But now Bruna sat back as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, the clicks of her knitting and the crackle of the fire the only sounds in the room.
‘What did you do to that demon?’ Leesha asked, when she could stand it no longer.
‘Liquid demonfire,’ Bruna said. ‘Difficult to make. Very dangerous. But it’s the only thing I know that can stop a wood demon. Woodies are immune to normal flames, but liquid demonfire burns as hot as firespit.’
‘I didn’t know anything could kill a demon,’ Leesha said.
‘I told you before, girl, that Herb Gatherers guard the science of the old world,’ Bruna said. She grunted and spat on the floor. ‘A scant few of us, anyway. I may be the last to know that infernal recipe.’
‘Why not share it?’ Leesha said. ‘We could be free of the demons forever.’
Bruna cackled. ‘Free?’ she asked. ‘Free to burn the village to the ground, perhaps. Free to set the woods on fire. No heat known can do more than tickle a flame demon, or give a rock demon pause. No fire can burn higher than a wind demon can soar, or set a lake or pond alight to reach a water demon.’
‘But still,’ Leesha pressed, ‘what you did tonight shows how useful it could be. You saved my life.’
Bruna nodded. ‘We keep the knowledge of the old world for the day it will be needed again, but that knowledge comes with a great responsibility. If the histories of the ancient wars of man tell us anything, it’s that men cannot be trusted with the secrets of fire.
‘That’s why Herb Gatherers are always women,’ she went on. ‘Men cannot hold such power without using it. I’ll sell thundersticks and festival crackers to Smitt, dearly, but I won’t tell him how they’re made.’
‘Darsy’s a woman,’ Leesha said, ‘but you never taught her, either.’
Bruna snorted. ‘Even if that cow was smart enough to mix the chemics without setting herself on fire, she’s practically a man in her thinking. I’d no sooner teach her to brew demonfire or flame powder than I would Steave.’
‘They’re going to come looking for me tomorrow,’ Leesha said.
Bruna pointed at Leesha’s cooling tea. ‘Drink,’ she ordered. ‘We’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes.’
Leesha did as she was told, noting the sour taste of tamp-weed and the bitterness of skyflower as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Distantly, she was aware of dropping her cup.
Morning brought pain with it. Bruna put stiffroot in Leesha’s tea to dull the ache of her bruises and the cramps that clutched her abdomen, but the mixture played havoc with her senses. She felt as if she were floating above the cot she lay upon, and yet her limbs felt leaden.
Erny arrived not long after dawn. He burst into tears at the sight of her, kneeling by the cot and clutching her tightly. ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ he sobbed.
Leesha reached out weakly, running her fingers through his thinning hair. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she whispered.
‘I should have stood up to your mother long ago,’ he said.
‘That’s undersaid,’ Bruna grunted from her knitting. ‘No man should let his wife walk over him so.’
Erny nodded, having no retort. His face screwed up, and more tears appeared behind his spectacles.
There was a pounding at the door. Bruna looked at Erny, who went to open it.
‘Is she here?’ Leesha heard her mother’s voice, and the cramps doubled. She felt too weak to fight anymore. She couldn’t even find the strength to stand.
A moment later Elona appeared, Gared and Steave at her heels like a pair of hounds.
‘There you are, you worthless girl!’ Elona cried. ‘Do you know the fright you gave me, running off into the night like that? We’ve got half the village out looking for you! I should beat you within an inch of your life!’
‘No one’s beating anyone, Elona,’ Erny said. ‘If there’s blame to be had, it’s yours.’
‘Shut up, Erny,’ Elona said. ‘It your fault she’s so wilful, coddling her all the time.’
‘I won’t shut up,’ Erny said, coming to face his wife.
‘You will if you know what’s good for ya,’ Steave warned, balling a fist.
Erny looked at him and swallowed hard. ‘I’m not afraid of you,’ he said, but it came out as a squeak. Gared snickered.
Steave grabbed Erny by the front of his shirt, lifting him clear off the ground with one hand as he drew back his hamlike fist.
‘You’re going to stop acting like a fool,’ Elona told him, ‘and you,’ she turned to Leesha, ‘are coming home with us this instant.’
‘She’s not going anywhere,’ Bruna said, setting down her knitting and leaning on her stick as she rose to her feet. ‘The only ones leaving are you three.’
‘Shut it, you old witch,’ Elona said. ‘I won’t let you ruin my daughter’s life the way you did mine.’
Bruna snorted. ‘Did I pour pomm tea down your throat and force you to open your legs all about town?’ she asked. ‘Your misery is your own doing. Now get out of my hut.’
Elona rounded on her. ‘Or you’ll do what?’ she challenged.
Bruna gave a toothless smile and slammed her stick down on Elona’s foot, bringing a scream from the younger woman’s lips. She followed the blow with one to the gut, doubling Elona over and cutting her outburst short.
‘Here, now!’ Steave cried. Tossing poor Erny aside, he and Gared rushed the old woman.
Bruna seemed no more concerned than she had at the wood demon’s charge. She reached into her shawl and brought forth a fistful of powder, blowing it into the faces of the two men.
Gared and Steave fell to the floor, clutching their faces and screaming.
‘There’s more where that came from, Elona,’ Bruna said. ‘I’ll see you all blind before I take orders in my own home.’
Elona scampered for the door on all fours, shielding her face with her arm as she went. Bruna laughed, helping Elona out the door with a powerful blow to the posterior.
‘Off with you two!’ she shouted at Gared and Steave. ‘Out, before I set you both afire!’ The two men fumbled blindly, moaning in pain, their red faces awash in tears. Bruna swatted at them with her stick, guiding them out the door as she would a dog that had peed on the floor.
‘Come back at your peril!’ Bruna cackled wildly as they ran from her yard.
There was another knock, later in the day. Leesha was up and about by then, but still weak. ‘What now?’ Bruna barked. ‘I haven’t had this many visitors in one day since my paps sagged!’
She stomped over to the door, opening it to find Smitt standing there, wringing his hands nervously. Bruna’s eyes narrowed as she regarded him.
‘I’m retired,’ she said. ‘Fetch Darsy.’ She started to close the door.
‘Wait, please,’ Smitt begged, reaching out to hold the door open. Bruna scowled, and he drew the hand back as if it had been