The Warded Man (13 page)

Bruna’s hand jerked from her grasp, and Leesha cried out, fearing a fresh set of spasms. But her ministrations had given the old Herb Gatherer the control to reach into her shawl, pulling free a pouch that she thrust Leesha’s way. A series of coughs wracked her frail body, and she was torn from Leesha’s arms and hit the ground, flopping like a fish with each cough. Leesha was left holding the pouch in horror.

She looked down at the cloth bag, squeezing experimentally and feeling the crunch of herbs inside. She sniffed it, catching a scent like potpourri.

She thanked the Creator. If it had all been one herb, she would have never been able to guess the dose, but she had made enough tinctures and teas for Bruna that day to understand what she had been given.

She rushed to the kettle steaming on the tripod and placed a thin cloth over a cup, layering it thick with herbs from the pouch. She poured boiling water over the herbs slowly, leaching their strength, then deftly tied the herbs up in the cloth and tossed it into the water.

She ran back to Bruna, blowing on the liquid. It would burn, but there was no time to let it cool. She lifted Bruna in one arm, pressing the cup to her spit-flecked lips.

The Herb Gatherer thrashed, spilling some of the cure, but Leesha forced her to drink, the yellow liquid running out of the sides of her mouth. She kept twitching and coughing, but the symptoms began to subside. As her heaves eased, Leesha sobbed in relief.

“Leesha!” she heard a call. She looked up from Bruna, and saw her mother racing toward her, ahead of a group of townsfolk.

“What have you done, you worthless girl?” Elona demanded. She reached Leesha before the others could draw close and hissed, “Bad enough I have a useless daughter and not a son to fight the fire, but now you’ve gone and killed the town crone?” She drew back her hand to smack at her daughter, but Bruna reached up and caught Elona’s wrist in her skeletal grip.

“The crone lives because of her, you idiot!” Bruna croaked. Elona turned bone-white and drew back as if Bruna had become a coreling. The sight gave Leesha a rush of pleasure.

By then, the rest of the villagers had gathered around them, asking what had happened.

“My daughter saved Bruna’s life!” Elona shouted, before Leesha or Bruna could speak.

Tender Michel held his warded Canon aloft so all could see the holy book as the remains of the dead were thrown on the ruin of the last burning house. The villagers stood with hats in hand, heads bowed. Jona threw incense on the blaze, flavoring the acrid stench permeating the air.

“Until the Deliverer comes to lift the Plague of demonkind, remember well that it was the sins of man that brought it down!” Michel shouted. “The adulterers and the fornicators! The liars and thieves and usurers!”

“The ones that clench their rears too tight,” Elona murmured. Someone snickered.

“Those leaving this world will be judged,” Michel went on, “and those who served the Creator’s will shall join with him in Heaven, while those who have broken his trust, sullied by sins of indulgence or flesh, will burn in the Core for eternity!” He closed the book, and the assembled villagers bowed in silence.

“But while mourning is good and proper,” Michel said, “we should not forget those of us the Creator has chosen to live. Let us break casks and drink to the dead. Let us tell the tales of them we love most, and laugh, for life is precious, and not to be wasted. We can save our tears for when we sit behind our wards tonight.”

“That’s our Tender,” Elona muttered. “Any excuse to break open a cask.”

“Now dear,” Erny said, patting her hand, “he means well.”

“The coward defends the drunk, of course,” Elona said, pulling her hand away. “Steave rushes into burning houses, and my husband cringes with the women.”

“I was in the bucket line!” Erny protested. He and Steave had been rivals for Elona, and it was said that his winning of Elona was more to do with his purse than her heart.

“Like a woman,” Elona agreed, eyeing the muscular Steave across the crowd.

It was always like this. Leesha wished she could shut her ears to them. She wished the corelings had taken her mother, instead of seven good people. She wished her father would stand up to her for once; for himself, if not his daughter. She wished she would flower already, so she could go with Gared and leave them both behind.

Those too old or young to fight the flames had prepared a great meal for the village, and they laid it out as the others sat, too exhausted to move, and stared at the smoldering ashes.

But the fires were out, the wounded bandaged and healing, and there were hours before sunset. The Tender’s words took the guilt from those relieved to be alive, and Smitt’s strong Hollow ale did the rest. It was said that Smitt’s ale could cure any woe, and there was much to cure. Soon the long tables rang with laughter at stories of those who had passed from the world.

Gared sat a few tables away with his friends Ren and Flinn, their wives, and his other friend Evin. The other boys, all woodcutters, were older than Gared by a few years, but Gared was bigger than all save Ren, and it seemed he would pass even him before his growing was done. Of the group, Evin alone was unpromised, and many girls eyed him, despite his short temper.

The older boys teased Gared relentlessly, especially about Leesha. She wasn’t happy to be forced to sit with her parents, but sitting with Gared while Ren and Flinn made lewd suggestions and Evin picked fights was often worse.

After they had eaten their share, Tender Michel and Child Jona rose from the table, carrying a large platter of food to the Holy House, where Darsy looked after Bruna and the wounded. Leesha excused herself to help them. Gared spotted the move and rose to join her, but no sooner had she stood than she was swept off by Brianne, Saira, and Mairy, her closest friends.

“Is it true what happened?” Saira asked, pulling her left arm.

“Everyone’s saying you knocked Darsy down and saved Hag Bruna!” Mairy said, pulling her right. Leesha looked back helplessly at Gared, and allowed herself to be led away.

“The grizzly bear can wait his turn,” Brianne told her.

“Yull come second to them girls even after yur married, Gared!” Ren cried, causing his friends to roar with laughter and pound the table. The girls ignored them, spreading their skirts and sitting on the grass, away from the increasing noise, as their elders drained cask after cask.

“Gared’s gonna be hearing that one awhile,” Brianne laughed. “Ren bet five klats he won’t get to kiss you before dusk, much less a good grope.” At sixteen, she was already two years a widow, but had no shortage of suitors. She said it was because she knew a wife’s tricks. She lived with her father and two older brothers, woodcutters, and was mother to them all.

“Unlike some people, I don’t invite every passing boy to grope me,” Leesha said, bringing a mock look of indignation from Brianne.

“I’d let Gared grope if I was promised to him,” Saira said. She was fifteen, with cropped brown hair and freckles on her chipmunk cheeks. She had been promised to a boy last year, but the corelings had taken him and her father in a single night.

“I wish I was promised,” Mairy complained. She was gaunt at fourteen years, with a hollow face and a prominent nose. She was full flowered, but despite the efforts of her parents, not yet promised. Elona called her scarecrow. “No man will want to put a child between those bony hips,” she had sneered once, “lest the scarecrow crack in two when the babe breaks.”

“It will happen soon enough,” Leesha told her. She was the youngest of the group at thirteen, but the others seemed to center around her. Elona said it was because she was prettier and better moneyed, but Leesha could never believe her friends so petty.

“Did you really beat Darsy with a stick?” Mairy asked.

“It didn’t happen like that,” Leesha said. “Darsy made some mistake, and Bruna started hitting her with her stick. Darsy tried to back away, and walked right into me. We both fell down, and Bruna kept hitting her until she ran off.”

“If she hit me with a stick, I’da hit her right back,” Brianne said. “Da says Bruna’s a witch, and she slaps stomachs with demons in her hut at night.”

“That’s disgusting nonsense!” Leesha snapped.

“Then why’s she live so far from town?” Saira demanded. “And how is it she’s still alive when her grandchildren are dead of old age?”

“Because she’s an Herb Gatherer,” Leesha said, “and you don’t find herbs growing in the center of town. I helped her today, and it was amazing. I thought half the people brought to her were too hurt to live, but she saved every one.”

“Did you see her cast spells on them?” Mairy asked excitedly.

“She’s not a witch!” Leesha said. “She did it all with herbs and knives and thread.”

“She cut people?” Mairy said in disgust.

“Witch,” Brianne said. Saira nodded.

Leesha gave them all a sour look, and they quieted. “She didn’t just go around cutting people,” Leesha said. “She healed them. It was … I can’t explain it. Old as she is, she never stopped working until she treated everyone. It was like she kept on by will alone. She collapsed right after she treated the last one.”

“And that’s when you saved her?” Mairy asked.

Leesha nodded. “She gave me the cure just before the coughing started. Really, all I did was brew it. I held her until the coughing stopped, and that’s when everyone found us.”

“You touched her?” Brianne made a face. “I bet she stunk of sour milk and weeds.”

“Creator!” Leesha cried. “Bruna saved a dozen lives today, and all you can do is mock!”

“Goodness,” Brianne quipped, “Leesha saves the hag, and suddenly her paps are too big for her corset.” Leesha scowled. She was the last of her friends to bloom, and her breasts, or lack thereof, were a sore spot for her.

“You used to say the same things about her, Leesh,” Saira said.

“Maybe so, but not anymore,” Leesha said. “She may be a mean old woman, but she deserves better.”

Just then, Child Jona came over to them. He was seventeen, but too small and slight to swing an axe or pull a saw. Jona spent most of his days penning and reading letters for those in town with no letters, which was almost everyone. Leesha, one of the few children who could read, often went to him to borrow books from Tender Michel’s collection.

“I’ve a message from Bruna,” he said to Leesha. “She wishes …”

His words were cut off as he was yanked backward. Jona was two years senior, but Gared spun him like a paper doll, gripping his robes and pulling him so close their noses touched.

“I told you before about talking to those what arn’t promised to ya,” Gared growled.

“I wasn’t!” Jona protested, his feet kicking an inch off the ground. “I just …!”

“Gared!” Leesha barked. “You put him down this instant!”

Gared looked at Leesha, then back to Jona. His eyes flicked to his friends, then back to Leesha. He let go, and Jona crashed to the ground. He scrambled to his feet and scurried off. Brianne and Saira giggled, but Leesha silenced them with a glare before rounding on Gared.

“What in the Core is the matter with you?” Leesha demanded.

Gared looked down. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s jus’ … well, I ent gotten to talk to ya all day, and I guess I got mad when I saw ya talking to him.”

“Oh, Gared,” Leesha touched his cheek, “you don’t have to be jealous. There’s no one for me but you.”

“Really?” Gared asked.

“Will you apologize to Jona?” Leesha asked.

“Yes,” Gared promised.

“Then yes, really,” Leesha said. “Now go on back to the tables. I’ll join you in a bit.” She kissed him, and Gared broke into a wide smile and ran off.

“I suppose it’s something like training a bear,” Brianne mused.

“A bear that just sat in a briar patch,” Saira said.

“You leave him be,” Leesha said.

“Gared doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just too strong for his own good, and a little …”

“Lumbering?” Brianne offered.

“Slow?” Saira supplied.

“Dim?” Mairy suggested.

Leesha swatted at them, and they all laughed.

Gared sat protectively by Leesha, he and Steave having come over to sit with Leesha’s family. She longed for his arms around her, but it wasn’t proper, even promised as they were, until she was of age and their engagement formalized by the Tender. Even then, chaste touching and kisses were supposed to be the limit until their wedding night.

Still, Leesha let Gared kiss her when they were alone, but she held it at that, regardless of what Brianne thought. She wanted to keep tradition, so their wedding night would be a special thing they would remember forever.

And of course, there was Klarissa, who had loved to dance and flirt. She had taught Leesha and her friends to reel and braided flowers in their hair. An exceptionally pretty girl, Klarissa had her pick of suitors.

Her son would be three now, and still no man in Cutter’s Hollow would claim him as their own. It was broadly assumed that meant he was a married man, and over the months when her belly fattened, not a sermon had gone by where Tender Michel had failed to remind her that it was her sin, and that of those like her, that kept the Creator’s Plague strong.