The Great Bazaar And Other Stories Part 4

He slowed down when the house was in sight, despite the cries of his parents, despite the terror in their voices. This was the time of day he felt most alive. He watched the sun dip in the sky, eclipsed by the turning of the world beneath him. Shadows began to lengthen. He waited until the last minute, and then ran to his house as fast as he could, the exhilarating tingle of fear sweeping over him, making his heart pound and his hands shake. Air tasted better in those few seconds, his body alive with sensation. No sight was more beautiful than the reds and oranges of dusk, no sound more exciting than his parents' warnings. He tumbled over the threshold, careful not to disturb the wards, and turned to watch the corelings rise.

As the last warm rays faded from the horizon, and the heat leached from the ground into the air, the flame demons rose up from the Core to dance.

He was soon yanked inside and the heavy door shut, its bar thrown (as if it could stop a coreling!). Arlen's father would then check the wards on the sills and threshold again, making sure they had not been scuffed or scratched. He told Arlen that a triple-check was all that was needed, but he could never help checking a fourth time.

He was always scolded. Sometimes with his father's belt. But Arlen's parents knew deep down that no punishment could ever make him give up his wandering.

After punishment came supper, and then, while his mother knit and his father carved wardposts, Arlen could sit by the window and watch the corelings dance. They were so graceful, even beautiful. Sometimes, he caught a glimpse of a wind demon, its shadowy form swooping on leathern wings, illuminated by the blazing eyes and mouths of its fiery cousins.

Less beautiful and thankfully less common were the rock demons, their hulking, sinewy forms encased in a carapace that could break the hardest spear tip. No dancers these, they stalked the yard slowly, flas.h.i.+ng their rows of razor teeth as they searched for prey.

Arlen had never seen a water demon, but he had heard Jongleurs' stories. They could tear through the hull of a boat, dragging unfortunate fishermen underwater. Arlen s.h.i.+vered as he imagined the depths of the town lake swirling with dark, terrible forms. The idea terrified him, yet he longed to go out and try to glimpse one.

On some nights, the demons attacked the wards. They flung themselves at the doors and windows, only to be sent hurtling back by the flare of magic. Arlen's parents seldom flinched, having witnessed this all their lives.

"Why do they keep attacking when they can't get through?" Arlen asked his father once.

"They're looking for flaws in the net," his father replied, joining him by the window. "Every warding has them. Every one. Corelings aren't smart enough to study the wards and reason out the weak spots, but they can attack them and look for holes that way. You'll never see a coreling attack the same spot twice in a night." He tapped his temple. "They remember. And they know that time weakens even the strongest wards."

The night would light up over and over as the corelings tested the wards, magic flaring like tiny lightning flashes to momentarily illuminate the features of the yard as the demons tried to crush the wellhouse, or reach the meat in the curing shed.

They attacked the barn as well, but the wards there were just as strong. Arlen could hear the livestock bleating in fear. The animals never got used to the demons. They knew, instinctively, what would happen if the corelings ever got through.

Arlen knew, too. When he was seven, he had watched helplessly as the demons tore apart one of their sheepdogs, spreading its guts all over the yard.

Corelings took great pleasure in killing.

It was said there had been a time when the demons were not so bold. A time when the greatest wards had not yet been forgotten; when the demons feared the power of mankind and stayed within the Core. But those days, if they ever truly existed, were long forgotten by the great-great-grandfathers of the oldest men alive. Now, those wards were nothing more than a Jongleur's tale.

As he watched the creatures that had stolen his world for another night, Arlen dreamed of bringing those wards back. He dreamed of traveling beyond Tibbet's Brook, and resolved that he would leave one day, even if it meant spending a night outside.

With the demons.

Brianne Beaten

INTRODUCTION.

THIS IS FAR and away my favorite cut scene, my poor deleted darling. It takes place in Chapter 13 of and away my favorite cut scene, my poor deleted darling. It takes place in Chapter 13 of The Warded Man The Warded Man ("There Must Be More"), and happens directly after the confrontation between Gared and Marick in the Cutter's Hollow marketplace. The purpose of the scene was to force Leesha to confront Brianne, who had been one of her best friends until the events of Leesha's first story arc destroyed their friends.h.i.+p. It was also meant to ill.u.s.trate how confident and powerful Leesha had become during her Herb Gathering tutelage under Bruna. ("There Must Be More"), and happens directly after the confrontation between Gared and Marick in the Cutter's Hollow marketplace. The purpose of the scene was to force Leesha to confront Brianne, who had been one of her best friends until the events of Leesha's first story arc destroyed their friends.h.i.+p. It was also meant to ill.u.s.trate how confident and powerful Leesha had become during her Herb Gathering tutelage under Bruna.

WHY IT WAS CUT.

I TAKE FULL responsibility for cutting this scene. No editor or agent or test reader suggested it. I needed to reduce the overall word count of the book, and much as I loved this scene, it was over 3,000 words, and lifted out so cleanly that no one would ever miss it but me. That Leesha had grown too big for Cutter's Hollow was already apparent, and nothing else happened that affected the rest of the story at all. responsibility for cutting this scene. No editor or agent or test reader suggested it. I needed to reduce the overall word count of the book, and much as I loved this scene, it was over 3,000 words, and lifted out so cleanly that no one would ever miss it but me. That Leesha had grown too big for Cutter's Hollow was already apparent, and nothing else happened that affected the rest of the story at all.

I don't regret the decision. The final draft of the book is lean and mean and every scene moves the story forward. This scene doesn't; it's just a tangent. Removing it also helped balance out the Leesha/Rojer air time, which I had intended to be equal, but which was (and still is) skewed in Leesha's favor.

Still, I love this little side-story, and am really happy I finally get to share it with people who might enjoy reading it.

SCENE.

"THERE'S NEED FOR your skills," Mairy said. your skills," Mairy said.

"You feel unwell?" Leesha asked, concerned. She laid the back of her hand against Mairy's forehead, but Mairy shook her head, pulling away. "No, it's not for me," she said.

"One of the children?" Leesha asked, her eyes quickly scanning each for a sign of ill health. "Or Benn?"

Mairy shook her head again. "It's Brianne," she said. "She's been having stomach pains. She tries to hide it, but I see her wincing. Something is wrong. We hoped you might take the request for aid better from me."

"Why me?" Leesha asked. "Darsy is her Herb Gatherer."

"You've said yourself that Darsy guesses at her cures more oft than not," Mairy said. "And she lost Dug and Merrem's child last winter."

"I never said that was Darsy's fault," Leesha pointed out.

"You didn't have to," Mairy said. "Half the town is whispering it whenever she pa.s.ses by. Brianne is just too proud to ask for your help."

"Even if she did," Leesha asked, "why should I give it?"

"Because she's sick and you're an Herb Gatherer," Mairy replied.

"She's spoken nothing but ill words on me for nearly seven years," Leesha said angrily. "And don't forget that she did her best to destroy my life." She turned away, but guilt ate at her. There were oaths Herb Gatherers took, to help all in need.

"She cried for you," Mairy said at her back. "We all did."

Leesha turned. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"That morning, when your mum came to town saying you ent come home before dark," Mairy said. "She had the whole town out looking for you or..." she looked away, "your body."

"We were sure you were dead," Mairy went on after a moment, when Leesha did not reply. "Brianne said it was her fault, and fell into tears. We tried to tell her it wan't like that, but she was inconsolable." She touched Leesha's shoulder, "She knew she hurt you, Leesha."

"I never heard a word of contrition," Leesha said. "In fact, she's said worse about me since. Don't think I haven't heard."

"She meant to apologize," Mairy said. "Saira, too."

"But you were the only one that actually did," Leesha said.

"Hurting with words is easy," Mairy replied, echoing Leesha's earlier statement, "it's healing with them what's hard. Don't forget it was you what hurt her first."

Leesha felt as if she had been slapped in the face. What if Brianne was really sick and needed her help? Would she deny her? Deny her child? Had Bruna ever denied anyone?

"You're right," she told Mairy. "Of course I'll come help her."

"There's one other thing," Mairy said.

Leesha looked up.

"She's pregnant."

MAIRY SENT HER little ones scurrying off home, and they headed for the small house the townsfolk had built when Brianne and Evan wed. little ones scurrying off home, and they headed for the small house the townsfolk had built when Brianne and Evan wed.

"How long has she known?" Leesha asked, walking so fast that Mairy had to scurry to keep pace. Fear for Brianne's child gripped her.

"Her stomach told her a few weeks ago," Mairy said. "She might be as far as two months, now. She only told Evin this week."

"Were there any complications with her first pregnancy?" Leesha asked.

"Apart from being forced to marry Evin?" Mairy asked. Leesha frowned at her.

"It's not funny, I know," Mairy said. "Callen's birth was easy. In fact, you might say it was the only easy thing about Callen."

"Because Evin didn't want him," Leesha said.

"That's putting it light," Mairy agreed. "Neither one was expecting the child. Brianne used to go to Bruna for pomm tea, but with you around... she said she couldn't bear the shame."

"She was one of the first to turn to Darsy," Leesha said.

"Only Darsy won't make the tea," Mairy said. "She says it's sinful, and told the Tender on the wives who'd been taking it. He gave a big sermon about our duty to procreate."

"I remember," Leesha said. Tender Michel had railed against Pomm tea, but he had been careful not to say an ill word towards Bruna, lest the town learn how personally he took his duty.

"Well, that explains why Darsy is so busy as a midwife," Leesha said. "Those that go to her are a lot more apt to need it."

"It's just as well," Mairy said. "There's few enough of us in Cutter's Hollow as is."

"Just as well, so long as she lets no more be born still," Leesha said.

"Brianne blames you, sometimes," Mairy blurted.

"Me?" Leesha asked. "What did I do?"

"Made her feel too shamed to get her pomm tea," Mairy said. "Made Evin have to marry her against his will. Made every day what's been bad since then."

"That isn't fair," Leesha said. "I was the one publicly humiliated because of her."

"Because of Gared," Mairy corrected.

"And Brianne got pregnant because of Evin, not me!" Leesha retorted.

Mairy nodded. "So maybe its time to stop taking it out on each other," she said.

Leesha was quiet a long while. "I will if she will," she conceded at last.

"One of you has to be first," Mairy said.

Leesha stopped short. "Brianne doesn't know I'm coming," she said. When Mairy made no reply, she grinned. "Aren't you quite the little manipulator these days?" she accused.

"I get it from being a mum," Mairy confided with a giggle.

MAIRY TOOK A deep breath and knocked on the door. There was noise from inside, but no one answered. Mairy knocked again. deep breath and knocked on the door. There was noise from inside, but no one answered. Mairy knocked again.

"Who's that?" Evin cried.

"Mairy!" Mairy shouted.

There was a some shouting inside. "Get it, yurself!" they heard Evin bark.

"Just come in!" Brianne called. "It ent barred!"

Mairy opened the door to reveal a squalid cabin. Two wolfhounds ran freely about the main room, and much of the furniture was gnawed upon. Evin sat with his muddy boots up on the supper table, whittling. The floor around him was covered in curls of wood. Brianne had her back to the door, chopping vegetables on the counter by the fire that served as her kitchen. Callen, six years old and tousle-haired, clung to her skirt with one hand. With the other, he rooted about one of his nostrils for some elusive prey.

"Sorry for the door, Mair," Brianne said without turning. "Creator forbid Evin fall behind at whittling useless sticks."

"Maybe a walk to the door once in a while would sweat off a few pounds," Evin muttered. "Whattaya want, anyway?" he asked, looking up and seeing Leesha enter.

"Well, well," he said, devouring Leesha with his eyes as he stood up suddenly, brus.h.i.+ng the wood shavings from his clothes, "welcome to our humble home."

Brianne turned and saw her husband leering. She saw Leesha, and her face darkened.

"What is SHE doing here?!" Brianne demanded angrily, coming over with the chopping knife still in her hand.

"I thought she might be able to help with your pain," Mairy said.

"I didn't ask for any help," Brianne snarled. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

"I can see you're not," Leesha said. "Your coloring is off, you're breathing's out of rhythm, and you grit your teeth when you walk."

"She said it's nothing," Evin said.

"Please," Mairy said. "Let her take a look. If not for you, think of the little one."

"The baby is fine," Evin said.

"Leave," Brianne said.