“They whisper in my mind. I see images, shapes, and sometimes words. Once they learn to trust you, they will start talking with you as well. You’re ready. You also will find that you can hear my thoughts and occasionally those of other people. The keeper’s gift seems to include mind reading.”
With that proclamation, things got weirder for me. The weirdness continues to this day. I admit that the little creatures are helpful and that I indeed learned how to talk with them in my mind. They show me how the plants think. I can feel the water rising underneath the bark of the trees, the tender grass dripping with dew, and the light touch of a honeybee’s tongue. Still, I can hardly call the green things in the forest my friends. Unlike my mother, my life doesn’t completely revolve around the garden. I have questions and thoughts that grasp beyond the gardens, the village, and even the ruins of the cities I’ve never seen. I doubt the creatures understand how tired I feel or how angry Wenn and my father make me sometimes. They disappear as soon as I begin to ask the questions that plague me such as: “Who are you?” As for the mind reading, I never quite understood what mom meant by that. I’ve never heard anything but the green ones and my own voice in my head.
Another day harvesting seeds and clearing brush is nearing its end and I’m weary to the marrow once again. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me but the prospect of cooking a meal for Wenn and father is not looking good. They’ll have to fend for themselves on stale bread and cold stew. They can take advantage of the harvest. I have a basket of fresh vegetables for them to eat. The peas are particularly sweet. I begin lumbering down the dirt path toward home when I hear steps behind me. Fear’s not a feeling I understand or condone. I stop and turn. Theo’s standing there in the fading light, his shoulders broad and straight.
I set down my basket and put my hands on my hips. “Theo. I’m getting a little worried about you. It isn’t like you to stalk me or anyone for that matter.”
Theo chortles, then his face falls. “Amy. Serious now. I got this feeling that things are changing. You know I like to kid and play, but something is up this coming winter. I can feel, taste, a wrongness in the wind. It may sound funny. But I think it has to do with you.”
“By gods of the forest Theo. It’s a little early to be dipping into the shine. Shouldn’t you be out snaring rabbits in the grassland?” I have to admit, he’s making me feel a bit nervous, the look on his face uncharacteristically grim.
“I’m sure it’s silliness. But you wouldn’t mind a little company on the way home? Besides, I’ve some news for Wenn. There be opportunities to the south that might be profitable for us.”
“Profit, hmm?” I’m thankful that we aren’t lingering on the topic of danger and winter. “Did your friend Bets find another jewelry shop in the rubble of the city?“
“Sprouter, you know better than that. We don’t make hazardous trips for something as silly as rare metals or rocks. The ruins provide raw material for all the tools we use. And you never seem to complain when we bring some paper and pencils back with us.”
“Theo, you’re a terrible liar. I know how much you can benefit by providing a bauble to a passing merchant. And the white rocks are not only pretty but great for cutting glass. It’s just that there is so much risk around those old structures. You know what happened to Robison and Franks. They were messing around in one of those glass boxes rather than gathering iron. And in a wink the rest of the crew was pulling what was left of them out of shards of glass and rock. There are still shreds of them in that heap. We all have to rely on each other. There’s no room for selfishness. And for you to drag Wenn into this—”
“Gods alive. You’re not my mother. Quit your nagging. Bets and I are capable of protecting ourselves.” Theo’s grinning like a weasel. “And I just want to borrow a horse from Wenn. You can keep caring for him while we’re away.”
“You are getting no horse from us.”
“We’ll see what Wenn has to say about that.”
“It is my house, not Wenn’s. I will have the final say, Theo. Be careful or you won’t be getting that barley you so love for making ale.”
The remainder of the trek is spent in silence.
We arrive at my home, a modest wooden building with a few rooms and a moss covered roof. My treasured apple trees line the path to the front door. The house has been a part of my mother’s family for generations. Wenn moved in with father and me when we married. The windows are dark and no smoke billows from the chimney. Wenn and father are either still in the shop or have stopped at Wagnet’s, the town pub and informal gathering place, for mead and shine before heading home. Theo bows to me and leaps into the street, heading toward Wagnet’s. I think he knows something that I don’t.
I gather some wood and conjure a small fire. I pop open a flask and pour the contents into a pewter cup, which I warm over the flames. The fumes of the drink engulf me and the cords of muscle in my back relax. The men can starve for all I care.
Chapter 46 – Fromer the God
I drift to that placid night when the god appeared to me and father. The god loomed over us, even in the distance. I remember hearing a raspy whir before I could discern his physical features. The creature was flanked by six of the little green people. Father shifted and stared, so I was sure that I wasn’t hallucinating. Strangely, neither of us seemed to feel fear, but rather a mixture of comfort and curiosity at the sight.
“Hello, I’m Fromer,” the creature spoke in our tongue. He was at least twice as tall as me with thick, glossy black skin. His eyes were faceted, like those of a dragonfly, although his face was clearly like ours. A light emerald glow emanated from his body — the cool flame of a firefly. We waited anxiously for his next words. Strangely, he asked for tea. Before I turned to the house to brew a pot, it was clear that father could only see the god and not his emerald companions. The green people were sitting on the bench I’d just left, gazing at father with their heads tilted. Perhaps they were as curious about our reaction as we were about being confronted by a god walking out of the woods on such an otherwise ordinary night.
I quickly got the water to boil and headed back out to see the strange meeting. The god Fromer was perched on a tree stump with his chin in his hands. Father was guffawing. I’d never heard him laugh like that.
“Amy, my girl, come bring us the tea. Fromer here’s telling me a story about your granddad and your great uncle Aine. Turns out that they tried to steal a mule from Gringsville. They ended up being caught and forced to stand in the town square covered with manure and hay as punishment. Can you imagine? Your tight-laced, pain in the arse grandfather doing something like that?” He shook his head.
The stranger wore a buggy sort of bemused gaze on his face. He saw me with the pot and clapped his large hands in approval.
I poured the tea and shooed the green ones away. “Mister Fromer. Who are you? Where do you come from?”
Father interrupted, betraying his caution about being visited by a god. “Amy, don’t be rude to our guest here. I’m sure Fromer will be happy to tell us who he is in time.”
Our guest took a sip and chortled, a low rumbling in his chest. “Amy. I’m so very glad we finally meet. You can drop the formalities. I just go by the name Fromer if you don’t mind. It’s going to be a bit hard for me to explain who I am or what I’m doing here.” He paused and let the steam from the tea draw toward his chest. I wondered why it was going down there rather than into his nostrils. “I suppose I’m a traveler of sorts. I’ve had the opportunity to see things the way they really are and I’ve been lucky enough to be able to move through time like you move from your house to your beloved gardens.”