty-five minutes.
Paul spent thirty-seven of them explaining why warning signs did not need to contain Jo Mama’s name personally in order to apply to her.
Jo spent thirty-seven of them disagreeing.
By the time they reached the northern watchtower, neither had changed the other’s mind.
The tower had been abandoned for centuries.
Gray stone leaned against the mountainside, half swallowed by moss.
Their job was simple.
A merchant caravan had vanished somewhere along the northern road. The old watchtower overlooked most of the route.
Paul hoped they could find evidence of where the caravan had gone.
Jo hoped there would be something shiny.
Ellie hoped there would not be a lock.
Jimmy hoped there would be several.
The front door was carved with twelve stone tiles.
Each tile bore a number.
Paul stopped.
“Oh.”
Jo stopped behind him.
“What?”
“A sequence lock.”
Jo’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
Paul did not notice.
Ellie did.
Jimmy was busy examining a rusted hook.
Paul ran his fingers beneath the tiles.
“We need to determine the numerical pattern.”
Jo stepped backward.
“Paul do.”
Paul glanced at her.
“You don’t want to try?”
“Nope.”
“It may be simple.”
“Nope.”
“Jo, you haven’t even looked at it.”
“Looked.”
Paul turned.
Jo was already walking toward a rock.
She sat.
Then picked up a smaller rock.
It had a line of quartz through it.
“Shiny.”
Paul stared at her.
“We’re solving the door.”
“Yep.”
“You’re part of the party.”
“Yep.”
“So perhaps you could help.”
“Paul good numbers.”
“That doesn’t mean-”
“Jo bad numbers.”
She said it cheerfully.
Too cheerfully.
Paul missed it.
Ellie didn’t.
“Paul.”
“What?”
Ellie gave him a look.
Paul looked back at Jo.
She was turning the quartz rock in her fingers.
Not studying it.
Just keeping her hands busy.
He finally noticed that she wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Oh.”
Jo looked up.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay.”
Paul turned back to the door.
He did not ask again.
“No.”
Paul solved the sequence.
It took him eleven minutes, two pages of notes, one argument with the architect of a civilization dead for approximately eight hundred years, and a small amount of profanity.
The final tile clicked.
The tower door opened.
Jo shot to her feet.
“PAUL DID IT!”
Birds left a nearby tree.
Paul flinched.
Jo pointed at him.
“Wizard smart!”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Big brain.”
“Jo-”
“Tiny body.”
“Jo.”
“HUGE BRAIN.”
Ellie laughed.
Jimmy looked up from the hook.
“Good door.”
Paul sighed.
But he was smiling.
Jo saw it.
She grinned.
Then she handed him the shiny rock.
“For smart.”
Paul looked at it.
It was worthless.
Completely, absolutely worthless.
A little gray stone with a white stripe.
He almost told her.
Instead, he put it in his pocket.
“Thank you.”
Jo beamed.
From the top of the tower, they found the caravan road.
Or what remained of it.
One wagon lay overturned near the edge of the forest.
No horses.
No people.
No smoke.
Paul lowered his spyglass.
“There.”
Jo was already heading down the stairs.
They reached the wagon before noon.
Ellie searched the perimeter.
Jimmy searched the wagon.
Paul searched for tracks.
Jo stood in the middle of the road.
Paul crouched beside a hoofprint.
“Two horses.”
Ellie nodded.
“Tracks head north, then scatter.”
“Could have been attacked.”
“Maybe.”
Jimmy emerged from the wagon carrying a broken buckle.
Paul pointed at him.
“Put that back.”
Jimmy looked at the buckle.
“Broken.”
“It belongs to someone.”
“Could fix.”
“Put it back.”
Jimmy returned it.
Slowly.
With visible regret.
Jo hadn’t moved.
She stared at the wagon.
Paul stood.
“Jo?”
No response.
She walked to the rear wheel.
Crouched.
Touched a gouge in the wood.
Then looked at the road.
Then at a low branch.
A strip of blue fabric fluttered from it.
Jo walked over.
She took the fabric.
Sniffed it.
Paul watched.
“Do you recognize that?”
“Nope.”
Jo walked toward the trees.
Ellie frowned.
“Where are you going?”
Jo pointed.
“Horse went there.”
Paul looked at the road.
“The tracks go north.”
“Horse didn’t.”
He looked again.
Jo pointed at a second set of marks almost hidden beneath the grass.
“Horse scared.”
Paul moved closer.
There were hoofprints.
Uneven.
Deep.
One animal had bolted into the trees.
Jo followed.
The others followed Jo.
Twenty yards into the forest, she stopped.
“Wagon broke first.”
Paul blinked.
“What?”
Jo pointed behind them.
“Wheel hit hole.”
She pointed toward the gouges.
“Wagon went sideways.”
Then the broken branch.
“Horse pulled.”
Then the blue cloth.
“Person jumped.”
Ellie stared at her.
“How did you get all that?”
Jo shrugged.
“Dunno.”
She looked down.
“Probably dumb.”
Paul stopped walking.
There it was again.
This time he heard it.
He looked back toward the road.
Wheel.
Gouge.
Fabric.
Tracks.
“No,” he said.
Jo looked at him.
“What?”
“You reconstructed the accident.”
Jo frowned.
“Jo saw blue.”
“Yes, Jo.”
Paul pointed at the cloth.
“You saw blue.”
She stared at him.
He continued.
“And the wheel. And the road. And the horse tracks. And where the wagon shifted.”
Jo looked uncomfortable.
“Still saw blue.”
Paul smiled slightly.
“Yes.”
They kept walking.
The tracks led to an uprooted tree.
Jo stopped.
Someone was breathing beneath it.
She could hear them.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Jo crouched.
“Person?”
The breathing stopped.
Paul whispered:
“Excellent. Now they think you eat people.”
Jo whispered back:
“Jo don’t eat people.”
“I know that.”
Jo leaned toward the roots.
“Jo don’t eat people.”
Paul closed his eyes.
“Somehow worse.”
A man’s frightened voice came from beneath the tree.
“Go away.”
Jo looked at Paul.
Paul gestured.
“Talk.”
Jo looked back.
“Okay.”
She sat down.
The others stared.
Jo folded her legs beneath herself and rested her hands where they could be seen.
“Jo small.”
Ellie looked at the seven-foot half-orc.
Paul shook his head.
“Relatively.”
A face appeared between the roots.
Middle-aged.
Bruised.
Terrified.
Jo smiled.
The man flinched.
Jo immediately stopped smiling.
“Sorry.”
The man stared.
Paul stepped forward.
“We’re looking for the missing caravan.”
“No caravan.”
Jo tilted her head.
The man looked at her.
“What?”
“Lie.”
Paul looked at Jo.
The man went pale.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jo studied him.
Not his words.
His hands.
His eyes.
The way he kept glancing deeper into the trees.
“You hiding.”
The man swallowed.
“No.”
“Protecting.”
His face changed.
Jo’s voice softened.
“Kid?”
The man said nothing.
That was answer enough.
His name was Edren.
The caravan had not been attacked.
He had abandoned it.
The local lord had increased taxes again and confiscated most of the town’s medicine when the apothecary could not pay.
Edren’s daughter was sick.
So he had traveled to the next province, bought replacement medicine with everything he had left, and tried to bring it home secretly.
The wagon broke.
When he saw riders on the road, he panicked.
“The medicine?” Paul asked.
Edren pointed deeper into the roots.
A small wooden crate sat beneath the tree.
Jimmy immediately said:
“Good box.”
Paul pointed at him.
“No.”
Jimmy sighed.
Ellie examined the bottles.
“Looks intact.”
Edren nodded.
“My daughter needs it today.”
Paul looked toward the road.
Hoofbeats.
Approaching.
Edren went white.
“They found me.”
Jo stood.
The frightened man backed deeper beneath the roots.
Jo noticed.
She stepped away from him.
“Stay.”
Then she walked toward the road.
Six riders entered the clearing.
Their armor bore the lord’s crest.
The captain dismounted.
“Edren Vale.”
Nobody answered.
The captain saw the overturned wagon through the trees.
Then the party.
“Stand aside.”
Paul stepped forward.
“On what authority?”
The captain produced a sealed decree.
Paul read it.
His expression tightened.
“The medicines transported through this district are subject to seizure for unpaid civic levies.”
Jo looked at him.
“Legal?”
Paul hesitated.
“Technically.”
Jo frowned.
“Bad legal?”
The captain looked offended.
“The law is the law.”
Jo pointed toward the tree.
“Kid sick.”
“Irrelevant.”
Jo’s expression changed.
“Jo think relevant.”
The captain reached for the medicine crate.
Ellie appeared between them.
Nobody had seen her move.
She did not draw her dagger.
She merely rested one hand near it.
“Don’t.”
The captain looked at Paul.
“Control your thief.”
Ellie smiled without warmth.
“Interesting noun.”
Paul stepped beside her.
Fire curled between his fingers.
Not thrown.
Not aimed.
Just visible.
Jimmy stood on Jo’s other side holding a length of rope.
Nobody knew why.
With Jimmy, this was normal.
The captain looked at Jo.
Jo cracked her knuckles.
Paul sighed.
“Jo.”
“What?”
“Perhaps don’t make that sound.”
“Hands do it.”
The captain looked at the four of them.
Then toward the road.
Then at the decree.
Paul spoke quietly.
“You can seize the medicine.”
The captain smiled.
Paul continued.
“You can also explain to your lord why six armed riders returned injured after confiscating medicine from a sick child while witnesses watched.”
The smile vanished.
“We’re threatening royal officers now?”
“No.”
Paul’s fire brightened.
“We’re discussing consequences.”
Ellie nodded.
“Very lawfully.”
Jo looked delighted.
“Lawful investigation.”
Paul looked at her.
“Where did you learn that phrase?”
“Made up.”
“Never say it again.”
The captain stared at them.
Then mounted his horse.
“This isn’t finished.”
Jo waved.
“Bye, Steve.”
“My name is Captain Rell.”
“Bye, Steve.”
The riders left.
Edren’s daughter got her medicine.
Nobody died.
Paul considered this an unusually successful afternoon.
They stayed in the village that night.
Edren’s daughter was sleeping by sunset.
Her fever had begun to fall.
The villagers fed the party stew, bread, and enough roasted vegetables to make Jo suspicious.
“Where meat?”
“Eat the carrots,” Paul said.
Jo ate one.
Her expression suggested betrayal.
Later, Paul found her sitting outside the inn.
She was turning another rock in her hands.
This one wasn’t shiny.
Paul sat beside her.
Jo looked at him.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Silence.
Then Paul said:
“You found Edren.”
Jo shrugged.
“We all found.”
“You found his trail.”
“Horse found trail.”
“You noticed the horse’s trail.”
Jo picked at the edge of the rock.
Paul continued.
“You figured out how the wagon crashed.”
“Blue.”
“You recognized that Edren was lying.”
“Face.”
“You realized he was protecting someone.”
Jo shrugged again.
“You understood what mattered before I did.”
That made her look at him.
Paul folded his hands.
“Why do you call yourself stupid?”
Jo looked away.
“Intelligence dump stat.”
“That is a number on a character sheet.”
“Low number.”
“Yes.”
“Means dumb.”
“No.”
Jo frowned.
Paul spoke carefully.
“It means you are not particularly good at the things that number measures.”
“Numbers.”
“Among other things.”
“Runes.”
“Sometimes.”
“Fancy wizard stuff.”
Paul smiled.
“Frequently.”
Jo nodded as though her case had been proven.
Paul shook his head.
“Don’t confuse a number on a character sheet with the contents of your head.”
Jo went quiet.
“Jo not smart like Paul.”
“No.”
Paul looked at her.
“You’re smart like Jo.”
She stared at him.
“That sentence bad.”
“It sounded better internally.”
Jo’s mouth twitched.
Paul continued.
“You notice things I don’t. People, especially.”
“Paul notices.”
“I notice books.”
“You notice people.”
“Eventually.”
Jo laughed.
Paul smiled.
Then Jo suddenly opened both arms.
Paul immediately pointed.
“Ask.”
Jo froze.
“Smart hug?”
Paul considered.
“One.”
Jo grabbed him.
His feet left the ground.
“JO.”
She immediately put him down.
“Sorry.”
Paul straightened his robes.
“Your hugs remain structurally unsound.”
“Good hug?”
He sighed.
“Good hug.”
Jo smiled.
She held out the rock.
Paul looked at it.
“Another one?”
“For Paul.”
“This one isn’t even shiny.”
“Good shape.”
Paul took it.
He had no idea what made the shape good.
He put it in his pocket anyway.
“Thank you.”
Jo leaned back against the wall.
After a moment she said:
“Still hate math.”
Paul nodded.
“That is allowed.”
“Math hates Jo.”
“That is probably not true.”
“Bridge hated Jo.”
“The bridge had a sign.”
Jo looked at him.
Paul looked at her.
Neither moved.
Finally Paul said:
“I regret reopening this discussion.”
Jo grinned.