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Authors: Kerry Schafer
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somebody of importance. He attempted an awkward bow.
“Can you make him presentable?” Kraal asked.
Jared bit back a retort as the woman tilted her head and surveyed him. He knew he must look a mess, and it would be best for him to not say anything to aggravate his Giant rescuer.
“That depends on where you plan to take him,” the old woman said at last. “I don’t like the looks of him, Kraal. Treachery written all over. You should drown him.”
“I’m a healer, Traveler.” The syllables of her name came out harsh and guttural in his hard-inflected speech.
She snorted. “Don’t try that line on me. I’ve seen what you healers do if a child is born distorted or twisted. Some things can’t be healed.”
“He is under my protection. I have healed his leg. And now he must be presented to Her Excellence. I ask that you do this thing for me.”
“I am old and wiser than you might think. You should listen.”
The Giant took her frail old hand in his and pressed the back of it to his forehead. “I do listen, but your words come late. There are great things afoot, and we will have a use for this one, I think.”
“What is this, then?” The old woman took his enormous hand in both of hers and turned it, displaying a bloody gash in the wrist. Her eyes looked up to his.
Kraal shrugged. “They didn’t like the looks of him at the gate, either.”
“Oh, Kraal. And you’ve made yourself bond for one such as this?”
“It was needful.” With that, the Giant rose to his full height and clamped a hand around Jared’s shoulder. It might have been meant as a friendly gesture, but it nearly crushed the bone, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out or flinching.
“You do as she says, little man. I will be back for you when the sun passes Third Hill.”
“I guess you’d better come in,” the old woman said, after Kraal turned a corner and disappeared from sight.
He entered a small, low-ceilinged kitchen furnished with a wooden table and two chairs. Something simmered over a wood stove in a large black pot that made him think, without wanting to— cauldron, witch . A narrow, dark hallway led out of the kitchen and ended in a closed door. It had several doors on either side as well, and he revised his original estimation of the size of the dwelling.
The old woman gave him another of those sharp, knowing looks, as though she could read his mind and disapproved. Her nose wrinkled, and she sniffed at him tentatively. “Well, at least you’ve been bathed, but you’ll still need a shave and a haircut. And clothes. What good is a bath if you’re putting dirty rags back on after? And where does he think I’m to come by clothes for you at a moment’s notice? We haven’t many human guests.”
Jared clenched his jaw tightly over his anger. He was used to deference and respect, or at least the veneer of it. Even the criminal element he represented called him “sir,” knowing that a good bit of their future depended on his goodwill. “Sorry to trouble you,” he said.
She laughed. “No, you’re not. We’ll get on better if you don’t try to lie to me.”
“All right, then. I’m not sorry. It’s not my fault that Kraal brought me to you. I haven’t asked you to do a single thing, and you talk about me like I’m some noxious poison you’ve been charged with the disposal of.”
“Accurate except for the disposal part, perhaps.”
She walked down the hallway, disappearing through a door on the right. A few moments later, she reappeared, pushing a wheeled wooden cart. On it were a basin, a straightedge razor, some soap, and a clean white towel. Jared took one look and retreated toward the door. Nobody who looked at him like that was getting a straightedge anywhere near him.
“Sit down. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“How do I know that?”
“You are under Kraal’s protection. If you are harmed, Kraal will be harmed, and he is important to me. For similar reasons, your
“Can you make him presentable?” Kraal asked.
Jared bit back a retort as the woman tilted her head and surveyed him. He knew he must look a mess, and it would be best for him to not say anything to aggravate his Giant rescuer.
“That depends on where you plan to take him,” the old woman said at last. “I don’t like the looks of him, Kraal. Treachery written all over. You should drown him.”
“I’m a healer, Traveler.” The syllables of her name came out harsh and guttural in his hard-inflected speech.
She snorted. “Don’t try that line on me. I’ve seen what you healers do if a child is born distorted or twisted. Some things can’t be healed.”
“He is under my protection. I have healed his leg. And now he must be presented to Her Excellence. I ask that you do this thing for me.”
“I am old and wiser than you might think. You should listen.”
The Giant took her frail old hand in his and pressed the back of it to his forehead. “I do listen, but your words come late. There are great things afoot, and we will have a use for this one, I think.”
“What is this, then?” The old woman took his enormous hand in both of hers and turned it, displaying a bloody gash in the wrist. Her eyes looked up to his.
Kraal shrugged. “They didn’t like the looks of him at the gate, either.”
“Oh, Kraal. And you’ve made yourself bond for one such as this?”
“It was needful.” With that, the Giant rose to his full height and clamped a hand around Jared’s shoulder. It might have been meant as a friendly gesture, but it nearly crushed the bone, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out or flinching.
“You do as she says, little man. I will be back for you when the sun passes Third Hill.”
“I guess you’d better come in,” the old woman said, after Kraal turned a corner and disappeared from sight.
He entered a small, low-ceilinged kitchen furnished with a wooden table and two chairs. Something simmered over a wood stove in a large black pot that made him think, without wanting to— cauldron, witch . A narrow, dark hallway led out of the kitchen and ended in a closed door. It had several doors on either side as well, and he revised his original estimation of the size of the dwelling.
The old woman gave him another of those sharp, knowing looks, as though she could read his mind and disapproved. Her nose wrinkled, and she sniffed at him tentatively. “Well, at least you’ve been bathed, but you’ll still need a shave and a haircut. And clothes. What good is a bath if you’re putting dirty rags back on after? And where does he think I’m to come by clothes for you at a moment’s notice? We haven’t many human guests.”
Jared clenched his jaw tightly over his anger. He was used to deference and respect, or at least the veneer of it. Even the criminal element he represented called him “sir,” knowing that a good bit of their future depended on his goodwill. “Sorry to trouble you,” he said.
She laughed. “No, you’re not. We’ll get on better if you don’t try to lie to me.”
“All right, then. I’m not sorry. It’s not my fault that Kraal brought me to you. I haven’t asked you to do a single thing, and you talk about me like I’m some noxious poison you’ve been charged with the disposal of.”
“Accurate except for the disposal part, perhaps.”
She walked down the hallway, disappearing through a door on the right. A few moments later, she reappeared, pushing a wheeled wooden cart. On it were a basin, a straightedge razor, some soap, and a clean white towel. Jared took one look and retreated toward the door. Nobody who looked at him like that was getting a straightedge anywhere near him.
“Sit down. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“How do I know that?”
“You are under Kraal’s protection. If you are harmed, Kraal will be harmed, and he is important to me. For similar reasons, your
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