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