“I’ll take your request back to the mistress. You can go on around to the well to water your mule.”
As Talen walked back off the step, he got a feeling someone was looking at him. He turned and he saw a curtain slide back into place. Talen could just see the outline of someone through the curtain. Could that be Atra?
Talen smiled, then the person moved the curtain slightly, very slightly and stared at him.
It was Elan. Mad Elan, Atra’s older half-wit sister, hiding where she obviously thought Talen could not see her. She had a mole on her face from which long hairs grew and an awful habit of chasing boys and giving them huge slobbery kisses. As a child he’d been terrified of her. She had caught him once, and he’d had to scream bloody murder to escape. She still put him on edge.
Some had suggested the glass master sacrifice her. It was common for the lame, blind, or maimed to give themselves up to the Divines. When a war is being waged and you cannot see, you can still give Fire to those who can. If you cannot lift a sword, you can give Fire that will allow a man to wield his sword with incredible might. In fact, the glass master had offered her up once for the war weaves a few years back. Or so it was said. But they hadn’t needed her or hadn’t the time to draw her. And so Elan was still with them.
He hoped Elan had learned to keep her affections to herself. Him being chased around the glass master’s yard simply would not do.
He motioned Nettle to take the wagon around to the trough. He could smell the smoke from the glassworks, but he could also smell the cold well water, a whiff of leather, hay, a rose. It was odd. There were suddenly too many smells. And he realized he’d been smelling too many things for some time now.
He glanced to the back of the house where the women were. Their talking had quieted. One woman sat breaking beans, glancing his way. Then he saw Atra. She walked past the other woman, picked up a basket, then walked out of his line of sight.
He heard a sound from behind. He turned slightly. Someone hid halfway behind a tree trunk a few paces behind him, holding a long arching stem of wild, white rose.
“Hoy, Elan,” said Talen.
She quickly moved back behind the tree.
He wondered if half-wits had any special feelings for the opposite sex. You couldn’t tell for sure because her face defied a precise age, but he guessed Elan was perhaps twenty-five years old: well beyond the age of marriage. He wondered if she dreamed of some handsome man giving her children and if she knew that such a dream would never become reality for her.
“There’s a fine scent on the breeze that I cannot identify,” he said. “I wish I knew what it was.”
He glanced back, but she did not reveal herself.
He wondered how long it would take to get the glass master. Even if he did agree to send some of his men, Talen would probably end up waiting here for an hour or two. An hour or two that could land them in more danger.
He heard footsteps and turned around, only to come face-to-face with Elan. The rose stem in her hand was about three feet long and bent over to the ground. She held it out to him, beaming with delight.
Elan had a yellow ribbon tied in her hair. It did not do anything for her. In fact, it looked as if it had somehow snagged there.
“Muffin,” she said.
“Talen,” he said. “You must call me Talen.”
“Muffin,” she said and smiled her huge smile. She was missing a few teeth. And while he could see no long hairs growing from the large mole on her cheek, he could see a distinct shadow of a mustache.
Talen shook his head. She’d called him Muffin Bunny ever since she’d caught him that one time.
Then she straightened and said something.
Talen couldn’t understand her. She spoke like she had a severe sore throat. “What?”
“I had a man call. Da made a good bargain.”
At least that’s what he thought she said. A man called for Elan?
“Really?”
“I a strong worker,” she said. “I better than a watchdog with babies. I not some cheap servant.”
“I’m sure,” said Talen.
“He paid gold.”
Who would pay gold for Elan? It didn’t make sense. She was not bright, but maybe she was indeed a hard worker. Life had many simple tasks. Maybe the best deal the glass master could get was to sell her as a servant. He wondered: would the purchaser treat her kindly?
“I hope it goes well for you,” said Talen.
“Muffin Bunny,” she said. “You wet.”
Then Atra called Elan.
“He here!” Elan shouted back.
Talen turned and saw Atra walk down a path that led from the back door of the house. She was wearing a sky blue, sleeveless surcoat. The armholes were huge and showed her bright red tunic underneath. The effect with her black hair was stunning.
Talen’s heart jumped. He took a breath. His hair was sopping wet, so he released the thong that held his long hair together, smoothed back as much water as he could, and quickly retied it.
By the time he finished, Atra stood next to Elan.
She looked at Talen with a sad smile then said, “Elan, you’re not done inside yet.”
“I found him,” said Elan. “I found him, Atty.”
“Elan,” said Atra a bit more forcefully.
Elan sniggered then walked back to the house. Before she went inside, she shouted out, “Atra told me a secret!”
Atra only rolled her eyes.
Elan was a half-wit, but she had clearly enough wit to tease her sister. Talen smiled. There was more to Elan than he had suspected.
Atra waved at Nettle.
“A secret?” asked Talen.
Atra shrugged. “Don’t listen to her.
“How’s the captain’s son?” she called out with some tease and walked toward Nettle.
“Loafing,” he said.
Atra wore working clothes. The sky blue of the surcoat was from woad, not the expensive mollusk blue. And the red was not the scarlet of the grain, but something else. Beautiful but practical.
Talen looked at Atra’s smooth cheeks and nose. He looked for a pimple, and saw none. How was such skin possible?
His father had once told Ke how to look at a beautiful woman and still keep your wits straight. “Look her right between the eyes.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Ke had said. “I’ll be staring at her cross-eyed. That’s sure to impress her.”
“No, you won’t,” said Da. “Look at me. You can’t tell I’m looking at your nose, can you?”
“Cross-eyed,” said Ke.
“I am not.”
“Are.”
“Am not.”
They had argued until Da finally chased Ke out into the pasture.
“Atra,” Talen said.
She stopped and glanced back at him.
Nothing bespoke confidence more than the eyes. Talen wasn’t going to appear to be the shy little boy Nettle talked about, so Talen looked her right in the eye.
He promptly forgot what he was going to say. All that came into his mind was Nettle’s line about breeding. The silence stretched on a bit too long.
“The sun burns brightly,” he finally said. “And so does your face.”
He had known it was stupid before he’d said it, but couldn’t help himself.
She looked at him quizzically, then came that sad smile again.
“Yes, very hot,” Talen said.
Nettle laughed then tried to cover it with a cough.
“You two dare to travel alone?” she asked.
“Yes,” Talen said. “Actually, my Da was summoned to the Council. We’re on our way back.”
Now was when he could use one of River’s helpful questions.
“We heard about the creature coming for that woman,” said Atra. “To think she’s loose again. My da hopes the Skir Master mounts a hunt the likes of which has never been seen. When he does, Da will volunteer to fetch the crows that will pick her head to a nub.”
“Oh?” said Talen.
“Yes, he’s been quite affected by this whole thing. You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you?”