The Blight of Muirwood
Page 23
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Edmon rubbed his hands together. “I must be a fool, but I have always enjoyed ring dances like the maypole one they do here. It never took much coaxing to get me to try it. And with such lovely partners as all of you make, it would have to be a tempting display of desserts to draw me away.” He bowed his head dramatically to each of them, smiling like a blazing candle. “I hope you will all save a dance for me. You included, Pasqua.”
“Me? Dance on Whitsunday?” Pasqua chided, beaming at the handsome young man. “When pigs fly, lad. When pigs fly. But I will save you some sambocade for the kind words.”
His gallantry reminded Lia of what Astrid warned her of earlier. “I would like to see the look on Getman’s face when you ask Sowe,” Lia said softly after another spoonful.
Sowe’s eyebrows crinkled and she looked at Lia curiously.
“Who is Getman?” Edmon asked.
“He is the blacksmith helper,” Bryn said. “Strong as an ox, but he is rude and jealous. Everyone is afraid of him except for Lia and Sowe. Lia hates him…well, maybe that is too strong, but she cannot abide his company, and everyone knows he dotes on Sowe.”
“He does?” Edmon asked, appraising Sowe again. “And you consider him as well-mannered as a surgeon’s leech?”
Sowe grinned and they all laughed.
“He is that obnoxious then?” Edmon said. “Well, if dancing with you will spite him, I will gladly risk his enmity. Even if he is as strong as an ox. Probably reeks like one as well.”
Lia liked Edmon immensely. He had a boyish charm that was disarming. “It will definitely thwart his plans. You see, Astrid told me today that Getman promised he would thrash anyone who dances with Sowe except for him.”
Edmon glowered. “Did he now? Well, that is no surprise considering Sowe’s great beauty,” another bow to her, “But surely only a knave would deprive his fellows like this. Where can I find the great boor? I think Colvin and I will have to kill him. Or at least cut off an arm or a leg. Could he still work as a blacksmith with a stump, do you think?” He performed the impression of a man with a gimp and had everyone roaring with laughter. Except for Colvin, who constrained his expression to a smirk and said nothing. When Ellowyn noticed that he was not laughing, she stopped too.
“I for one, will not be intimidated,” Edmon declared, gazing at Sowe. “Let him bluster, but he will not deprive me of the opportunity of dancing with you on Whitsunday. Unless you would rather I not dance with you.” His eyes grew more serious, more focused, as if willing her to say the words.
A little smile came on Sowe’s mouth. “I would like that,” she said, then looked down at the bowl, her cheeks flushing.
“I have witnesses then to your consent. You will vouch for me, Ciana? Ellowyn? Lia? Bryn? What a selfish oaf, claiming you for his own.”
“Pasqua,” Marciana said. “Lia needs to eat something. Where was that plate you were saving for her?”
“I had forgotten, child. It is over by the oven. No, the other corner. Edmon, stop torturing the poor girl with flattery and fetch a sack of flour from the loft as I asked you when you arrived. Be quick lad, it is getting late and I must escort you back to the manor house soon.”
Marciana tugged on Lia’s arm and led her to the oven. “You must be starving but I do not want to waste a moment with you. There is your meal.” As they approached the oven, Lia saw the Leering near it and felt a prickle from the Medium. The eyes glowed red, giving off heat into the oven. She had not done it and glanced at Marciana.
“Not as impressive as what you can do,” she whispered, seeing Lia’s look.
Lia took the bread, looking over her shoulder at Sowe and then at Colvin who was talking softly to Ellowyn. “Colvin taught me so very much,” she answered, memories flooding her. “You are lucky to have him as a brother.”
“Instead of Edmon?” Marciana asked wryly. She gave Lia a knowing look. “Who is handsome and gallant, but…how can I say this tactfully…he is also very shallow. His moods flit from this to that so quickly. Colvin is steady. That is what I admire in him. Poor girl, he already has Sowe dazzled. Warn her when we are gone. He means well, but he craves attention. He is uncomfortable unless everyone is laughing at something he has said, or unless the pretty girls are blushing and dizzy with giddiness. He knows he is handsome, poor devil. Warn Sowe about him, Lia.”
“Warn her?” Lia said, grabbing some fruit from the plate. “He would never do anything dishonorable would he?”
“Me? Dance on Whitsunday?” Pasqua chided, beaming at the handsome young man. “When pigs fly, lad. When pigs fly. But I will save you some sambocade for the kind words.”
His gallantry reminded Lia of what Astrid warned her of earlier. “I would like to see the look on Getman’s face when you ask Sowe,” Lia said softly after another spoonful.
Sowe’s eyebrows crinkled and she looked at Lia curiously.
“Who is Getman?” Edmon asked.
“He is the blacksmith helper,” Bryn said. “Strong as an ox, but he is rude and jealous. Everyone is afraid of him except for Lia and Sowe. Lia hates him…well, maybe that is too strong, but she cannot abide his company, and everyone knows he dotes on Sowe.”
“He does?” Edmon asked, appraising Sowe again. “And you consider him as well-mannered as a surgeon’s leech?”
Sowe grinned and they all laughed.
“He is that obnoxious then?” Edmon said. “Well, if dancing with you will spite him, I will gladly risk his enmity. Even if he is as strong as an ox. Probably reeks like one as well.”
Lia liked Edmon immensely. He had a boyish charm that was disarming. “It will definitely thwart his plans. You see, Astrid told me today that Getman promised he would thrash anyone who dances with Sowe except for him.”
Edmon glowered. “Did he now? Well, that is no surprise considering Sowe’s great beauty,” another bow to her, “But surely only a knave would deprive his fellows like this. Where can I find the great boor? I think Colvin and I will have to kill him. Or at least cut off an arm or a leg. Could he still work as a blacksmith with a stump, do you think?” He performed the impression of a man with a gimp and had everyone roaring with laughter. Except for Colvin, who constrained his expression to a smirk and said nothing. When Ellowyn noticed that he was not laughing, she stopped too.
“I for one, will not be intimidated,” Edmon declared, gazing at Sowe. “Let him bluster, but he will not deprive me of the opportunity of dancing with you on Whitsunday. Unless you would rather I not dance with you.” His eyes grew more serious, more focused, as if willing her to say the words.
A little smile came on Sowe’s mouth. “I would like that,” she said, then looked down at the bowl, her cheeks flushing.
“I have witnesses then to your consent. You will vouch for me, Ciana? Ellowyn? Lia? Bryn? What a selfish oaf, claiming you for his own.”
“Pasqua,” Marciana said. “Lia needs to eat something. Where was that plate you were saving for her?”
“I had forgotten, child. It is over by the oven. No, the other corner. Edmon, stop torturing the poor girl with flattery and fetch a sack of flour from the loft as I asked you when you arrived. Be quick lad, it is getting late and I must escort you back to the manor house soon.”
Marciana tugged on Lia’s arm and led her to the oven. “You must be starving but I do not want to waste a moment with you. There is your meal.” As they approached the oven, Lia saw the Leering near it and felt a prickle from the Medium. The eyes glowed red, giving off heat into the oven. She had not done it and glanced at Marciana.
“Not as impressive as what you can do,” she whispered, seeing Lia’s look.
Lia took the bread, looking over her shoulder at Sowe and then at Colvin who was talking softly to Ellowyn. “Colvin taught me so very much,” she answered, memories flooding her. “You are lucky to have him as a brother.”
“Instead of Edmon?” Marciana asked wryly. She gave Lia a knowing look. “Who is handsome and gallant, but…how can I say this tactfully…he is also very shallow. His moods flit from this to that so quickly. Colvin is steady. That is what I admire in him. Poor girl, he already has Sowe dazzled. Warn her when we are gone. He means well, but he craves attention. He is uncomfortable unless everyone is laughing at something he has said, or unless the pretty girls are blushing and dizzy with giddiness. He knows he is handsome, poor devil. Warn Sowe about him, Lia.”
“Warn her?” Lia said, grabbing some fruit from the plate. “He would never do anything dishonorable would he?”
