Call of the Herald (5 page)

Then they were gone, leaving Catrin to
consider their words. Her father turned to her, and the look on his
face softened. She stood silent, tears streaming down her cheeks,
unchecked, and her lip quivered as she struggled to maintain her
composure.

"Ah, Cat. I wish none of this were happening.
You've certainly done nothing to deserve what those sons of jackals
just said. Don't take their words into your heart, dear one. They
are just scared, confused, and looking for someone to blame. I'll
take care of them; don't you worry. Come along now. We've horses to
tend, and I need to make a trip to the cold caves this afternoon,"
he said as he guided her into the barn.

Catrin's father had inherited the cold caves
from his father, Marix. A popular barroom tale said her grandfather
had won the caves in a wager with Headmaster Edem. They said Edem
had been drinking with Marix at the Watering Hole after the Summer
Games. Edem's son had won the cross-country horse race, and he
celebrated with Marix, who had trained the horse, and they both got
too far into their drink. Edem bet Marix he could not get the
innkeeper, Miss Olsa, to show them her wares. Miss Olsa was an
older woman at the time, though not unattractive, and she had a
reputation for being a shrewd businesswoman.

Marix called her to his table and whispered
into her ear for a long time. When he pulled his cupped hand away,
Miss Olsa turned to the drunken headmaster, pulled up her blouse,
and boldly revealed herself. Then she ran into the kitchen,
giggling like a young girl. No one knew what Marix said, but the
locals swore no one ever duplicated the feat, which made her
grandfather a bit of a town hero. Catrin suspected he said
something regarding the free cold cave storage still enjoyed by
Olsa's daughter, Miss Mariss, long after Olsa's passing.

Benjin had followed the men off the property
to make sure they caused no more trouble, and he returned just as
Catrin entered the barn.

"Don't let those fools bother you, li'l miss.
They haven't got the sense the gods gave 'em," he said, hefting his
pitchfork in mock combat. On his way back to the stall he'd been
cleaning, he stopped and patted Catrin on the shoulder with his
over-large, calloused hand. His simple act of kindness shattered
Catrin's fragile composure, and with each step, more tears flowed
down her cheeks. Sobs wracked her, and she stood before her father,
trembling, her shoulders hunched forward. She could not bring
herself to look him in the eye, and she stared at the ground
instead.

Her father never let the tribulations of the
day disturb his routine, which gave Catrin comfort. He brought
Charger, his roan mare, from her stall and put her on cross-ties.
He ran a currycomb over her muddy coat with one hand and smoothed
the freshly brushed coat with his other. Charger was accustomed to
his ministrations and promptly fell asleep, letting the cross-ties
hold up her head.

"What happened in the woods yesterday?" her
father asked without looking up from his task.

"Peten was angry at Chase and Osbourne for
playing a trick on him, and the townies attacked Osbourne on his
way home. I tried to protect him, and they attacked me. I thought I
was going to die, but right before Peten hit me, the world
exploded. It's hard to explain; it was so strange and so very
horrible," she said, and she tried to continue, but her sobs would
not be suppressed.

She hugged herself in an effort to maintain
control while her father deftly unhooked the cross-ties and
returned Charger to her stall. After closing the stall gate, he
went to Catrin and awkwardly put his arms around her. It was a rare
gesture, which neither of them was truly comfortable with, but it
meant a lot to her nonetheless.

"You certainly have your mother's knack for
turning the world on its side, my little Cat. It'd be easier if she
were here; I'm sure she would know what to do, but we'll get
through this together, you and I. Don't you worry yourself sick.
It's not so bad as it seems," he said with a forced laugh as he
tousled her hair. "Now you run along and take the rest of the day
for yourself. You've more than earned it with all of the hard work
and long days you put in this winter," he continued. Catrin tried
to argue, but he insisted. "Benjin and I can handle things around
here."

"Off you go now, li'l miss. Maybe you could
catch us some nice bass for dinner, eh?" Benjin said with a wink,
and her father shot him a good-natured scowl.

"I give my daughter the day off, and you want
her to catch your dinner?" Wendel said, shaking his head.

Laughter released some of Catrin's anxiety,
and she left to fetch the laundry she had abandoned by the river.
After she finished the washing, she took it to the cottage to hang
it up to dry. When she was done, she took a piece of waxed cheese,
some dried fruit, and a few strips of smoked beef for her
breakfast. On her way back out of the cottage, she grabbed her bow,
two fishing arrows, and her fishing pole. There was more than one
way to catch a fish, and she was determined to bring back
dinner.

Following the path back down to the
riverbank, she turned north onto the trail that ran alongside the
river, feeling as if every step took her farther from society and
away from the source of her fears. She climbed past the shoals and
falls, where the path was often steep and rocky. Along the way, she
turned over rocks and collected the bloodworms that had been hiding
in the darkness. By the time she reached the lake at the top of the
falls, she had an ample supply of bait. Along the shores the water
was shallow and slow, and the fishing was generally quite good.
When she reached one of her favorite places, she laid out her
gear.

Dark red blood oozed over her delicate
fingers as she slid a bloodworm onto her hook, and she wiped it on
her jacket, adding yet another stain. Her fishing line was far too
coarse for her liking, but good fishing wire was expensive; she
would have to make do with what she had. After checking the knot
that held her lightwood bobber in place, she cast her line near a
downed tree, which was partially submerged in the dark water,
forming a perfect hiding place for the fish.

A towering elm gave her shade, and its
moss-covered trunk provided a comfortable seat. She leaned against
the tree and waited for the fish to bite. The stillness of the lake
stood out in stark contrast to the maelstrom of thoughts that
cluttered her mind. She attempted to review the events of the
previous day, but she could not focus; when she tried to
concentrate on one thought, another would demand her attention then
another and another. Frustrated, she tried to put it all from her
mind.

Her pole jerked in her hands, and the
lightwood bobber jumped back to the surface. With a hurried yank,
she set the hook and pulled the fish in, relieved it had not gotten
away with her bait. The large-mouth bass put up a good fight, and
when it emerged from the water, she was pleased to see it was
longer than her forearm--not enough to feed three but a good
start.

After baiting her hook again, she cast it
near where she'd caught the first fish, but she got no more bites
for the rest of the afternoon. The dark shadows of large fish moved
below the surface, taunting her, and as the sun began to sink, she
decided to try her luck with the bow. Normally, fishing arrows were
used only when the carp were spawning since they made easy targets
as they congregated in the shallows. Bass would be much harder to
hit, but she had been practicing her archery skills, and she hoped
the effort would pay off.

After securing her long string to the fishing
arrow, she tied the other end off on an elm branch. Not wanting to
lose her arrow, she double-checked her knots. Confident they were
secure, she located a likely target and took aim. Ripples in the
lake surface distorted her depth perception, and her first few
shots missed their marks. Determined, she did her best to
compensate for the distortion, and her next shot was true, catching
another bass in the tail and pinning it to the bottom.

"Nice shot," Chase shouted from behind her,
and she nearly leaped from her skin.

"Don't you know it's not nice to sneak up on
people?" she said, truly glad to see him. He just grinned in
response. She gave a tug on her string, but her arrow was firmly
wedged, and she removed her boots, preparing to go in after it.

"Let me get that for you," Chase offered.

"I can get it; I'm not crippled," she
retorted angrily and instantly regretted it. She had no reason to
be angry with Chase, but she felt helpless--a feeling she
despised--and she needed to lash out at someone. Chase took it in
stride, though, and simply sat on the shore while she waded out to
the flailing fish. She freed the arrow quickly and grabbed the fish
by the tail; it was slightly smaller than the first, but it would
be enough.

The bruises on her hip and shoulder ached as
she climbed from the water, her muscles stiff from the time spent
sitting beneath the tree. Chase grabbed the other fish and Catrin's
bow while she retrieved her pole and her other fishing arrow. She
was grateful for his help; without it, she would have had a
difficult time carrying it all home. Chase was quiet for the first
part of their walk, and Catrin allowed the silence to hang between
them.

"I visited the infirmary this morning," he
said after a while, and when Catrin made no reply, he continued.
"Osbourne is doing much better and should recover quickly. He has a
broken nose, a couple of badly bruised ribs, and a score of bumps
and bruises, but he was awake this morning. He told everyone that
you saved his life." Catrin grunted but said nothing.

"Carter has a broken leg, but otherwise he's
fine. Chad has a head wound and can't remember much of anything;
heck, he didn't even know who I was. The Masters said his memory
should return in a few days, but his mother is hysterical. She just
keeps shouting that her baby has been mortally wounded. Peten's
hurt bad. The Masters won't say if he will live or die, but he did
wake up for a while this morning. I think he'll recover myself; he
didn't look nearly as bad as most were making him out to be." He
stopped, and Catrin turned to look him in the eye. Her lip
quivered, but otherwise she maintained her composure.

"I didn't do anything, Chase. I don't know
what happened," she said, and Chase remained silent. "The last
thing I remember was Peten bearing down on us and swinging his
staff at my head. I saw my reflection in his staff, Chase. It was
coming right at my face. How could I not have a mark on my head?"
she asked, not anticipating a response. "At the very moment I
expected his staff to crush my skull, there was a loud bang--like
thunder but without the lightning. Just before I passed out, it
looked like the world was flying away from me, and when I woke, it
was like being in a nightmare."

"I believe you, Cat. Besides, even if it was
something you did, you were just saving Osbourne from those boiling
townies," he said.

She didn't like the insinuation that it could
have been something she did, but she couldn't blame him. What
evidence was there to prove otherwise? She began to doubt herself,
but for the moment, she clung to what she knew to be true.

"They were going to kill poor Osbourne; I
just know it. They probably would've gotten away with it too. I'm
sure they would have just made up some story about him trying to
rob them or some other rubbish, and that is just the kind of thing
the Masters would believe of us farm folk," she said.

"They'll believe worse than that. The main
reason I came was to warn you: rumors are spreading. Some say you
are a witch or monster, and others have even claimed you are a
Sleepless One. There have been some who have spoken up for you, but
several suffered beatings as a result. I don't think it's safe for
you to go into town right now; too many people have lost their
senses, and they are starting to believe some of the crazy things
people are making up," he said sadly.

Catrin sniffed and wiped her eyes but made no
other sound.

"I'm truly sorry, Cat. I feel like this is my
fault; if I hadn't brought that snake in, none of this would've
happened. I'll do anything I can to help you, and I'll always stand
up for you--"

"No," Catrin interrupted. "I don't want you
getting hurt because of me. Keep your thoughts private. You'll be
more help to me if you just listen and let me know what people are
saying. Perhaps you could bring me my lessons," she said, but her
voice cracked, and she could not get the rest out.

"Don't worry. I'll bring your lessons to you,
and I won't do anything stupid, but I'm not going to let them get
away with telling lies about you either."

"Thank you," was all she could manage to say
without sobbing, and they walked back to the farm in silence.

As they approached, her father and Benjin
waved, and they held up the bass in silent greeting. Benjin let out
a whoop of glee on seeing the fish, and her father just shook his
head. Benjin met them halfway.

"Nice catch ya got there, li'l miss. Here,
let me take those. I'll get started on the cleaning," he said with
a smile. Catrin started to object, but Benjin grabbed the fish and
looked quite happy carrying them off to be cleaned and
filleted.

"You go get washed up for dinner!" he shouted
over his shoulder, and Catrin was happy to oblige; she was wet,
dirty, and in need of a good scrubbing. After she and Chase washed
up, they joined Benjin and her father in the cottage and were
greeted by the smell of vegetable stew.

"I knew you wouldn't come home empty handed,
li'l miss. I'll just boil the fish and add it to the stew; we'll
eat like kings," Benjin said as he stoked the fire.

* * *