The Painted Man

‘Maybe so, but not any more,’ 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 braid 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.

‘The demons without echo the demons within,’ he said.

Klarissa had been well loved, but after that, the town had quickly turned. Women shunned her, whispering behind her passage, and men refused to meet her eyes while their wives were about, making lewd comments when they were not.

Klarissa had left with a Messenger bound for Fort Rizon soon after the boy was weaned, and never returned. Leesha missed her.

‘I wonder what Bruna wanted when she sent Jona,’ Leesha said.

‘I hate that little runt,’ Gared growled. ‘Every time he looks at you, I can see him imagining you as his wife.’

‘What do you care,’ Leesha asked, ‘if imagination is all it is?’

‘I won’t share you, even in other men’s dreams,’ Gared said, putting his giant hand over hers under the table. Leesha sighed and leaned in to him. Bruna could wait.

Just then, Smitt stood, legs shaky with ale, and banged his stein on the table. ‘Everyone! Your attention, please!’ His wife, Stefny, helped him stand up on the bench, propping him when he wobbled. The crowd quieted, and Smitt cleared his throat. He might dislike giving orders, but he liked giving speeches well enough.

‘It’s the worst times that bring out the best in us,’ he began. ‘But it’s them times that show the Creator our mettle. Show that we’ve mended our ways and are worthy for him to send the Deliverer and end the Plague. Show that the evil of the night cannot take our sense of family.

‘Because that’s what Cutter’s Hollow is,’ Smitt went on. ‘A family. Oh, we bicker and fight and play favourites, but when the corelings come, we see those ties of family like the strings of a loom, tying us all together. Whatever our differences, no one is left to them.

‘Four houses lost their wards in the night,’ Smitt told the crowd, ‘putting a score at the corelings’ absent mercy. But due to heroism out in the naked night, only seven were taken.

‘Niklas!’ Smitt shouted, pointing at the sandy-haired man sitting across from him, ‘ran into a burning house to pull his mother out!

‘Jow!’ He pointed to another man, who jumped at the sound. ‘Not two days ago, he and Dav were before me, arguing all the way to blows. But last night, Jow hit a wood demon, a wood demon, with his axe to hold it off while Dav and his family ran across his wards!’

Smitt hopped up on the table, passion lending agility to his drunken body. He walked its length, calling people by name, and telling of their deeds in the night. ‘Heroes were found in the day, as well,’ he went on. ‘Gared and Steave!’ he cried, pointing. ‘Left their own house to burn to douse those that had a better chance! Because of them and others, only eight houses burned, when by rights it should have been the whole town!’

Smitt turned, and suddenly he was looking right at Leesha. His hand raised, and the finger he pointed at her struck her like a fist. ‘Leesha!’ he called. ‘Thirteen years old, and she saved Gatherer Bruna’s life!

‘In every person in Cutter’s Hollow beats the heart of a hero!’ Smitt said, sweeping his hand over all. ‘The corelings test us, and tragedy tempers us, but like Milnese steel, Cutter’s Hollow will not break!’

The crowd roared in approval. Those who had lost loved ones cried the loudest, screaming through cheeks wet with tears.

Smitt stood in the centre of the din, soaking in its strength. After a time, he patted his hands, and the villagers quieted.

‘Tender Michel,’ he said, gesturing to the man, ‘has opened the Holy House to the wounded, and Stefny and Darsy have volunteered to spend the night there tending them. Michel also offers the Creator’s wards to all others who have nowhere else to go.’

Smitt raised a fist. ‘But hard pews are not where heroes should lay their heads! Not when they’re amongst family. My tavern can hold ten comfortably, and more if need be. Who else among us will share their wards and their beds to heroes?’

Everyone shouted again, this time louder, and Smitt broke into a wide smile. He patted his hands again. ‘The Creator smiles on you all,’ he said, ‘but the hour grows late. I’ll assign …’

Elona stood up. She too had drunk a few mugs, and her words slurred. ‘Erny and I will take in Gared and Steave,’ she said, causing Erny to look sharply at her. ‘We’ve plenty of room, and with Gared and Leesha promised, they’re practically family already.’

‘That’s very generous of you, Elona,’ Smitt said, unable to hide his surprise. Rarely did Elona show generosity, and even then, there was usually a hidden price.

‘Are you sure that’s proper?’ Stefny asked loudly, causing everyone to turn their eyes to her. When she wasn’t working in her husband’s tavern, Stefny was volunteering at the Holy House, or studying the Canon. She hated Elona – a mark in her favour in Leesha’s mind – but she had also been the first to turn on Klarissa when her state became clear.

‘Two promised children living under one roof?’ Stefny asked. but her eyes flicked to Steave, not Gared. ‘Who knows what improprieties might occur? Perhaps it would be best for you to take in others, and let Gared and Steave stay at the tavern.’

Elona’s eyes narrowed. ‘I think three parents enough to chaperone two children, Stefny,’ she said icily. She turned to Gared, squeezing his broad shoulders. ‘My soon-to-be-son-in-law did the work of five men today,’ she said. ‘And Steave,’ she reached out and drunkenly poked the man’s burly chest, ‘did the work of ten.’

She spun back towards Leesha, but stumbled a bit. Steave, laughing, caught her about the waist before she fell. His hand was huge on her slender midsection. ‘Even my,’ she swallowed the word ‘useless’, but Leesha heard it anyway, ‘daughter did great deeds today. I’ll not have my heroes bed down in some other’s home.’

Stefny scowled, but the rest of the villagers took the matter as closed, and started offering up their own homes to the others in need.

Elona stumbled again, falling into Steave’s lap with a laugh. ‘You can sleep in Leesha’s room,’ she told him. ‘It’s right next to mine.’ She dropped her voice at that last part, but she was drunk, and everyone heard. Gared blushed, Steave laughed, and Erny hung his head. Leesha felt a stab of sympathy for her father.

‘I wish the corelings had taken her last night,’ she muttered.

Her father looked up at her. ‘Don’t ever say that,’ he said. ‘Not about anyone.’ He looked hard at Leesha until she nodded.

‘Besides,’ he added sadly, ‘they’d probably just give her right back.’

Accommodations had been made for all, and people were preparing to leave when there was a murmur, and the crowd parted. Through that gap limped Hag Bruna.

Child Jona held one of the woman’s arms as she walked. Leesha leapt to her feet to take her other. ‘Bruna, you shouldn’t be up,’ she admonished. ‘You should be resting!’

‘It’s your own fault, girl,’ Bruna snapped. ‘There’s those sicker than I, and I need herbs from my hut to treat them. If your bodyguard,’ she glared at Gared and he fell back in fright, ‘had let Jona bring my message, I could have sent you with a list. But now it’s late, and I’ll have to go with you. We can stay behind my wards for the night, and come back in the morn.’

‘Why me?’ Leesha asked.

‘Because none of the other lackwit girls in this town can read!’ Bruna shrieked. ‘They’d mix up the labels on the bottles worse’n that cow Darsy!’

‘Jona can read,’ Leesha said.

‘I offered to go,’ the acolyte began, but Bruna slammed her stick down on his foot, cutting his words off in a yelp.

‘Herb Gathering is women’s work, girl,’ Bruna said. ‘Holy Men are just there to pray while we do it.’

‘I …’ Leesha began, looking back at her parents for an escape.

‘I think it’s a fine idea,’ Elona said, finally extricating herself from Steave’s lap. ‘Spend the night at Bruna’s.’ She shoved Leesha forward. ‘My daughter is glad to help,’ she said with a broad smile.

‘Perhaps Gared should go as well?’ Steave suggested, kicking his son.

‘You’ll need a strong back to carry your herbs and potions back in the morning,’ Elona agreed, pulling Gared up.

The ancient Herb Gatherer glared at her, then at Steave, but nodded finally.

The trip to Bruna’s was slow, the hag setting a shuffling crawl of a pace. They made it to the hut just before sunset.

‘Check the wards, boy,’ Bruna told Gared. While he complied, Leesha took her inside, setting the old woman down in a cushioned chair, and laying a quilt blanket over her. Bruna was breathing hard, and Leesha feared she would start coughing again any minute. She filled the kettle and laid wood and tinder in the hearth, casting her eyes about for flint and steel.

‘The box on the mantel,’ Bruna said, and Leesha noticed the small wooden box. She opened it, but there was no flint or steel within, only short wooden sticks with some kind of clay at the ends. She picked up two and tried rubbing them together.

‘Not like that, girl!’ Bruna snapped. ‘Have you never seen a flamestick?’

Leesha shook her head. ‘Da keeps some in the shop where he mixes chemics,’ Leesha said, ‘but I’m not to go in there.’

The old Herb Gatherer sighed and beckoned the girl over. She took one of the sticks and braced it against her gnarled, dry thumbnail. She flicked her thumb, and the end of the stick burst into flame. Leesha’s eyes bulged.

‘There’s more to Herb Gathering than plants, girl,’ Bruna said, touching the flame to a taper before the flamestick burned out. She lit a lamp, and handed the taper to Leesha. She held the lamp out, illuminating a dusty shelf filled with books in its flickering light.

‘Sweet day!’ Leesha exclaimed. ‘You have more books than Tender Michel!’

‘These aren’t witless stories censored by the Holy Men, girl. Herb Gatherers are keepers of a bit of the knowledge of the old world, from back before the Return, when the demons burned the great libraries.’

‘Science?’ Leesha asked. ‘Was that not the hubris that brought on the Plague?’

‘That’s Michel talking,’ Bruna said. ‘If I’d known that boy would grow into such a pompous ass, I’d have left him between his mother’s legs. It was science, as much as magic, that drove the corelings off the first time. The sagas tell of great Herb Gatherers healing mortal wounds, and mixing herbs and minerals that killed demons by the score with fire and poison.’

Leesha was about to ask another question when Gared returned. Bruna waved her towards the hearth, and Leesha lit the fire and set the kettle over it. Soon the water was boiling, and Bruna reached into the many pockets of her robe, putting her special mixture of herbs in her cup, and tea in Leesha’s and Gared’s. Her hands were quick, but Leesha still noticed the old woman throw something extra in Gared’s cup.

She poured the water, and they all sipped in an awkward silence. Gared drank his quickly, and soon began rubbing his face. A moment later, he slumped over, fast asleep.

‘You put something in his tea,’ Leesha accused.

The old woman cackled. ‘Tampweed resin and skyflower pollen,’ she said. ‘Each with many uses alone, but together, a pinch can put a bull to sleep.’

‘But why?’ Leesha asked.

Bruna smiled, but it was a frightening thing. ‘Call it chaperoning,’ she said. ‘Promised or no, you can’t trust a boy of fifteen summers alone with a young girl at night.’

‘Then why let him come along?’ Leesha asked.

Bruna shook her head. ‘I told your father not to marry that shrew, but she dangled her udders at him and left him dizzy,’ she sighed. ‘Drunk as they are, Steave and your mum are going to have at it no matter who’s in the house,’ she said. ‘But that don’t mean Gared ought to hear it. Boys are bad enough at his age, as is.’

Leesha’s eyes bulged. ‘My mother would never …!’

‘Careful finishing that sentence, girl,’ Bruna cut her off. ‘The Creator abhors a liar.’

Leesha deflated. She knew what Elona was like. ‘Gared’s not like that, though,’ she said.

Bruna snorted. ‘Midwife a village and tell me that,’ she said.

‘It wouldn’t even matter if I was flowered,’ Leesha said. ‘Then Gared and I could marry, and I could do for him as a wife should.’

‘Eager for that, are you?’ Bruna said with a wicked grin. ‘It’s no sad affair, I’ll admit. Men have more uses than swinging axes and carrying heavy things.’

‘What’s taking so long?’ Leesha asked. ‘Saira and Mairy reddened their sheets in their twelfth summers, and this will be my thirteenth! What could be wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Bruna said. ‘Each girl bleeds in her own time. It may be you have a year yet, or more.’

‘A year!’ Leesha exclaimed.

‘Don’t be so quick to leave childhood behind, girl,’ Bruna said. ‘You’ll find you miss it when it’s gone. There’s more to the world than lying under a man and making his babies.’

‘But what else could compare?’ Leesha asked.

Bruna gestured to her shelf. ‘Choose a book,’ she said. ‘Any book. Bring it here, and I’ll show you what else the world can offer.’

5

Crowded Home 319 AR

Leesha woke with a start as Bruna’s old rooster crowed to mark the dawn. She rubbed her face, feeling the imprint of the book on her cheek. Gared and Bruna were still fast asleep. The Herb Gatherer had passed out early, but despite her own fatigue, Leesha kept on reading late into the night. She had thought Herb Gathering was just setting bones and birthing babes, but there was so much more. Herb Gatherers studied the entire natural world, finding ways to combine the Creator’s many gifts for the benefit of His children.

Leesha took the ribbon that held back her dark hair and laid it across the page, closing the book as reverently as she did the Canon. She rose and stretched, laying fresh wood on the fire and stirring the embers into a flame. She put the kettle on, and then went over to shake Gared.

‘Wake up, lazybones,’ she said, keeping her voice low. Gared only groaned. Whatever Bruna had given him, it was strong. She shook harder, and he swatted at her, eyes still closed.

‘Get up or there’ll be no breakfast for you,’ Leesha laughed, kicking him.

Gared groaned again, and his eyes cracked. When Leesha drew her foot back a second time, he reached out and grabbed her leg, pulling her down on top of him with a yelp.

He rolled on top of her, encircling her in his burly arms, and Leesha giggled at his kisses.

‘Stop it,’ she said, swatting at him half-heartedly, ‘you’ll wake Bruna.’

‘So what if I do?’ Gared asked. ‘The old hag is a hundred years old and blind as a bat.’

‘The hag’s ears are still sharp,’ Bruna said, cracking open one of her milky white eyes.

Gared yelped and practically flew to his feet, distancing himself from Leesha and Bruna both.

‘You keep your hands to yourself in my home, boy, or I’ll brew a potion to keep your manhood slack for a year,’ Bruna said. Leesha saw the colour drain from Gared’s face, and bit her lip to keep from laughing. For some reason, Bruna no longer frightened her, but she loved watching the old woman intimidate everyone else.

‘We understand one another?’ Bruna asked.

‘Yes’m,’ Gared said immediately.

‘Good,’ Bruna said. ‘Now put those burly shoulders to work and split some wood for the firebox.’ Gared was out the door before she finished. Leesha laughed as the door slammed.

‘Liked that, did you?’ Bruna asked.

‘I’ve never seen anyone send Gared scurrying like that,’ Leesha said.

‘Come closer, so I can see you,’ Bruna said. When Leesha did, she went on, ‘Being village healer is more than brewing potions. A strong dose of fear is good for the biggest boy in the village. Maybe help him think twice before hurting someone.’

‘Gared would never hurt anyone,’ Leesha said.

‘As you say,’ Bruna said, but she didn’t sound at all convinced.

‘Could you really have made a potion to take his manhood away?’ Leesha asked.

Bruna cackled. ‘Not for a year,’ she said. ‘Not with one dose, anyway. But a few days, or even a week? As easily as I dosed his tea.’

Leesha looked thoughtful.

‘What is it, girl?’ Bruna asked. ‘Having doubts your boy will leave you unplucked before your wedding?’

‘I was thinking more on Steave,’ Leesha said.

Bruna nodded. ‘And well you should,’ she advised. ‘But have a care. Your mother is wise to the trick. She came to me often when she was young, needing Gatherer’s tricks to stem her flow and keep her from getting with child while she had her fun. I didn’t see her for what she was, then, and I’m sad to say I taught her more than I should have.’

‘Mum wasn’t a virgin when Da carried her across his wards?’ Leesha asked in shock.

Bruna snorted. ‘Half the town had a roll with her before Steave drove the others away.’

Leesha’s jaw dropped. ‘Mum condemned Klarissa when she got with child,’ she said.

Bruna spat on the floor. ‘Everyone turned on that poor girl. Hypocrites, all! Smitt talks of family, but he didn’t lift a finger when his wife led the town after that girl like a pack of flame demons. Half those women pointing at her and crying ‘Sin!’ were guilty of the same deed, they were just lucky enough to marry fast, or smart enough to take precautions.’

‘Precautions?’ Leesha asked.

Bruna shook her head. ‘Elona’s so eager to have a grandson she’s kept you in the dark about everything, eh?’ she asked. ‘Tell me, girl, how are babies made?’

Leesha blushed. ‘The man, I mean, your husband … He …’

‘Out with it, girl,’ Bruna snapped, ‘I’m too old to wait for the red to leave your face.’

‘He spends his seed in you,’ Leesha said, her face reddening further.

Bruna cackled. ‘You can treat burns and demon wounds, but blush at how life is made?’

Leesha opened her mouth to reply, but Bruna cut her off.

‘Make your boy spend his seed on your belly, and you can lie with him to your heart’s content,’ Bruna said. ‘But boys can’t be trusted to pull from you in time, as Klarissa learned. The smarter ones come to me for tea.’

‘Tea?’ Leesha asked, leaning on every word.

‘Pomm leaves, leached in the right dose with some other herbs, create a tea that will keep a man’s seed from taking root.’

‘But Tender Michel says …’ Leesha began.

‘Spare me the recitation from the Canon,’ Bruna cut her off. ‘It’s a book written by men, without a thought given towards the plight of women.’

Leesha’s mouth closed with a click.

‘Your mum visited me often,’ Bruna went on, ‘asking questions, helping me around the hut, grinding herbs for me. I had thought to make her my apprentice, but all she wanted was the secret of the tea. Once I told her how it was made, she left and never returned.’

‘That does sound like her,’ Leesha said.

‘Pomm tea is safe enough in small doses,’ Bruna said, ‘but Steave is lusty, and your mother took too much. The two of them must have slapped stomachs a thousand times before your father’s business began to prosper, and his purse caught her eye. By then, your mum’s womb was scraped dry.’