Read Online The Twisting by Laurel Wanrow - Free Book Online Page A

the surrounding farms. The fields south are so-so. Chapel Hollow buffers us to the east, and the mountains to the west, but on the northern farms he can tell the sides east toward Gapton are ravaged the worst. That must be the direction the gobblers are coming from. They’re plotting how we might stop them along that side.”
    “A group of us growers will help patrol the edges to learn where they cross most often,” Henry said.
    “It’ll be difficult, even with the extra help.” Mary Clare nodded to a sandy-haired fellow down the table, who smiled in return. “My friend Leander Lightstep came. He and the few other ’cambires from town will add in with our nocturnal guards.”
    Annmar had seen him before—oh, Leander was the young livery driver who had brought her up to Wellspring her first day here. At least he was older than Henry, poor fellow. “Are you sure you’re up to doing this?” she asked him.
    Henry nodded in a stiff way, appearing determined but still looking like the scared boy he was. “I don’t want to return to the orphanage. Another fellow and I are offering our wages back to Mistress Gere to help. We want to stay on, even if the harvest is ruined.”
    Annmar peeked at Mary Clare. Her freckled forehead and nose were wrinkled, her lips twisted unhappily. This was bad.
    With knit brows, Henry turned back and forth between them. “Honest”—he placed his hand over his heart—“by the Creator’s Path, I’ll do whatever I can to stop the gobblers.”
    He sounded so adamant. Annmar patted his arm. “Of course I believe you will.”
    “Any chance you’ll be around tonight?” Henry stared, his brows still bunched together.
    Surely they didn’t expect her to shoot one of these stunners. “Me?”
    “In case something happens. On our patrols. You know, to back up Miss Miriam. It’d be real nice if you could do your special healing again.”
    He’d lowered his voice, but Annmar glanced around. Mary Clare had her fork frozen halfway to her mouth, and worse, Miriam was staring from across the table.
    She leaned to Henry and whispered, “I’ll see what I can do. Good luck tonight.”
    “Thanks, miss. Be seeing you.”
    The blond boy scurried off. Annmar spooned up potatoes, but the thought of eating wasn’t appealing.
    Mary Clare whispered, “You cannot be walking up and down the stairs tonight. Miriam bit my head off about bringing you down.”
    “The stairs were a trial.”
    Miriam lowered into Henry’s vacant seat. “Consider spending tonight in the sickroom.”
    Annmar stared at her. “And if the sickroom is as busy as the last time I was there?”
    “With this many inexperienced people roaming the dark fields I expect more accidents. You’ll be handy to help,” Miriam said, though she shook her head. “My earlier warning still holds: You must avoid close artwork. Your body is still healing, so I’ll only call upon you if a severe injury presents itself and you can help without eyestrain. Station yourself on one of the cots as soon as possible, and I will have no problem waking you.” She smiled. “I’m not even asking how. Or”—she fixed her gaze on Mary Clare, who had been unusually quiet—“I will be the one having my head bit off. By Mistress Gere.”
    They all laughed, but Mary Clare sobered first and tapped Annmar’s arm. “Remember when I told you it’s best to ask a person’s permission before, er, healing them?”
    Before working her Knack on them, she meant. Annmar nodded and turned to Miriam. “My skills might be a bit different than yours. How do I know someone would welcome my help?”
    “If you work for Constance, she takes care of your medical needs. We presume every worker agrees to be helped if they appear in my sickroom. However, if it makes you more comfortable, all you need to do is ask something along the lines of, ‘Would you like me to help you?’”
    This easily banished Annmar’s concerns. Mary Clare asked what she could fetch for