The Warded Man (15 page)

Steave, gulping ale at the time, snorted it out his nose. Gared laughed at his father, and Elona snatched the napkin from Erny’s lap to dry Steave’s face. Leesha looked to her father for support, but he kept his eyes on his bowl. He hadn’t said a word since emerging from the shop.

It was too much for Leesha. She cleared the table and retreated to her room, but there was no sanctuary there. She had forgotten that her mother had given the room to Steave for the duration of his and Gared’s indefinite stay. The giant woodcutter had tracked mud across her spotless floor, leaving his filthy boots atop her favorite book, where it lay by her bed.

She cried out and ran to the treasure, but the cover was hopelessly muddied. Her bedclothes of soft Rizonan wool were stained with Creator knew what, and stank of a foul blend of musky sweat and the expensive Angierian perfume her mother favored.

Leesha felt sick. She clutched her precious book tightly and fled to her father’s shop, weeping as she tried futilely to clean the stains from her book. It was there Gared found her.

“So this is where ya run off to,” he said, moving to encircle her in his burly arms.

Leesha pulled away, wiping her eyes and trying to compose herself. “I just needed a moment,” she said.

Gared caught her arm. “Is this about the joke yur mum made?” he asked.

Leesha shook her head, trying to turn away again, but Gared held her fast.

“I was only laughing at my da,” he said. “I loved yur stew.”

“Really?” Leesha sniffed.

“Really,” he promised, pulling her close and kissing her deeply. “We could feed an army of sons on cooking like that,” he husked.

Leesha giggled. “I might have trouble squeezing out an army of little Gareds,” she said.

He held her tighter, and put his lips to her ear. “Right now, I’m only interested in you squeezing one in,” he said.

Leesha groaned, but she gently pushed him away. “We’ll be wed soon enough,” she said.

“Yesterday ent soon enough,” Gared said, but he let her go.

Leesha lay curled up in blankets by the common room fire. Steave had her room, and Gared was on a cot in the shop. The floor was drafty and cold at night, and the wool rug was rough and hard to lie upon. She longed for her own bed, though nothing short of burning would erase the stench of Steave and her mother’s sin.

She wasn’t even sure why Elona bothered with the ruse. It wasn’t as if she was fooling anyone. She might as well put Erny out in the common room and take Steave right to her bed.

Leesha couldn’t wait until she and Gared could leave.

She lay awake, listening to the demons testing the wards and imagining running the papermaking shop with Gared, her father retired and her mother and Steave sadly passed on. Her belly was round and full, and she kept books while Gared came in flexed and sweaty from working the grinder. He kissed her as their little ones raced about the shop.

The image warmed her, but she remembered Bruna’s words, and wondered if she would be missing something if she devoted her life to children and papermaking. She closed her eyes again, and imagined herself as the Herb Gatherer of Cutter’s Hollow, everyone depending on her to cure their ills, deliver their babies, and heal their wounds. It was a powerful image, but one harder to fit Gared or children into. An Herb Gatherer had to visit the sick, and the image of Gared carrying her herbs and tools from place to place didn’t ring true, nor did the idea of him keeping an eye on the children while she worked.

Bruna had managed it, however many decades ago, marrying, raising children, and still tending the folk, but Leesha didn’t see how. She would have to ask the old woman.

She heard a click, and looked up to see Gared gingerly stepping from the shop. She pretended to be asleep until he drew near, then rolled over suddenly. “What are you doing out here?” she whispered. Gared jumped and covered his mouth to muffle a yelp. Leesha had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud.

“I just came to use the privy,” Gared whispered, coming over and kneeling beside her.

“There’s a privy in the shop,” Leesha reminded him.

“Then I came for a good-night kiss,” he said, leaning in with his lips puckered.

“You had three when you first went to bed,” Leesha said, playfully smacking him away.

“Is it so bad to want another?” Gared asked.

“I suppose not,” Leesha said, putting her arms around his shoulders.

Some time later, there was the creak of another door. Gared stiffened, looking about for a place to hide. Leesha pointed to one of the chairs. He was far too big to be covered completely, but with only the dim orange glow from the fireplace to see by, it might prove enough.

A faint light appeared a moment later, dashing that hope. Leesha barely managed to lie back down and close her eyes before it swept into the room.

Through slitted eyes, Leesha saw her mother looking into the common room. The lantern she held was mostly shuttered, and the light threw great shadows, giving Gared room enough to hide if she didn’t look too closely.

They needn’t have worried. After satisfying herself that Leesha was asleep, Elona opened the door to Steave’s room and disappeared inside.

Leesha stared after her for a long time. That Elona was being untrue was no great revelation, but until this very moment, Leesha had allowed herself the luxury of doubting that her mother could truly be so willing to throw away her vows.

She felt Gared’s hand on her shoulder. “Leesha, I’m sorry,” he said, and she buried her face in his chest, weeping. He held her tightly, muffling her sobs and rocking back and forth. A demon roared somewhere off in the distance, and Leesha wanted to scream along with it. She held her tongue in the vain hope that her father was sleeping, oblivious to Elona’s grunting, but the likelihood seemed remote unless she had used one of Bruna’s sleeping draughts on him.

“I’ll take you away from this,” Gared said. “We’ll waste no time in making plans, and I’ll have a house for us before the ceremony if I have to cut and carry all the logs myself.”

“Oh, Gared,” she said, kissing him. He returned the embrace, and laid her down again. The thumping from Steave’s room and the sound of the demons without all faded away into the thrum of blood in her ears.

Gared’s hands roamed her body freely, and Leesha let him touch places that only a husband should. She gasped and arched her back in pleasure, and Gared took the opportunity to position himself between her legs. She felt him slip free of his breeches, and knew what he was doing. She knew she should push him away, but there was a great emptiness inside her, and Gared seemed the only person in the world who might be able to fill it.

He was about to drive forward when Leesha heard her mother cry out in pleasure, and she stiffened. Was she any better than Elona, if she gave up her vows so easily? She swore to cross the wards of her marriage house a virgin. She swore to be nothing like Elona. But here she was, throwing all that away to rut with a boy mere feet from where her mother sinned.

It’s oath breakers I can’t abide
, she heard Bruna say again, and Leesha pressed her hands hard against Gared’s chest.

“Gared, no, please,” she whispered. Gared stiffened for a long moment. Finally, he rolled away from her and retied his breeches.

“I’m sorry,” Leesha said weakly.

“No, I’m sorry,” Gared said. He kissed her temple. “I can wait.”

Leesha hugged him tightly, and Gared rose to leave. She wanted him to stay and sleep beside her, but they had stretched their luck thin as it was. If they were caught together, Elona would punish her severely, despite her own sin. Perhaps even because of it.

As the door to the shop clicked shut, Leesha lay back filled with warm thoughts of Gared. Whatever pain her mother might bring her, she could weather it so long as she had Gared.

Breakfast was an uncomfortable affair, the sounds of chewing and swallowing thunderous in the mute pall hanging over the table. It seemed there was nothing to say not better left unsaid. Leesha wordlessly cleared the table while Gared and Steave fetched their axes.

“Will you be in the shop today?” Gared asked, finally breaking the silence. Erny looked up for the first time that morning, interested in her reply.

“I promised Bruna I’d help tend the wounded again today,” Leesha said, but she looked apologetically at her father as she did. Erny nodded in understanding and smiled weakly.

“And how long is that to go on for?” Elona asked.

Leesha shrugged. “Until they’re better, I suppose,” she said.

“You’re spending too much time with that old witch,” Elona said.

“At your request,” Leesha reminded.

Elona scowled. “Don’t get smart with me, girl.”

Anger flared in Leesha, but she flashed her most winning smile as she swung her cloak around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Mother,” she said, “I won’t drink too much of her tea.”

Steave snorted, and Elona’s eyes bulged, but Leesha swept out the door before she could recover enough to reply.

Gared walked with her a ways, but soon they reached the place where the woodcutters met each morning, and Gared’s friends were already waiting.

“Yur late, Gar,” Evin grumbled.

“Gotta woman t’cook for him, now,” Flinn said. “That’ll make any man linger.”

“If he even slept.” Ren snorted. “My guess is he got her doing more’n cooking, an’ right under her father’s nose.”

“Ren got that right, Gar?” Flinn asked. “Find a new place to keep yur axe last night?”

Leesha bristled and opened her mouth to retort, but Gared laid a hand on her shoulder. “Pay them no mind,” he said. “They’re just tryin’ to make you spit.”

“You could defend my honor,” Leesha said. Creator knew, boys would fight for any other reason.

“Oh, I will,” Gared promised. “I just don’t want ya to see it. I’d rather ya keep thinking me gentle.”

“You
are
gentle,” Leesha said, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. The boys hooted, and Leesha stuck her tongue out at them as she walked off.

“Idiot girl,” Bruna muttered, when Leesha told her what she had said to Elona. “Only a fool shows their cards when the game’s just getting started.”

“This isn’t a game, it’s my life!” Leesha said.

Bruna grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks so hard her lips puckered apart. “All the more reason to show a little sense,” she growled, glaring with her milky eyes.

Leesha felt anger flare hotly within her. Who was this woman, to speak to her so? Bruna seemed to hold the entire town in scorn, grabbing, hitting, and threatening anyone she pleased. Was she any better than Elona, really? Had she had Leesha’s best interests at heart when she told her all those horrible things about her mother, or was she just manipulating her to become her apprentice, like Elona’s pressure to marry Gared early and bear his children? In her heart, Leesha wanted both of those things, but she was tiring of being pushed.

“Well, well, look who’s back,” came a voice from the door, “the young prodigy.”

Leesha looked up to see Darsy standing in the doorway of the Holy House with an armful of firewood. The woman made no effort to hide her dislike for Leesha, and she could be just as intimidating as Bruna when she wished. Leesha had tried to assure her that she was not a threat, but her overtures only seemed to make things worse. Darsy was determined not to like her.

“Don’t blame Leesha if she’s learned more in two days than you did in your first year,” Bruna said, as Darsy slammed down the wood and lifted a heavy iron poker to stoke the fire.

Leesha was sure she would never get along with Darsy so long as Bruna kept picking at the wound, but she busied herself grinding herbs for poultices. Several of those burned in the attack had skin infections that needed regular attention. Others were worse still. Bruna had been shaken awake twice in the night to tend those, but so far, her herbs and skills had not failed her.

Bruna had assumed complete control of the Holy House, ordering Tender Michel and the rest around like Milnese servants. She kept Leesha close by, talking continuously in her phlegmy rasp, explaining the nature of the wounds, and the properties of the herbs she used to treat them. Leesha watched her cut and sew flesh, and found her stomach was strengthening to such things.

Morning faded into afternoon, and Leesha had to force Bruna to pause and eat. Others might not notice the strain in the old woman’s breath or the shake of her hands, but Leesha did.

“That’s it,” she said finally, snatching the mortar and pestle from the Herb Gatherer’s hands. Bruna looked up at her sharply.

“Go and rest,” Leesha said.

“Who are you, girl, to …” Bruna began, reaching for her stick.

Leesha was wise to the move and faster, grabbing the stick and pointing it right at Bruna’s hooked nose. “You’re going to have another attack if you don’t rest,” she scolded. “I’m taking you outside, and no arguing! Stefny and Darsy can handle things for an hour.”

“Barely,” Bruna grumbled, but she allowed Leesha to help her up and lead her outside.

The sun was high in the sky, and the grass by the Holy House was lush and green, save for a few patches blackened by flame demons. Leesha spread a blanket and eased Bruna down, bringing her special tea and soft bread that would not strain the crone’s few remaining teeth.