![]() ![]() Rhea raised her twisted old claws and it stilled at once. He stood before her with 'is defenseless hands raised, pleadin for his life on behalf of his wife and his babby to come, and still she shot 'im! Cruel, she is! Cruel and heartless!"Ī mutter ran through the crowd. this same girl who murdered yer town's Sheriff and a good young man - married, he was, and with a kid on the way. I'm Rhea, the wise-woman of the Coos, and this lady beside me is aunt to the girl who freed three murderers last night. "Those of ye who don't have never wanted a love-potion or needed the ram put back in yer rod or gotten tired of a nagging mother-in-law's tongue. "Most of ye know me!" she cried in a rusty voice which stopped just short of stridency. When she reached the center of the bar and stood directly beneath The Romp's glare, she turned to look at the silent drovers and townsfolk. Rhea advanced to the middle of the floor, passing the gawking trail-hands at the Watch Me tables without so much as a glance. ![]() Her face was as white as the witch-woman's mouth was red. The woman behind her walked slowly and stiffly, with one hand pressed against her midsection. Her lips were red, as if she had been eating winterberries. It was the Coos, the old witch-woman, and although her face was pocked with sores and her eyes sunk so deep in their sockets they could barely be seen, she gave off a peculiar sense of vitality. A good many knew the crone in the lead, and several of them crossed their eyes with their thumbs as a ward against her evil look. It was at this point, not long after the last toll of noon had faded into the cold air, that the batwing doors opened and two women came in. These folk, sullen-drunk and as potentially dangerous as stormclouds filled with lightning, wanted someone to focus on, someone to tell them what to do.Īnd, of course, someone to toss on the fire, as in the days of Eld. no good cheer, dammit! No hearty farewell to the end of the year! Instead of joviality there had been murder in the dark, and the escape of the guilty, and now only the hope of retribution instead of the certainty of it. There would still be a bonfire, and plenty of stuffy-guys to bum on it, but there were no Reap-kisses today and would be no dancing tonight no riddles, no races, no pig-wrestle, no jokes. Reaping Fair had been stolen from them, and they didn't know what to do about it. The mood of the drinkers was confused and sullen. ![]() Sheb, who would be happy to go on drawing breath for another thousand years if the gods so allowed, quit his piano-bench at once, and went to the bar to help Stanley and Pettie the Trotter serve up the booze. Sheb had tried a hesitant tune on the piano - "Big Bottle Boogie," everyone liked that one - and a cowboy with a mutie-mark on one cheek had put the tip of a knife in his ear and told him to shut up that noise if he wanted to keep what passed for his brains on the starboard side of his eardrum. Better than two hundred souls were packed together beneath the dead gaze of The Romp, all of them drinking hard, yet there was hardly a sound among them save for the shuffle of feet and the impatient rap of glasses on the bar, indicating that another drink was wanted. And if the unaccustomed silence which hung over the rest of Hambry seemed strange as that Reap morning passed into afternoon, the silence in the Travellers' Rest was downright eerie. Twelve o' the clock sounded from the squat bell-tower atop the Town Gathering Hall. Were in Coral's head now they echoed and would not leave. The whey-faced bitch sitting down there amongst the carrots and potatoes knew nothing, but her words She brushed between them, not listening to their assurances, and went up to her late brother's suite to wait for Jonas, or word of Jonas. Go smart, before I decide to kick yer winsome ass square." A smell of potatoes and gourds and sharproot drifted out. She had been hurt by experts this day, and would suffer more hurt gladly, if that would hasten the moment when she and Roland could be together again.Ĭoral hauled her the rest of the way down the corridor, through the kitchen (that great room, which would have been all steam and bustle on any other Reaping Day, now stood uncannily deserted), and to the iron-bound door on the far side. ![]() Hard enough to hurt, this time, but Susan barely felt it. Will that change how ye sleep tonight with no man to warm the other side of the bed?"Ĭoral's hand came down fast and hard, but instead of slapping, it seized Susan's arm again. Cut my face open on the other side, if ye like. "I know who killed Hart as well as ye do yerself, so don't pull mine and I won't yank yer own." She watched Coral's hand rise, ready to slap, and managed a dry laugh. "Get off it." Susan wiped her nose, grimaced at the blood pooled in her palm, and wiped it on the leg of her pants. He's sent to catch the boys who killed my brother. ![]()
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