Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) (16 page)

Yaz looks away. “Oh that; yeah, right.”

“If you see anyone or anything out of place today, you tell me right away.”

Yaz nods and purses his lips. “No problem, you can count on me.”

“I am, Brother. These are dangerous men. Don’t mess around today and let me down and keep your sister safe.”

“No problem, like I said, you can count on me.”

Deet stares at Yaz for a few seconds, hammering home his point and then turns to Preta. “Gather your clean clothes.” He eyes Yaz. “Get a weapon and take Preta to the privy and washhouse.” Deet twists his face and scans Yaz from head to toe. “And clean yourself up, you stink
.
”

Yaz extends his neck out like a goose and sniffs the air like a dog. He buries his nose deep into his armpit. “I don’t stink.”

Preta chuckles and slings her backpack over her shoulder.

Yaz grabs a sword and his pack and opens the front door. He struts down the road with Preta following a few paces behind him.

“Next to me, Sis.” Yaz flips his sword upward, resting it on his right shoulder.

Preta pinches Yaz’s shirt as she strides next to him step for step.

“What’s up?” Yaz says. “Why’d you tell him?”

Preta shrugs. “Sorry, I didn’t really have a choice, and it’s more like I showed him more than told him—but it doesn’t matter.”

“How did you show him?”

“On Berta.” She pats Yaz’s arm. “Don’t worry though, what you did taking out the bear was still impressive. Just like the show you put on for me last night—
impressive
.”

Yaz contorts his face, not following Preta’s meaning. “What about last night are you talking about?”

Preta explains the night’s adventures and Lomasie and the whistler.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe today, Sis.”

They reach the privies, and Preta makes for the one on the end.

“Lock the door, and I’ll be in the one next to you,” Yaz says. “If you need me, yell and stay inside until I’m done. I’ll call you out when it’s safe.”

She smiles at him and goes inside the privy. Preta does her thing and waits for Yaz to give the word.

Ten minutes pass, and Preta stares at the door, counting the grain in the wood as she waits for her brother.

Yaz’s privy door slams shut. “Come on out, Sis.”

Preta peeks out the door, and Yaz is already strolling toward the washhouses. She leaps out the privy door and stutter steps to catch up to him.

“This way and keep up.” Yaz sniffs his armpit. “And I don’t stink.”

At the well, Preta fills up two rotten wooden buckets with water.

Yaz steps into a washhouse. “Same routine as before.”

Preta nods and goes inside hers. She hangs her pack on a wooden peg, removes a small cloth bundle of minerals and flowers and oils, and dumps it into the smaller bucket then strips off her clothes while leaving on her sandals.

Her feet make a sloshing, grinding noise stepping next to the wash trench.

Sandy wave patterns are formed on the floor and extend away from a dirty, metal bathtub. Water pools in the low areas. A dank smell of dirt, poo, grease, and flowers emanate off the bricks.

It’s been over two weeks since Preta washed her hair. Her fingers catch in the tangled knots. Clumps rip out as she tugs a comb through the mess. Preta winces and grunts with each agonizing pull. Finally, hair de-knotted, she scrubs her face and works her way to the rest of her body.

Preta stops humming as something startles her. “What’s that?” She scurries through the wet grime caked on the damp floor and presses her ear against the coarse wood to get a better listen. “The whistler.”

The whistling grows louder, moving closer to Preta’s washhouse. Still wet, she scrambles getting dressed then pushes open the door, peeking through the crack. “Yaz, Yaz, it’s him, it’s the whistler, behind my shed, the whistler!”

A bang and yell reverberates from Yaz’s washhouse. “
Wha-huh
— Where?”

Preta peeks out the door; her naked brother stands out in the open, sword in hand and crouched down in a fighting pose.

She looks away embarrassed. Preta sticks her arm out the crack, shaking and pointing to the side. “Behind my washhouse whistling—he’s whistling.”

A naked Yaz bolts to the back of Preta’s washhouse as he mumbles cuss words.

She presses her ear against the back wall, listening carefully.

“Hey, you,” Yaz says. “Yeah—
you
. You threaten my sister?”

The whistling stops. “
What
?” an older skinny man says with a yellow towel draped over his shoulder.

Yaz points at him. “You’re a dead man.”

“Wait,
what
? Are you crazy? Lower your sword, I mean you no trouble.”

Preta bulls through her washhouse door. “Oh no, it’s not him. Yaz, no!”

Yaz rocks his head side to side, mocking the older man. “Look at you just standing there all smug, thinking you’re all that, talking about trouble. Well, now you found trouble—coming after my sister—you’re a dead man.”

“What’s wrong with you?” The man holds out his shaky hand in front of him. “Are you crazy?”

Preta rounds the washhouse, waving her arms trying to get her brother’s attention.

Yaz is mounted on the man and yelling and swearing in unknown tongues. He beats the whimpering man senseless.

“Yaz, stop, it’s not him, it’s not him!” Preta lunges onto Yaz’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck and clasping her hands over his chest. “Yaz, stop, it’s not him, get off him, stop!”

Yaz stops beating the man and calmly sits up. “Not him?”

Preta snorts to catch her breath while trying to talk. “Not him, Yaz—not the whistler—sorry.”

Yaz stands, straddling the bloodied man lying on the ground underneath him.

The man clutches his head and whimpers as he rocks side to side. “You, you’re crazy, you-you animal.”

Preta tugs Yaz’s arm. “Come with me—
now
.”

Yaz steps away from the man. “What the hell, Preta Penter?”

“I’m sorry, I thought, I thought it was him. He whistled like him for a moment.”

Yaz extends his hand toward the man lying on the ground. “Hey, sorry, fella, no hard feelings, it was just an honest mistake.”

The man, afraid, props up onto his butt and quickly scoots away. “Honest mistake? Honest mistake? You-you, stay away from me, you crazy animal you.”

“Hey, no worries, friend.” Yaz picks up his sword and flips it onto his shoulder. “Just think, it’s your lucky day, at first I thought about removing your head with my blade.”

Preta turns away, embarrassed as her naked brother struts toward her.

“What the heck?” Yaz says, sneering at her as he passes her by.

“You, you, you,” the man says, pointing, “you’re no friend of mine, you animal.”

Yaz turns toward the man and spreads his legs wide with knees half bent. He waves his sword above his head in circles and roars at the top of his lungs toward the clouds in the sky.

Preta grabs Yaz’s shoulders and yanks him back. “Stop it, before he fetches the town guard on you!”

“
What
? He said I was an animal. So I’m just showing him an animal.”

“You scared him enough,” Preta says.

Yaz shakes his head. “
Whatever
. But still, what the heck?”

“I’m sorry, really, I thought it was him.”

“Next time be sure of your whistling before I kill someone.”

YOU’LL GET WHAT YOUR OWED

Preta doesn’t say a word as she drags her feet, sulking behind Yaz all the way back to Lurrus’s cottage. The cottage is alive with commotion as she enters. Scents of oranges and daisies fill the room.

Lurrus stands in the corner with her white wedding dress on. Her mother is on her knees, hemming a seam near Lurrus’s waist.

Lurrus’s two brothers and Deet carry flower arrangements and crates filled with wine bottles out the front door.

Grandpa and Lurrus’s father sit by the fire and argue about the weather and food as they drink coffee.

“What took you so long?” Deet says, placing his hands on hips. “I almost came looking for you.”

Preta drops her pack on the table. “We were really dirty.”

Yaz rolls his eyes. “
Yeah
,
dirty
.”

Deet points at crates stacked by the back door. “Yaz, grab those and take them to the cart.”

“What should I do?” Preta says.

“Help Yaz. Today, anywhere he goes, you go, do you understand?”

“I understand. I won’t let him out of my sight.”

Thirty minutes later, Preta places the final crate on the cart, and a bead of sweat rolls down her cheek. She leans against the ivy-covered cottage stone wall and gazes up at the sun and inhales the cool fall air. The exertion finally eases her mind, and she focuses on the wonderful day it’s supposed to be.

In the cottage, Lurrus and Nala already dressed, Deet gently touches Preta’s arm. “You stay here while we drop everything off at the pavilion. We’ll be back in about an hour.”

Preta nods and moves to Lurrus. She pinches and strokes Lurrus’s wedding dress.

Lurrus cries, and Preta hugs her.

Nala hands Preta a yellow dress. “Get changed, kiddo, the wedding starts at eleven.”

Dressed and cleaned up, Preta’s heart races as she looks at herself in the mirror and lifts the bottom of her dress, tossing it up and down while twirling on her tiptoes. She spins and spins and spins until she loses her balance, staggering to the side, giggling.

“This old man can’t take many more nights like last night,” Grandpa says from the other room.

Lurrus’s blond-haired jolly father slaps Grandpa on his knee. “You and me both, Lon.”

Deet closes the front door, and Preta steps into the main room to greet him.

Deet and Yaz move with purpose straight toward the back room.

They emerge a few minutes later different men: hair groomed, clean shaven, and wearing black suits and overcoats.

“Ready, all?” Deet says, eyeing the girls.

Lurrus smiles and nods.

Deet flicks his head toward Yaz. “Get the cart, Brother.”

Preta follows Yaz outside.

Yaz lifts Preta by her waist, helping her into the backseat.

Nala stands next to the cart, holding out her hand toward Yaz. She tilts her head to the side and shakes her hand. “
Ahem
.”

Yaz gives Nala a stupid look. “
Ahem
what?”

“
Ahem
,
ahem
,” and she shakes her hand harder.

Yaz winks at her. “All right, Sister.” He takes Nala’s arm and helps her up into the backseat.

Grandpa climbs up next. “Damned bones.”

Preta braces his back with her hand.

“Thank you, girl.” Then he groans.

Deet and Lurrus exit the cottage last.

Deet leads Lurrus to her family’s carriage. He hugs her hips and lifts her up into her seat, then moves to Preta’s cart.

Yaz slaps Deet hard on his thigh. “Let’s go, my Deets.”

Deet chuckles. “Let’s get married, my slayer.”

The carriages follow each other through the main thoroughfare past the shops and decorated streets. At the town square, they make a hard right, traveling for a couple minutes down an alley.

The alley opens up and transitions from cobblestones to red brick. They roll into a medium-sized square at the intersection of four alleyways. In the center, a wooden pavilion decorated with flowers and ivy and colorful paper strings and ribbon.

Musicians play soft music and people arrive from all directions.

Yaz helps Nala and Preta off the cart.

They stroll toward the large thatched roof structure.

Two rows of wooden benches stretch side to side, filling the pavilion. Red, yellow, and white flower petals blanket the center aisle from the back to the front. Wreaths with holly hang on the wooden posts, and flower peddles overflow out of large metal buckets.

A cheery, scruffy, toothless man serves wine and ale out of a white canvas-covered cart.

People laugh and dance and drink in folly throughout the open square.

A whole pig spins on a spit over a large fire pit. Next to the hog, a long wooden table is stacked with breads, cheeses, fruits, and vanilla and chocolate cakes.

The square smells of ale, flowers, and roasting meat.

Preta’s eyes widen beholding the wondrous sight.

Yaz pats Preta’s back. “Have fun, Sis, but stay close to me.” He waves to greet Dix and two other friends as they strut toward Yaz and Preta.

Dix extends his hand. “
Ha
, you made it, Penter—wasn’t so sure you would after what you looked like last night.”

Yaz swats the air. “
Whatever
.”

Dix throws his arm around Yaz’s shoulder and they make their way to the pavilion. Dix leans back. “How you doing today, Preta?”

“As good as can be, I guess.” Preta, walking behind them, quickly shuffles her feet and skips trying to keep up. Her long yellow dress drags on the ground. Still aware of the potential danger, she scans the crowd, searching for Lomasie or the whistler.

“Preta,” Agna says, getting up from a chair. She pats her husband’s shoulder, an old, snarly, thick man swilling ale, then moves toward Preta.

Startled, Preta flinches at the sound of her name. “
Oh
, hello, Agna.”

Yaz reaches behind him, grabbing nothing but air. “Keep up, Sis, get up here and stay close to me.”

Dix laughs. “What’s with the tail on your ass today, Penter?”

“Shut up, Dix.”

Agna smiles. “So, how have you been? You look lovely today.”

Preta returns a half-hearted smile. “I’ll tell you later. Though what you said the other day might be happening.”

Again, Yaz reaches behind his back and grabs air as he tries to find Preta. “Keep up.”

Dix slaps Yaz’s shoulder. “So we’re still on, right? You know, for later?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Yaz says with a shrug.

Dix laughs in spurts. “I don’t know,
maybe
? Shut up,
Penter
, you’re coming.”

“I said I don’t know, so leave it be.”

Dix contorts his lips. “I always knew it, all talk and no walk.”

“Shut up, Ix, not now.”

At the pavilion, Preta sits in the front row next to Nala and Grandpa.