By Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
Chapter Ten "A Long Talk at the Table"
Sarah didn't remember exactly how she came to be walking home at dawn with Barnabas Burrbuckle.
"Here we are," said Barnabas, stopping by the side of the cobblestone walk that led to the Tones' house, and politely holding the gate open for Sarah.
"Thank you, Mr. Burrbuckle," said Sarah. "I'm still not sure how I got into that well. Or even why I was down there."
"This is no time for filling yourself with worries, Sarah. You get inside, and let's hope no one saw us walking up together."
"But why? You rescued me."
"There's things afoot that're nay so good, lass. Just forget all about this well business and keep to yer schoolwork. Keepin' low's the best thing a young girl like you can do."
"Oh, Mr. Burrbuckle. I'm grateful to you for your pulling me out of the well, but I'm not about to forget about those humongous creatures stepping out of the trees. Where are they now? You know you saw them as well as I did."
"Heard the trees groanin' and swayin' as if the devil were in 'em. But, no, lass, I didna see no gods nor goddesses stomping about the clearin'."
"But they were there just as you and I are here! Surely, you saw the dockworkers milling around. What were they doing there?"
"I didna know myself. That's why I was there. A group of men started goin' all star-eyed and broke away from the Union meeting last night, as if some strange song had got in their heads. Jonas and Steerwell among 'em; and they're as level a pair of lads as any two I know. I just followed 'em to see what was what. I don't like such doings in town. What's usual is what's best, I always say."
"So you were there because you followed the other workers? Did you hear whatever was dragging them to the well?"
"This is no talk for daylight, Miss. Nor for nighttime neither for one as young as yerself. Now go on in and have yer Granny fix you up summat that'll stick to your ribs."
"Well, you come in, too, then. I'm not going to eat a fine big breakfast while you go hungry. You've been on strike a good long while now."
"We've the strike fund still, Sarah. It's not much, but we're well short of starvation. The lads at Cwilliam's Pub are a testament to that. Its a shame to see such fine blokes going overboard as they're doing."
"Granny Pansy always makes enough to feed double. And she'd never let me live it down if I didn't at least have you in for breakfast after rescuing me."
Barnabas Burrbuckle seemed to consider this argument. His great brows drew together with slow concentration, and he surveyed the surrounding countryside surreptitiously, as if gaging some obscure risk of discovery. Finally, a backfire coming from the direction of the Vonnegaunts' house decided him, and he hustled Sarah in through the kitchen door with no more ado than one might herd a wandered calf.
The sight that Sarah saw next made her gasp out loud, and back into Mr. Burrbuckle with a sharpness that forced a small "oof!" from his lips. Sarah's eyes widened just as if she had seen a ghost. Mr. Burrbuckle put his hands on her shoulders with an admonition. "Steady on, girl. Tha's nobbut yer Granny there."
And indeed, there in the kitchen was an old woman stirring a large iron cauldron on the electric stove with a out-sized ladle and wearing a tall conical hat with a wide, black brim. In fact, it was a witch's hat. And under that hat was Sarah's Granny Pansy. A look of unusual concern was on her face, and she addressed the pair of intruders without changing the pace of her stirring one whit.
"Good to see you, Sarah," said Granny Pansy in an unperturbed tone of voice. "What brings you to our home at this early hour, Mr. Burrbuckle?"
"Oh, just happens as I was passin' by, and seen your granddaughter about without her hat. Seems a bit of a chilly day to be going about without one."
"That's an understatement. Sarah, why're you running around outside in your nightgown?"
Sarah didn't know what to say. The smell coming from the cauldron was anything but an edible delight, which usually accompanied whatever Granny Pansy did in the kitchen. Instead, this smelled more like old laundry that was being boiled down before being recycled as a mess of cleaning rags.
"Granny Pansy, are you a... a... a witch?"
"Sit down, child."
Barnabas swayed back and forth on his feet, turning his cap in his hands. "Well, Ma'am, I mun be goin'."
"You sit down too, Barnabas. There's a good deal of the truth to go through before you leave."
"Well, Ma'am, I don't know. Mr. and Mrs. Tone may not take a likin' to it."
"Daffiyd and Gwynnith have been out all night on Committee business. And there'll be plenty of good breakfast to go through before we're done as well. You just sit down right there."
"Yes, Mum," said Barnabas, finding a seat a quick as he could.
"Sarah, we have some important things to discuss. Take your coat down off the peg and put it on. And then fetch the frying pan from under the counter."
"Yes, Ma'am," replied Sarah, her hand already reaching up to get her coat.
There was a long discussion around the table that morning as Granny Pansy asked many sharp questions of the pair. They started with the night at the well, Barnabas telling how Sarah seemed to tip into the well as if she were asleep, and about his following the other dockworkers out to the old grove. He thought perhaps some of the younger ones were on drugs, but knew that Old Jonas never touched even strong cider, and he was as zombified as the rest. Granny Pansy nodded, and she and Sarah put together a large breakfast of eggs, pancakes, a rasher of fresh ham, and lots of other delicious things. When they sat down to eat, Sarah told her story from the beginning, starting with the weird witch-shadow that had tried to choke her reflection it the well, and which had made her jump when she saw Granny as she and Barnabas first came in through the kitchen door. Sarah told all she could remember, although much of what had happened to her was like trying to remember a fevered dream.
Sarah told about finding her brother Gilman's runestone necklace, which made her Granny Pansy start unexpectedly. And by the time Sarah was recounting about the watery rain men and seeing her armored reflection in the well, her Grandmother had begum to nod deeply to herself, as if she was just starting to understand some pattern in these disparate happenings. And when Sarah told of the Gods of Autumn moving free of the ash trees in the grove, with Barnabas confirming only that he still couldn't shake the "queer feelin'" that had come over him, Granny Pansy merely kept a cautious look on her face, and then began to gather up the dishes. At that point, Barnabas jumped up from the table, and took the plate from Granny Pansy's hands, and said he would do the job as well as she.
"Those that eat free, must pay with courtesy. That's what my Grammum always said," Barnabas offered, by way of explanation.
"Thank you, Barnabas," said Sarah, who was watching her Granny Pansy carefully. Granny Pansy hadn't shaken off her serious countenance yet. It was as if she were looking far far into a distance the others could only guess at. Although that may have been partly because of the deep shadow the witch's hat cast over her face.
"Well," said Granny Pansy at last. "Its my fault, and no mistake."
"Granny, what you talking about? How can any of these things possibly be your fault?"
"I've known for a long time that my family was a target for those who might mean to do us ill," she continued cryptically. Sarah had no idea what her Grandmother was talking about. It made even less sense to her than the great green gods of the grove stepping out of the trees.
"That pendant you're now wearing, I first gave to your brother Gilman. I knew he would be wanted by those I speak of. When Gilman was killed in the war, I thought that the story had passed out of our family history. Your Father never had any strong interest, and after her met your Mother, he had even less. Gilman's death made her positively hostile to the whole idea of magic. I had no idea that the warrior crown could pass from brother to sister."
"What does the pendant have to do with it?" said Sarah, holding her hand over her heart where the pendant lay.
"That pendant invokes Adsagsona, mistress and weaver of charms. Its purpose is to disguise its wearer from prying eyes. I gave it to Gilman, hoping that he would be able to go unrecognized by our enemies."
"Our enemies!" exclaimed Sarah. "Who would they be? I didn't know there were any enemies in Traeshurstaene. Do you mean spies of the country Gilman went off to fight?"
"No, Sarah. I do not mean our nation's enemies. I mean our enemies, the followers of Agrona and Afagddu. The Mistress of Slaughter, and the Master of the Utter Darkness."
END OF CHAPTER TEN