Lamma's Night (anthology)

do to me that the pain of living hasn't already done? You all know her!' she shouted. There were more women in the square, Miranda realized all at once: girls and maidens carrying infant sisters or brothers, young women barely old enough to put their hair up, young women wed but not yet quickened. All eyeing her or the old woman—or, in surprise, Alfonso, who was a glowering bulk at her shoulder. 'What woman in the village didn't know her immediately? This is Miranda—Queen Miranda, our Miranda! Since she came, she's done nothing but good: blessing the crops so none starved; blessing the young women carrying first babes—how many such young women have we lost since she came here?' Silence. The men began edging away from the bound pair; Gaetano stared at the old woman as though frozen. 'None! Not—one! Nor any other quickened woman, either!' She turned to glare at the headman, who fell one step away from her. 'How dare you even suggest a woman who cares for the least of us would ever conspire against us?' She shoved her way past him, laid a wrinkled old hand against Miranda's cheek. 'Don't fear, my lady. There's not one woman in this village who'll permit harm to you.' She turned to glare at the armed men, but they were already backing away, muttering among themselves. The old woman gestured imperiously, and at her gesture, the other women came forward to undo the bonds on both prisoners.

Miranda blinked tears aside and swallowed. 'I— thank you, Madam Ella. I—'

'Aunt.' Alfonso brushed by her to take the old woman in his arms. Ella sighed happily and caught him around the waist.

'You're too thin, boy. You'll need feeding.'

'Never—never mind that, Aunt. But—' He pressed her gently aside; Gaetano was gone. 'My uncle—who saw him just now?' No one had, it appeared; many of those around them looked quite worried because of it.

Miranda cleared her throat. 'Never mind, good people! He can't harm you so long as one of us remains to guard the village!'

'One?' One of the younger women stepped forward and took hold of Miranda's hands. 'But—but which of you?'

'I will not force her to leave,' Alfonso began angrily. Miranda shook her head.

'You do not leave this village! You are the one born and raised here, it's your family, your people! And I—if word somehow reaches Milan where I've come to rest, there's danger for everyone here, not just for me!'

'I will not have it!' Alfonso shouted.

'Silence!' Ella roared. Silence she got; even the men eyed her with caution and were suddenly still. 'None of us will betray this woman! Swear it now!' And as some of the men cast each other dark looks and hesitated, 'When ever did Gaetano do you favors?'

One of them stepped forward, dropping his long pike into the dust as he did. 'All right, Ella! Anything to stop your bellowing! But she's right, isn't she? The man sought ever a new book, a new liquid or powder and whose coin bought it all? Ours! And who received the good of that liquid or powder when it worked? Gaetano! Whatever she may be, this woman has cost us nothing—'

'Ahhh, such praise, Sebastian!' old Ella snarled. 'Did she not save your son from a lifelong laming, this past winter?' Silence. 'Swear!' Ella shouted. A murmur of voices answered her 'Swear.'

Miranda eyed her companion sidelong. He still looked worried, possibly at the edge of anger as well. Under all, she thought, confused. He's young yet, she reminded herself. He glanced her direction, caught her eye and blushed a deep, mottled red right to his hairline. She smothered a smile. Young, and capable of emotion beyond anger, given the chance. Not Ferdinand—but that same height and bone structure, a pleasant combination. And, she thought, a boy with the right emotions, in there somewhere. Waiting for an elderly aunt like Ella—or perhaps another, younger woman—to free them.

Ferdinand, will you blame me if 1 find happiness—if I try to find happiness with this green boy?

No answer, of course. She hadn't expected one. But something deep within her was suddenly at peace. Alfonso gave her a rueful smile and took her hand.

'Lady—your pardon, Miranda—the hut is yours, of course.'

'It's not so small as all that,' she replied mildly. 'And your books are there, as well as mine. It's a good-sized village with a new need for protection. I'd be remiss if I sent you away, don't you think?' He eyed her doubtfully; she smiled. 'You know the headman, after all—better than I. The village needs us both.'

Silence. When he nodded and bent to lass her fingers, the women around them—and no few of the men— cheered. Miranda blinked aside tears. To be wanted—needed! This was a new thing, indeed. She gazed at Alfonso thoughtfully. He wouldn't completely trust her just yet, of course; possibly she wouldn't entirely trust him, either. They'd manage, eventually.

Demonheart

Mark Shepherd

For generations my family had kept the demons of the northern wood in check, and never before had the spirits succeeded in overtaking one of our kind. Until now.

Whether or not the demon found my prison ironic escaped my sharpened senses, as I was still grappling with the anger, and humiliation, of being defeated at my own game. How dare this demon imprison the soul of Wizard Keighvin and torment me with promises of freedom?

The prison was simple, effective. In this place of dark thoughts and ghostly beings—indeed, I was a ghost —my captor made a sphere from which I could not escape. With no sense of up or down, my soul floated freely in this cage, having forgotten already what it was like to have a body, to be able to touch, to walk, and to breathe in cool night air. And the irony was, this prison drew its power from the very circle-casting I had forged in the northern meadow; with which I'd intended to imprison, or at least ward away, the being which kept me under lock and key now! I wanted freedom, but whoever or whatever was responsible was slow to inform me of its motives. Years seemed to pass before I understood the extent of my hellish fate.

I knew I had to forget the happiness I had enjoyed in the small village if I were to avoid total madness, and focus on what was happening to me now. If indeed I had any purpose left, it was to defeat this demon with whatever I could. But to do that, I had to learn about it. And the easiest way to do that would be to feign an