“Fine,” Leesha said. “Maybe I’ll tell a few lies myself. If your friends teased you before, what do you think they’ll say if I tell them you weren’t stiff enough to do the deed?”
Gared balled one of his huge fists and raised it slightly. “Ya don’ wanna do that, Leesha. I’m being patient with ya, but if you go spreading lies like that, I swear …”
“But it’s fine to lie about me?” Leesha asked.
“Won’t matter once we’re married,” Gared said. “Everyone will forget.”
“I’m not marrying you,” Leesha said, and suddenly felt a huge weight shift from her.
Gared scowled. “Not like you have a choice,” he said. “Even if someone would take ya now, that bookmole Jona or some-such, I will beat him down. Ent no one in Cutter’s Hollow gonna take what’s mine.”
“Enjoy the fruits of your lie,” Leesha said, turning away before he saw her tears, “because I’ll give myself to the night before I let you make it a reality.”
It took all of Leesha’s strength to keep from breaking down in tears as she prepared supper that night. Every sound from Gared and Steave was like a knife in her heart. She had been tempted by Gared the night before. She had almost let him have his way, knowing full well what it meant. It had hurt to refuse him, but she had thought her virtue was hers to give. She had never imagined that he could take it with but a word, much less that he would.
“Just as well you’ve been spending so much time with Bruna,” came a whisper at her ear. Leesha whirled to find Elona standing there, smirking at her.
“We wouldn’t want you to have a round belly on your wedding day,” Elona said.
Regretting her tea comment from that morning, Leesha opened her mouth to reply, but her mother cackled and whirled away before she could find a word.
Leesha spat in her bowl. Gared and Steave’s, too. She felt hollow satisfaction as they ate.
Dinner was a horrid affair, Steave whispering in her mother’s ear, and Elona snickering at his words. Gared stared at her the whole time, but Leesha refused to look at him. She kept her eyes on her bowl, stirring numbly like her father beside her.
Only Erny seemed not to have heard Gared’s lie. Leesha was thankful for that, but she knew in her heart it could not last. Too many people seemed intent to destroy her with it.
She left the table as soon as she could. Gared kept his seat, but Leesha felt his eyes following her. The moment he retired into the shop, she barred him inside, feeling slightly safer.
Like so many nights before, Leesha cried herself to sleep.
Leesha rose doubting she had ever slept. Her mother had paid Steave another late-night visit, but Leesha felt only numbness as she listened to their grunts over the cacophony of the demons.
Gared, too, caused a thump deep in the night, discovering the door to the house barred. She smiled grimly as he tried the latch a few more times before finally giving up.
Erny came over to kiss the top of her head as she set the porridge on the fire. It was the first time they’d been alone together in days. She wondered what it would do to her already broken father when Gared’s lie found his ears. He might have believed her once, but with his wife’s betrayal still fresh, Leesha doubted he had much trust left to give.
“Healing the sick again today?” Erny asked. When Leesha nodded, he smiled and said, “That’s good.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t had more time for the shop,” Leesha said.
He took hold of her arms and leaned in close, looking her in the eyes. “People are always more important than paper, Leesha.”
“Even the bad ones?” she asked.
“Even the bad ones,” he confirmed. His smile was pained, but there was neither hesitation nor doubt in his answer. “Find the worst human being you can, and you’ll still find something worse by looking out the window at night.”
Leesha started to cry, and her father pulled her close, rocking her back and forth and stroking her hair. “I’m proud of you, Leesh,” he whispered. “Papermaking was my dream. The wards won’t fail if you choose another path.”
She hugged him tightly, soaking his shirt with her tears. “I love you, Da,” she said. “Whatever happens, never doubt that.”
“I never could, sunlight,” he said. “I’ll always love you, as well.”
She held on for a long time; her father the only friend she had left in the world.
She scooted out the door while Gared and Steave were still pulling on their boots. She hoped to avoid everyone on her way to the Holy House, but Gared’s friends were waiting just outside. Their greeting was a hail of whistles and catcalls.
“Jus’ came by to make sure you and yur mum ent keeping Gared and Steave abed when they oughta be working!” Ren called. Leesha turned bright red, but said nothing as she pushed past and hurried down the road. Their laughter cut at her back.
She didn’t think she was imagining it; the way people stared and broke into whispers as she passed. She hurried to the security of the Holy House, but when she arrived, Stefny blocked the door, her nostrils flaring as if Leesha stunk of the lye her father used to make paper.
“What are you doing?” Leesha asked. “Let me pass. I’m here to help Bruna.”
Stefny shook her head. “You’ll not taint this sacred place with your sin,” she sneered.
Leesha pulled herself up to her full height, taller than Stefny by inches, but she still felt like a mouse before a cat. “I have committed no sin,” she said.
“Hah!” Stefny laughed. “The whole town knows what you and Gared have been up to in the night. I had hopes for you, girl, but it seems you’re your mother’s daughter after all.”
“What’s all this?” came Bruna’s hoarse rasp before Leesha could reply.
Stefny turned, filled with haughty pride, and looked down at the old Herb Gatherer. “This girl is a whore, and I won’t have her in the Creator’s house.”
“You won’t have?” Bruna asked. “Are you the Creator now?”
“Do not blaspheme in this place, old woman,” Stefny said. “His words are written for all to see.” She held up the leather-bound copy of the Canon she carried everywhere. “Fornicators and adulterers keep the Plague upon us, and that sums this slut and her mother well.”
“And where is your proof of her crime?” Bruna asked.
Stefny smiled. “Gared has boasted their sin to any who would listen,” she said.
Bruna growled, and lashed out suddenly, striking Stefny on the head with her staff and knocking her to the ground. “You would condemn a girl with no more proof than a boy’s boast?” she shrieked. “Boys’ bragging isn’t worth the breath that carries it, and you know it well!”
“Everyone knows her mother is the town whore,” Stefny sneered. A trickle of blood ran down her temple. “Why should the pup be different from the bitch?”
Bruna thrust her staff into Stefny’s shoulder, making her cry out in pain.
“Hey there!” Smitt called, rushing over. “Enough of that!”
Tender Michel was hot on his heels. “This is a Holy House, not some Angierian tavern …”
“Women’s business is what this is, and you’ll stay out of it, if you know what’s good for you!” Bruna snapped, taking the wind from their sails. She looked back to Stefny. “Tell them, or shall I lay bare your sin as well?” she hissed.
“I have no sin, hag!” Stefny said.
“I’ve delivered every child in this village,” Bruna replied, too quietly for the men to hear, “and despite the rumors, I see quite well when things are as close as a babe in my hands.”
Stefny blanched, and turned to her husband and the Tender. “Stay out of this!” she called.
“The Core I will!” Smitt cried. He grabbed Bruna’s staff and pulled it off of his wife. “See here, woman,” he told Bruna. “Herb Gatherer or no, you can’t just go around hitting whomever you please!”
“Oh, but your wife can go around condemning whomever she pleases?” Bruna snapped
. She yanked her staff from his hands and clonked him on the head with it.
Smitt staggered back, rubbing his head. “All right,” he said, “I tried being nice.”
Usually, Smitt said that just before rolling up his sleeves and hurling someone bodily from his tavern. He wasn’t a tall man, but his squat frame was powerful, and he’d had plenty of experience in dealing with drunken cutters over the years.
Bruna was no thick-muscled cutter, but she didn’t appear the least bit intimidated. She stood her ground as Smitt stormed toward her.
“Fine!” she cried. “Throw me out! Mix the herbs yourself! You and Stefny heal the ones that vomit blood and catch demon fever! Deliver your own babies while you’re at it! Brew your own cures! Make your own flamesticks! What do you need to put up with the hag for?”
“What, indeed?” Darsy asked. Everyone stared at her as she strode up to Smitt.
“I can mix herbs and deliver babies as well as she can,” Darsy said.
“Hah!” Bruna said. Even Smitt looked at her doubtfully.
Darsy ignored her. “I say it’s time for a change,” she said. “I may not have a hundred years of experience like Bruna, but I won’t go around bullying everyone, either.”
Smitt scratched his chin, and glanced over to Bruna, who cackled.
“Go on,” she dared. “I could use the rest. But don’t come begging to my hut when the sow stitches what she should have cut, and cuts what she should have stitched.”
“Perhaps Darsy deserves a chance,” Smitt said.
“Settled, then!” Bruna said, thumping her staff on the floor. “Be sure to tell the rest of the town who to go to for their cures. I’ll thank you for the peace at my hut!”
She turned to Leesha. “Come, girl, help an old crone walk home.” She took Leesha’s arm, and the two of them turned for the door.
As they passed Stefny, though, Bruna stopped, pointing her staff at her and whispering for only the three women to hear. “You say one more word against this girl, or suffer others to, and the whole town will know your shame.”
Stefny’s look of terror stayed with Leesha the whole way back to Bruna’s hut. Once they were inside, Bruna whirled on her.
“Well, girl? Is it true?” she asked.
“No!” Leesha cried. “I mean, we almost … but I told him to stop and he did!”
It sounded lame and implausible, and she knew it. Terror gripped her. Bruna was the only one who stood up for her. She thought she would die if the old woman thought her a liar, too.
“You … you can check me, if you want,” she said, her cheeks coloring. She looked at the floor, and squinted back tears.
Bruna grunted, and shook her head. “I believe you, girl.”
“Why?” Leesha asked, almost pleading. “Why would Gared lie like that?”
“Because boys get praise for the same things that get girls run out of town,” Bruna said. “Because men are ruled by what others think of their dangling worms. Because he’s a petty, hurtful little wood-brained shit with no concept of what he had.”
Leesha started to cry again. She felt like she’d been crying forever. Surely a body could not hold so many tears.
Bruna opened her arms, and Leesha fell into them. “There, there, girl,” she said. “Get it all out, and then we’ll figure out what to do.”
There was silence in Bruna’s hut while Leesha made tea. It was still early in the day, but she felt utterly drained. How could she hope to live the rest of her life in Cutter’s Hollow?
Fort Rizon is only a week away, she thought. Thousands of people. No one would hear of Gared’s lies there. I could find Klarissa and …
And what? She knew it was just a fantasy. Even if she could find a Messenger to take her, the thought of a week and more on the open road made her blood run cold, and the Rizonans were farmers, with little use for letters or papermaking. She could find a new husband, perhaps, but the thought of tying her fate to another man gave little comfort.
She brought Bruna her tea, hoping the old woman had an answer, but the Herb Gatherer said nothing, sipping quietly as Leesha knelt beside her chair.
“What am I going to do?” she asked. “I can’t hide here forever.”
“You could,” Bruna said. “Whatever Darsy boasts, she hasn’t retained a fraction of what I’ve taught her, and I haven’t taught her a fraction of what I know. The folk’ll be back soon enough, begging my help. Stay, and a year from now the people of Cutter’s Hollow won’t know how they ever got along without you.”
“My mother will never allow that,” Leesha said. “She’s still set on me marrying Gared.”
Bruna nodded. “She would be. She’s never forgiven herself for not bearing Steave’s sons. She’s determined that you correct her mistakes.”
“I won’t do it,” Leesha said. “I’ll give myself to the night before I let Gared touch me.” She was shocked to realize that she meant every word.
“That’s very brave of you, dearie,” Bruna said, but there was disdain in her tone. “So brave to throw your life away over a boy’s lie and fear of your mother.”
“I am not afraid of her!” Leesha said.
“Just of telling her you won’t marry the boy who destroyed your reputation?”
Leesha was quiet a long time before nodding. “You’re right,” she said. Bruna grunted.
Leesha stood. “I suppose I had best get it over with,” she said. Bruna said nothing.
At the door, Leesha stopped, and looked back.
“Bruna?” she asked. The old woman grunted again. “What was Stefny’s sin?”
Bruna sipped her tea. “Smitt has three beautiful children,” she said.
“Four,” Leesha corrected.
Bruna shook her head. “Stefny has four,” she said. “Smitt has three.”
Leesha’s eyes widened. “But how could that be?” she asked. “Stefny never leaves the tavern, but to go to the Holy …” She gasped.
“Even Holy Men are men,” Bruna said.
Leesha walked home slowly, trying to choose words, but in the end she knew that phrasing was meaningless. All that mattered was that she would not marry Gared, and her mother’s reaction. It was late in the day when she walked into the house. Gared and Steave would be back from the woods soon. She needed the confrontation over with before they arrived.
“Well, you’ve really made a mess of things now,” her mother said acidly as she walked in. “My daughter, the town tramp.”
“I’m not a tramp,” Leesha said. “Gared has been spreading lies.”
“Don’t you dare blame him because you couldn’t keep your legs closed!” Elona said.
“I didn’t sleep with him,” Leesha said.
“Hah!” Elona barked. “Don’t take me for a fool, Leesha. I was young once, too.”
“You’ve been ‘young’ every night this week,” Leesha said, “and Gared is still a liar.”
Elona slapped her, knocking her to the floor. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that, you little whore!” she screeched.
Leesha lay still, knowing that if she moved, her mother would hit her again. Her cheek felt like it was on fire.
Seeing her daughter humbled, Elona took a deep breath, and seemed to calm. “It’s no matter,” she said. “I’ve always thought you needed a knocking from the pedestal your idiot father put you on. You’ll marry Gared soon enough, and folk will tire of whispering eventually.”
Leesha steeled herself. “I’m not marrying him,” she said. “He’s a liar, and I won’t do it.”
“Oh, yes you will,” Elona said.
“I won’t,” Leesha said, the words giving her strength as she rose to her feet. “I won’t say the words, and there’s nothing you can do to make me.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Elona said, snatching off her belt. It was a thick leather strap with a metal buckle that she always wore loosely around her waist. Leesha thought she wore it just to have it at hand to beat her.
She came at Leesha,
who shrieked and retreated into the kitchen before realizing it was the last place she should have gone. There was only one way in or out.
She screamed as the buckle cut through her dress and into her back. Elona swung again, and Leesha threw herself at her mother in desperation. As they tumbled to the floor, she heard the door open, and Steave’s voice. At the same time, there was a questioning call from the shop.
Elona made good use of the distraction, punching her daughter full in the face. She was on her feet in an instant, whipping the belt into Leesha, drawing another scream from her lips.
“What in the Core is going on?” came a cry from the doorway. Leesha looked up to see her father struggling to get into the kitchen, blocked by Steave’s meaty arm.
“Get out of my way!” Erny cried.
“This is between them,” Steave said with a grin.
“This is my home you’re a guest in!” Erny cried. “Get out of the way!”
When Steave did not budge, Erny punched him.
Everyone froze. It wasn’t clear that Steave had felt the punch at all. He broke the sudden silence with a laugh, casually shoving Erny and sending him flying into the common room.
“You ladies settle yur differences in private,” Steave said with a wink, pulling the kitchen door shut as Leesha’s mother rounded on her once more.
Leesha wept quietly in the back room of her father’s shop, daubing gently at her cuts and bruises. Had she the proper herbs, she could have done more, but cold water and cloth were all she had.
She had fled into the shop right after her ordeal, locking the doors from the inside, and ignoring even the gentle knocks of her father. When the wounds were clean and the deepest cuts bound, Leesha curled up on the floor, shaking with pain and shame.
“You’ll marry Gared the day you bleed,” Elona had promised, “or we’ll do this every day until you do.”
Leesha knew she meant it, and knew Gared’s rumor would have many people taking her mother’s side and insisting they wed, ignoring Leesha’s bruises as they had many times before.
I won’t do it, Leesha promised herself. I’ll give myself to the night first.
Just then, a cramp wracked her guts. Leesha groaned, and felt dampness on her thighs. Terrified, she swabbed herself with a clean cloth, praying fervently, but there, like a cruel joke of the Creator, was blood.
The Warded Man Page 14