during the second tremor by
crashing into a barn, Mahrree thought they just might have enough
to see them through the night.
She looked back toward the spit roasting the
venison in her back garden and decided the spit should stay when
all of this was over. It was an interesting and practical addition.
They probably had enough to feed several hundred people, and that
was what was coming.
“And dear Creator,” she murmured quietly,
“look at them all—sitting together along the road and in gardens
talking, sharing their experiences, giving comfort—I do believe
this is the best Holy Day dinner we’ve ever had. You certainly seem
to work in mysterious ways sometimes.”
Mahrree’s thoughts were disturbed by a horse
approaching along the cobblestones. She looked up to see Shem’s
mount with the most remarkable set of riders. In front of Shem,
seated on the saddle, was her mother. Mahrree couldn’t remember the
last time—if ever—she’d seen her mother on a horse.
Hycymum Peto’s face was flushed and she
looked a bit winded. Shem nodded to Mahrree and redirected the
horse to the alley behind the houses to avoid the crowd of people.
Mahrree jogged to the back of her yard, weaving through villagers
who helpfully trampled her weeds. She arrived just in time to see
her mother turn bright red as Shem helped her off the horse.
“My, was that an experience!” Mrs. Peto said
breathlessly to her daughter and leaned on her for support.
“Thank you, Shem,” Mahrree beamed at him.
“Please, get something to eat before you head back.”
“I think I will. It smells a lot better here
than the rations we’re handing out in the village green,” he
grinned. “And by the way, the lieutenant colonel is still planning
to come home tonight, but he’s a bit delayed. It seems there are
some villagers at the amphitheater waiting for something to watch.
Supposed to have been an obstacle course with bulls as motivation,
and people are bored.”
Mahrree blinked. “You can’t be serious.”
“Unfortunately, I am. Their houses weren’t
badly damaged, so they picked their ways through the smoldering
remains of people’s businesses and shops as if the rubbish movers
were just slow getting there today.”
“In the middle of Edge’s biggest crisis?”
Mahrree exclaimed. “They’re waiting for a show? If anyone has any
sense, those bulls are roasting in someone’s back garden right
now!”
Shem shrugged in disappointed agreement.
“That was what Perrin was hoping to accomplish. Last I heard, he
was having some soldiers escort a group of drunken young men to
where the old mill used to be until it crumbled. There were a few
more groups of people heading to the arena looking for something
interesting to watch, and Grandpy told me Perrin was waiting for
them with that look in his eye. You know the one where no one
leaves feeling very good about themselves?”
Mahrree smiled sadly in approval. “Well, when
he comes, he comes. Plenty around here to keep us entertained.”
Shem nodded and resumed a more formal stance.
“Well then, good evening to you. And Mrs. Peto,” he said to the
older woman who had been staring steadily at him for the past five
minutes, “I hope the ride wasn’t too rough.” He tipped his cap at
her and she smiled vaguely.
As Shem strode off to get some dinner,
Hycymum sat down primly on the log bench near the make-shift spit.
Her shoulder-length curls were disheveled, her second-best apron
was smudged with mud, and she wore her very best cloak which would
take hours of soaking to get clean again. But amazingly, she didn’t
seem to notice.
“Honestly, Mahrree, I just don’t ever
remember such an experience! I’ll be thinking about this for weeks!
Maybe even longer.” She fanned herself with her hand despite the
cooling temperatures.
“I can imagine!” Mahrree said, putting her
arm around her mother and hugging her. “I’ve been worried about
you, wondering what you were going through all
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