Marick grinned. 'I offered you a high-necked dress,' he said, 'and that offer still stands.'
'We'll see,' Leesha smiled, holding out a pouch of coins. 'Your payment,' she said.
'I'd rather you pay me with a kiss,' he said.
'You flatter me, to say my kisses are worth more than gold,' Leesha replied. 'I fear to disappoint.'
Marick laughed. 'My dear, if I braved the demons of the night all the way from Angiers and back and returned with but a kiss from you, I would be the envy of every Messenger ever to pass through Cutter's Hollow.'
'Well in that case,' Leesha said with a laugh, 'I think I'll keep my kisses a little longer, in hopes of a better price.'
'You cut me to the quick,' Marick said, clutching his heart. Leesha tossed him the pouch, and he caught it deftly.
'May I at least have the honour of escorting the Herb Gatherer into town?' he asked with a smile. He made a leg and held out his arm for her to take. Leesha smiled in spite of herself.
'I don't think we're there, yet,' she said, eying the arm, 'but you may carry my basket.' She hooked it on his outstretched arm and headed towards town, leaving him staring after her.
Smitt's market was bustling by the time they reached town. Leesha liked to select early, before the best produce was gone, and place her order with Dug the butcher before making her rounds.
'Good morn, Leesha,' said Yon Grey, the oldest man in Cutter's Hollow. His grey beard, a point of pride, was longer than most women's hair. Once a burly cutter, Yon had lost most of his bulk in his latter years, and now leaned heavily on his cane.
'Good morn, Yon,' she replied. How are the joints?'
'Pain me still,' Yon replied. "Specially the hands. Can barely hold my cane some days.'
'Yet you find it in you to pinch me whenever I turn 'round,' Leesha noted.
Yon cackled. 'To an old man like me, girlie, that's worth any pain.'
Leesha reached into her basket, pulling forth a small jar. 'It's well that I made you more sweetsalve, then,' she said. 'You've saved me the need to bring it by.'
Yon grinned. 'You're always welcome to come by and help apply,' he said with a wink.
Leesha tried not to laugh, but it was a futile effort. Yon was a dirty old man, but she liked him well enough. Living with Bruna had taught her that the eccentricities of age were a small price to pay for having a lifetime of experience to draw upon.
'You'll just have to manage yourself, I'm afraid,' she said.
'Bah!' Yon waved his cane in mock irritation. 'Well, you think on it,' he said. He looked to Marick before taking his leave, giving a nod of respect. 'Messenger.'
Marick nodded back, and the old man moved off.
Everyone at the market had a kind word of greeting for Leesha, and she stopped to ask after the health of each, always working, even while shopping.
Though she and Bruna had plenty of money from selling flamesticks and the like, no one would take so much as a klat in return for her selections. Bruna asked no money for healing, and no one asked money of her for anything else.
Marick stood protectively close as she squeezed fruit and vegetables with a practiced hand. He drew stares, but Leesha thought it was as much because he was with her than it was the presence of a stranger at market. Messengers were common enough in Cutter's Hollow.
She caught the eye of Keet - Stefhy's son, if not Smitt's. The boy was nearly eleven, and looked more and more like Tender Michel with each passing day. Stefny had kept her side of the bargain over the years, and not spoken ill of Leesha since she was apprenticed. Her secret was safe as far as Bruna was concerned, but for the life of her, Leesha could not see how Smitt failed to see the truth staring at him from the supper table each night.
She beckoned, and Keet came running. 'Bring this bag to Bruna once your chores allow,' she said, handing him her selections. She smiled at him and secretly pressed a klat into his hand.
Keet grinned widely at the gift. Adults would never take money from an Herb Gatherer, but Leesha always slipped children something for extra service. The lacquered wooden coin from Angiers was the main currency in Cutter's Hollow, and would buy Rizonan sweets for Keet and his siblings when the next Messenger came.
She was ready to leave when she saw Mairy, and moved to greet her. Her friend had been busy over the years; three children clung to her skirts now. A young glassblower named Benn had left Angiers to find his fortune in Lakton or Fort Rizon. He had stopped in the Hollow to ply his trade and raise a few more klats before the next leg of the journey, but then he met Mairy, and those plans dissolved like sugar in tea.
Now Benn plied his trade in Mairy's father's barn, and business was brisk. He bought bags of sand from Messengers out of Fort Krasia, and turned them into things of both function and beauty. The Hollow had never had a blower before, and everyone wanted glass of their own.
Leesha, too, was pleased by the development, and soon had Benn making the delicate components of distilleries shown in Bruna's books, allowing her to leach the strength from herbs and brew cures far more powerful than the Hollow had ever seen.
Soon after, Benn and Mairy wed, and before long, Leesha was pulling their first child from between Mairy's legs. Two more had followed in short order, and Leesha loved each like it was her own. She had been honoured to tears when they named their youngest after her.
'Good morning rascals,' Leesha said, squatting down and letting Mairy's children fall into her arms. She hugged them tightly and kissed them, slipping them pieces of candy wrapped in paper before rising. She made the candy herself, another thing she had learned from Bruna.
'Good morning, Leesha,' Mairy said, dipping a small curtsey. Leesha bit back a frown. She and Mairy had stayed close over the years, but Mairy looked at her differently now that she wore the pocketed apron, and nothing seemed able to change that. The curtsy seemed ingrained.
Still, Leesha treasured her friendship. Saira came secretly to Bruna's hut, begging pomm tea, but their relationship ended there. To hear the women in town tell it, Saira kept well enough entertained. Half the men in the village supposedly knocked on her door at one time or another, and she always had more money than the sewing she and her mother took in could bring.
Brianne was even worse in some ways. She had not spoken to Leesha in the last seven years, but had a bad word to say about her to everyone else. She had taken to seeing Darsy for her cures, and her dalliances with Evin had quickly given her a round belly. When Tender Michel had challenged her, she had named Evin the father, rather than face the town alone.
Evin had married Brianne with her father's pitchfork at his back and her brothers to either side, and had committed himself to making her and their son Callen miserable ever since.
Brianne had proven a fit mother and wife, but she never lost the weight she had put on during her pregnancy, and Leesha knew personally how Evin's eyes - and hands - wandered. Gossip had him knocking frequently on Saira's door.
'Good morning, Mairy,' she said. 'Have you met Messenger Marick?' Leesha turned to introduce the man, only to find he was no longer at her back.
'Oh, no,' she said, seeing him facing off with Gared across the market.
At fifteen, Gared had been bigger than any man in the village save his father. Now, at twenty-two, he was gigantic, close to seven feet of packed muscle, hardened by long days at the axe. It was said he must have Milnese blood, for no Angerian had ever been so large.
Word of his lie had spread throughout the village, and since then the girls had kept their distance, afraid to be alone with him.
Perhaps that was why he still coveted Leesha; perhaps he would have done so regardless. But Gared had not learned the lessons of the past. His ego had grown with his muscles, and now he was the bully everyone had known he would be. The boys that used to tease him now jumped at his every word, and if he was cruel to them, he was a terror to all others, especially any unwise enough to cast their eyes upon Leesha.
Gared waited for her still, acting a
s if Leesha were going to come to her senses one day and realize she belonged with him. Any attempts to convince him otherwise had been met with wood-headed stubbornness.
'You're not local,' she heard Gared say, poking Marick hard in the shoulder, 'so maybe ya haven't heard that Leesha's spoken for.' He loomed over the Messenger like a grown man over a young boy.
But Marick didn't flinch, or move at Gared's poke. He stood stark still, his wolf eyes never leaving Gared's. Leesha prayed he had the sense not to engage.
'Not according to her,' Marick replied, and Leesha's hopes fell. She started moving towards them, but already a crowd was forming around the men, denying her a clear path. She wished she had Bruna's stick to help her clear the way.
'Did she say words of promise to you, Messenger?' Gared demanded. 'She did to me.'
'So I've heard,' Marick replied. 'I've also heard you're the only fool in the Hollow who thinks those words mean a coreling's piss after you betrayed her.'
Gared roared and grabbed at the Messenger, but Marick was quicker, stepping smoothly to the side and snapping up his spear, thrusting the butt right between the woodcutter's eyes. He whipped the spear around in a smooth motion, striking behind Gared's knees as he staggered backwards, dropping him hard on his back.
Marick planted his spear back on the ground, standing over Gared, his wolf eyes coldly confident. 'I could have used the point,' he advised. 'You would do well to remember that. Leesha speaks for herself.'
Everyone in the crowd was gawking, but Leesha continued her desperate push forward, knowing Gared, and knowing that it was not over.
'Stop this idiocy!' she called. Marick glanced at her, and Gared used that moment to grab the end of his spear. The Messenger's attention snapped back, and he gripped the shaft with both hands to pull the spear free.
It was the last thing he should have done. Gared had a wood demon's strength, and even lying prone, none could match it. His corded arms flexed, and Marick found himself flying through the air.
Gared rose, and snapped the six-foot spear in half like a twig. 'Let's see how ya fight when yer not hiding behind a spear,' he said, dropping the pieces to the ground.
'Gared, no!' Leesha screamed, pushing past the last of the onlookers and grabbing his arm. He shoved her aside, never taking his eyes off Marick. The simple move sent her reeling back into the crowd, where she crashed into Dug and Niklas, going down in a tangle of bodies.
'Stop!' she cried helplessly, struggling to find her feet.
'No other man will have you,' Gared said. 'You'll have me, or you'll end up shrivelled and alone like Bruna!' He stalked towards Marick, who was only just getting his legs under him.
Gared swung a meaty fist at the Messenger, but again, Marick was quicker. He ducked the blow smoothly, landing two quick punches to Gared's body before retreating well ahead of Gared's wild return swing.
But if Gared even felt the blows, he showed no sign. They repeated the exchange, this time with Marick punching Gared full in the nose. Blood spurted, and Gared laughed, spitting it from his mouth.
'That your best?' he asked.
Marick growled and shot forward, landing a flurry of punches. Gared could not keep up and hardly tried, gritting his teeth and weathering the barrage, his face red with rage.
After a few moments, Marick withdrew, standing in a catlike fighting stance, his fists up and ready. His knuckles were skinned, and he was breathing hard. Gared seemed little the worse for wear. For the first time, there was fear in Marick's wolf eyes.
'That all ya have?' Gared asked, stalking forward again.
The Messenger came at him again, but this time, he was not so quick. He struck once, twice, and then Gared's thick fingers found purchase on his shoulder, gripping hard. The Messenger tried to pull back out of reach, but he was held fast.
Gared drove his fist into the Messenger's stomach, and the wind exploded out of him. He struck again, this time to the head, and Marick hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.
'Not so smug now, are ya!' Gared roared. Marick rose to his hands and knees, struggling to rise, but Gared kicked him hard in the stomach, flipping him over onto his back.
Leesha was darting forward by then, as Gared knelt on top of Marick, landing heavy blows.
'Leesha is mine!' he roared, 'and any what says otherwise will…!'
His words were cut short as Leesha threw a full fist of Bruna's blinding powder in his face. His mouth was already open, and he inhaled reflexively, screaming as it burned into his eyes and throat, his sinuses seizing and his skin feeling as if burned with boiling water. He fell off Marick, rolling on the ground choking and clawing at his face.
Leesha knew she had used too much of the powder. A pinch would stop most men in their tracks, but a full fist could kill, causing people to choke on their own phlegm.
She scowled and shoved past the gawkers, snatching a bucket of water Stefny had been using to wash potatoes. She dumped it over Gared, and his convulsions eased. He would be blind for hours more, but she would not have his death on her hands.
'Our vows are broken,' she told him, 'now and forever. I will never be your wife, even if it means dying shrivelled and alone! I'd as soon marry a coreling!'
Gared groaned, showing no sign he had heard.
She moved over to Marick, kneeling and helping him to sit up. She took a clean cloth and daubed at the blood on his face. Already he was starting to swell and bruise.
'I guess we showed him, eh?' the Messenger asked, chuckling weakly and wincing at the pain it brought to his face.
Leesha poured some of the harsh alcohol Smitt brewed in his basement onto the cloth.
'Aahhh!' Marick gasped, as she touched him with it.
'Serves you right,' Leesha said. 'You could have walked away from that fight, and you should have, whether you could have won or not. I didn't need your protection, and I'm no more likely to give my affection to a man who thinks picking a fight is going to gain the favour of an Herb Gatherer than I am the town bully.'
'He was the one that started it!' Marick protested.
'I'm disappointed in you, Master Marick,' Leesha said. 'I thought Messengers came smarter than that.' Marick dropped his eyes.
'Take him to his room at Smitt's,' she said to some nearby men, and they moved quickly to obey. Most folk in Cutter's Hollow did, these days.
'If you're out of bed before tomorrow morning,' Leesha told the Messenger, 'I'll hear of it and be even more cross with you.'
Marick smiled weakly as the men helped him away.
'That was amazing!' Mairy gasped, when Leesha returned for her basket of herbs.
'It was nothing but stupidity that needed stopping,' Leesha snapped.
'Nothing?' Mairy asked. 'Two men locked together like bulls, and all you had to do to stop them was throw a handful of herbs!'
'Hurting with herbs is easy,' Leesha said, surprised to find Bruna's words on her lips, 'it's healing with them that's hard.'
It was well past high sun by the time Leesha finished her rounds and made it back to Bruna's hut.
'How are the children?' Bruna asked, as Leesha set her basket down. Leesha smiled. Everyone in Cutter's Hollow was a child in Bruna's eyes.
'Well enough,' she said, coming to sit on the low stool by Bruna's chair so the ancient Herb Gatherer could see her clearly. 'Yon Grey's joints still ache, but his mind is as young as ever. I gave him fresh sweetsalve. Smitt remains abed, but his cough is lessening. I think the worst is past.' She went on, describing her rounds while the crone nodded silently. Bruna would stop her if she had comment; she seldom did anymore.
'Is that all?' Bruna asked. 'What of the excitement young Keet tells me went on in the market this morning?'
'Idiocy is more like it,' Leesha said.
Bruna dismissed her with a wave. 'Boys will be boys,' she said. 'Even when they're men. It sounds like you dealt with it well enough.'
'Bruna, they could have killed each other!' Leesha said.
'Oh, p
faw!' Bruna said. 'You're not the first pretty girl to have men fight over her. You may not believe it, but when I was your age, a few bones were broken on my account, as well.'
'You were never my age,' Leesha teased. 'Yon Gray says they called you 'hag' when he was first learning to walk.'
Bruna cackled. 'So they did, so they did,' she said. 'But there was a time before then when my paps were as full and smooth as yours, and men fought like corelings to suckle them.'
Leesha looked hard at Bruna, trying to peel back the years and see the woman she had been, but it was a hopeless task. Even with all the exaggerations and tampweed tales taken into account, Bruna was a century old, at least. She would never say for sure, answering simply, 'I quit counting at a hundred,' whenever pressed.
'In any event,' Leesha said, 'Marick may be a bit swollen in the face, but he'll have no reason not to be on the road tomorrow.'
'That's well,' Bruna said.
'So you have a cure for Mistress Jizell's young charge?' Leesha asked.
'What would you tell her to do with the boy?' Bruna replied.
'I'm sure I don't know,' Leesha said.
'Are you?' Bruna asked. 'I'm not. Come now, what would you tell Jizell if you were me? Don't pretend you haven't thought about it.'
Leesha took a deep breath. 'The grimroot likely interacted poorly with the boy's system,' she said. 'He needs to be taken off it, and the boils will need to be lanced and drained. Of course, that still leaves his original illness. The fever and nausea could just be a chill, but the dilated eyes and vomit hint at more. I would try monkleaf with lady's brooch and ground adderbark, titrated carefully over a week at least.'
Bruna looked at her a long time, then nodded.
'Pack your things and say your goodbyes,' she said. 'You'll bring that advice to Jizell personally.'
14
The Road to Angiers
325AR
Every afternoon without fail, Erny came up the path to Bruna's hut. The Hollow had six Warders, each with an apprentice, but Erny did not trust his daughter's safety to anyone else. The little papermaker was the best Warder in Cutter's Hollow, and everyone knew it.
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