The Demon Cycle Series Books 1 and 2: The Painted Man, The Desert Spear. Peter V. Brett
mother’s daughter after all.’
‘What’s all this?’ came Bruna’s hoarse rasp before Leesha could reply.
Stefny turned, filled with haughty pride, and looked down at the old Herb Gatherer. ‘This girl is a whore, and I won’t have her in the Creator’s House.’
‘You won’t have?’ Bruna asked. ‘Are you the Creator now?’
‘Do not blaspheme in this place, old woman,’ Stefny said. ‘His words are written for all to see.’ She held up the leather-bound copy of the Canon she carried everywhere. ‘Fornicators and adulterers keep the Plague upon us, and that sums this slut and her mother well.’
‘And where is your proof of her crime?’ Bruna asked.
Stefny smiled. ‘Gared has boasted their sin to any who would listen,’ she said.
Bruna growled, and lashed out suddenly, striking Stefny on the head with her staff and knocking her to the ground. ‘You would condemn a girl with no more proof than a boy’s boast?’ she shrieked. ‘Boys’ bragging isn’t worth the breath that carries it, and you know it well!’
‘Everyone knows her mother is the town whore,’ Stefny sneered. A trickle of blood ran down her temple. ‘Why should the pup be different from the bitch?’
Bruna thrust her staff into Stefny’s shoulder, making her cry out in pain.
‘Hey there!’ Smitt called, rushing over. ‘Enough of that!’
Tender Michel was hot on his heels. ‘This is a Holy House, not some Angierian tavern …’
‘Women’s business is what this is, and you’ll stay out of it, if you know what’s good for you!’ Bruna snapped, taking the wind from their sails. She looked back to Stefny. ‘Tell them, or shall I lay bare your sin as well?’ she hissed.
‘I have no sin, hag!’ Stefny said.
‘I’ve delivered every child in this village,’ Bruna replied, too quietly for the men to hear, ‘and despite the rumours, I see quite well when things are as close as a babe in my hands.’
Stefny blanched, and turned to her husband and the Tender. ‘Stay out of this!’ she called.
‘The Core I will!’ Smitt cried. He grabbed Bruna’s staff and pulled it off his wife. ‘See here, woman,’ he told Bruna. ‘Herb Gatherer or no, you can’t just go around hitting whomever you please!’
‘Oh, but your wife can go around condemning whomever she pleases?’ Bruna snapped. She yanked her staff from his hands and clonked him on the head with it.
Smitt staggered back, rubbing his head. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I tried being nice.’
Usually, Smitt said that just before rolling up his sleeves and hurling someone bodily from his tavern. He wasn’t a tall man, but his squat frame was powerful, and he’d had plenty of experience in dealing with drunken cutters over the years.
Bruna was no thick-muscled cutter, but she didn’t appear the least bit intimidated. She stood her ground as Smitt stormed towards her.
‘Fine!’ she cried. ‘Throw me out! Mix the herbs yourself! You and Stefny heal the ones that vomit blood and catch demon fever! Deliver your own babies while you’re at it! Brew your own cures! Make your own flamesticks! What do you need to put up with the hag for?’
‘What, indeed?’ Darsy asked. Everyone stared at her as she strode up to Smitt.
‘I can mix herbs and deliver babies as well as she can,’ Darsy said.
‘Hah!’ Bruna said. Even Smitt looked at her doubtfully.
Darsy ignored her. ‘I say it’s time for a change,’ she said. ‘I may not have a hundred years of experience like Bruna, but I won’t go around bullying everyone, either.’
Smitt scratched his chin, and glanced over to Bruna, who cackled.
‘Go on,’ she dared. ‘I could use the rest. But don’t come begging to my hut when the sow stitches what she should have cut, and cuts what she should have stitched.’
‘Perhaps Darsy deserves a chance,’ Smitt said.
‘Settled, then!’ Bruna said, thumping her staff on the floor. ‘Be sure to tell the rest of the town who to go to for their cures. I’ll thank you for the peace at my hut!’
She turned to Leesha. ‘Come, girl, help an old crone walk home.’ She took Leesha’s arm, and the two of them turned for the door.
As they passed Stefny, though, Bruna stopped, pointing her staff at her and whispering for only the three women to hear. ‘You say one more word against this girl, or suffer others to, and the whole town will know your shame.’
Stefny’s look of terror stayed with Leesha the whole way back to Bruna’s hut.
Once they were inside, Bruna whirled on her.
‘Well, girl? Is it true?’ she asked.
‘No!’ Leesha cried. ‘I mean, we almost … but I told him to stop and he did!’
It sounded lame and implausible, and she knew it. Terror gripped her. Bruna was the only one who stood up for her. She thought she would die if the old woman thought her a liar, too.
‘You … you can check me, if you want,’ she said, her cheeks colouring. She looked at the floor, and squinted back tears.
Bruna grunted, and shook her head. ‘I believe you, girl.’
‘Why?’ Leesha asked, almost pleading. ‘Why would Gared lie like that?’
‘Because boys get praise for the same things that get girls run out of town,’ Bruna said. ‘Because men are ruled by what others think of their dangling worms. Because he’s a petty, hurtful little wood-brained shit with no concept of what he had.’
Leesha started to cry again. She felt like she’d been crying forever. Surely a body could not hold so many tears.
Bruna opened her arms, and Leesha fell into them. ‘There, there, girl,’ she said. ‘Get it all out, and then we’ll figure out what to do.’
There was silence in Bruna’s hut while Leesha made tea. It was still early in the day, but she felt utterly drained. How could she hope to live the rest of her life in Cutter’s Hollow?
Fort Rizon is only a week away, she thought. Thousands of people. No one would hear of Gared’s lies there. I could find Klarissa and …
And what? She knew it was just a fantasy. Even if she could find a Messenger to take her, the thought of a week and more on the open road made her blood run cold, and the Rizonans were farmers, with little use for letters or papermaking. She could find a new husband perhaps, but the thought of tying her fate to another man gave little comfort.
She brought Bruna her tea, hoping the old woman had an answer, but the Herb Gatherer said nothing, sipping quietly as Leesha knelt beside her chair.
‘What am I going to do?’ she asked. ‘I can’t hide here forever.’
‘You could,’ Bruna said. ‘Whatever Darsy boasts, she hasn’t retained a fraction of what I’ve taught her, and I haven’t taught her a fraction of what I know. The folk’ll be back soon enough, begging my help. Stay, and a year from now the people of Cutter’s Hollow won’t know how they ever got along without you.’
‘My mother will never allow that,’ Leesha said. ‘She’s still set on me marrying Gared.’
Bruna nodded. ‘She would be. She’s never forgiven herself for not bearing Steave’s sons. She’s