The Twisting (7 page)

Chapter SEVEN

With Annmar’s arm
firmly in Mary Clare’s grip, they crossed the farmyard. In the gathering dusk, the mountain breezes brought a freshness to the evening air, and Annmar breathed it eagerly after days indoors. The farm crops and orchard trees. The strange smells she now recognized as the mix of animals. The clean, tilled earth. And one last outdoorsy aroma that Annmar really liked.

This scent was stronger than the others, something so familiar, but so elusive. She couldn’t tell where exactly it came from. It seemed to underlie everything. Annmar wanted it close, to draw it and explore why she should know this
thing
, in much the same way she wanted to explore Daeryn.

She shivered.

Mary Clare tightened her grip. “Tired?”

She was, but Annmar met Mary Clare’s worried frown with a smile. How did you explain something like this to someone who had never lived in an industrial borough like Derby? That Blighted Basin and everything about this country life was taking hold of her in a strange and exciting way. Tired was worth it. She could be tired every day from now until she went back and it wouldn’t matter. She would spend every minute experiencing this novel place, and Daeryn, and enjoy them both.

Annmar sighed. “Just going to dinner may be an event for me.”

“Miriam is probably going to have my head. But come on, we’re nearly there.” Mary Clare pushed open the back door. Along the hall the clanking of dishes and a buzz of voices came from the dining room.

“Dang.” Mary Clare picked up her pace, rushing Annmar by the sickroom and its tempting cots. “We’re late. Dessert is out.” They hurried through the dining room’s archway, past lingering farmworkers and to the first empty chair at the long table. Mary Clare saw Annmar seated and dashed off.

All around Annmar, people talked of the night ahead, shooting and gobblers. Half of the nearby growers looked familiar, a comforting change from her first dinner here. Fewer ’cambires sat among them, but now Annmar could pick out the animal changers, even without her Knack. At a glance, any of these people would pass for human in Derbyshire. Hair, skin and body shapes were as varied as any Outside. But among them, many—like Daeryn sitting at the far end of the table—possessed a faintly unusual look about their faces.

She couldn’t keep from looking at him, now decently covered in a golden shirt and trousers and speaking with Famil, leader of the day guards. Strands of his hair curled over the crown of his head, flipped and tossed as if by the wind, his longish bangs swiped to one side, not at all like his neat, bristling polecat face.

His eyes were brown, a normal enough color, especially compared to Famil’s orange eagle ones. Very few had blue like Annmar’s, but then most of the Basin residents had dark hair, so perhaps the ancestry was lacking. Where might the early settlers have come from? Far from England, to produce eyes as rich as Daeryn’
s
.

Their gazes met, and Annmar twitched hers away. Pain shot through her head at the quick motion. Oh, the things she shouldn’t think, shouldn’t do. She picked up her fork before realizing she didn’t have any food, so put it down and instead grabbed her napkin to place in her lap.

The chair next to her scraped out, and Miriam settled beside her with a frown. “I should be happy to see you, but I’m not.” She lifted her wrist to Annmar’s forehead. “Whatever were you thinking, getting out of bed?”

The napkin lost its folds in her clenched hands. “I’m not sure. But we figured I may as well eat before returning.” At least her head wasn’t throbbing again.

“I presume
we
includes Mary Clare. Ah, there she is. I need to have a word with that girl. You stay put.” Miriam stalked off in pursuit of Mary Clare.

Annmar found her gaze trailing over to Daeryn again, just in time to see him look back to his conversation with Famil and Jac. This time she turned more carefully, but still jostled a plate of cake being offered to her.

“Sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Henry said. “Mary Clare asked me to bring you dessert while she’s gone to the kitchen for your dinner. Mind if I sit with you?”

“Please.” She gestured to the chair Miriam had vacated and took the plate.

Henry sat and scooted the chair closer, leaning in to whisper, “I wanted to thank you for healing my arm the other night. I hope you’re feeling better.”

“I am, and thanks to your help, I’m not worse. So thank you.”

His head dipped in somewhat of a nod, but his eyes kept tracking around the room. “I’m hunting gobblers tonight.” Henry repeated the news of the stunners, including additional information about how the fungus fuel could also knock out a person and leave a worker defenseless.

“Are there plans for protecting the unconscious person until he or she comes around again?”

Henry shrugged.

Good Lord. No wonder the boy acted nervous. Someone could get torn up worse than a bite to the leg. One of the older farmworkers might be better informed than Henry, one in charge, like… She met Daeryn’s gaze again. This time neither of them looked away. She needed to talk to him, about other things, but this would be a start. A simple wave would—

Mary Clare placed bowls of broth and mashed potatoes before her. “Have you heard, Annmar?” She dropped into the chair on her other side. “Daeryn surveyed the surrounding farms. The fields south are so-so. Chapel Hollow buffers us to the east, and the mountains to the west, but on the northern farms he can tell the sides east toward Gapton are ravaged the worst. That must be the direction the gobblers are coming from. They’re plotting how we might stop them along that side.”

“A group of us growers will help patrol the edges to learn where they cross most often,” Henry said.

“It’ll be difficult, even with the extra help.” Mary Clare nodded to a sandy-haired fellow down the table, who smiled in return. “My friend Leander Lightstep came. He and the few other ’cambires from town will add in with our nocturnal guards.”

Annmar had seen him before—oh, Leander was the young livery driver who had brought her up to Wellspring her first day here. At least he was older than Henry, poor fellow. “Are you sure you’re up to doing this?” she asked him.

Henry nodded in a stiff way, appearing determined but still looking like the scared boy he was. “I don’t want to return to the orphanage. Another fellow and I are offering our wages back to Mistress Gere to help. We want to stay on, even if the harvest is ruined.”

Annmar peeked at Mary Clare. Her freckled forehead and nose were wrinkled, her lips twisted unhappily. This was bad.

With knit brows, Henry turned back and forth between them. “Honest”—he placed his hand over his heart—“by the Creator’s Path, I’ll do whatever I can to stop the gobblers.”

He sounded so adamant. Annmar patted his arm. “Of course I believe you will.”

“Any chance you’ll be around tonight?” Henry stared, his brows still bunched together.

Surely they didn’t expect her to shoot one of these stunners. “Me?”

“In case something happens. On our patrols. You know, to back up Miss Miriam. It’d be real nice if you could do your special healing again.”

He’d lowered his voice, but Annmar glanced around. Mary Clare had her fork frozen halfway to her mouth, and worse, Miriam was staring from across the table.

She leaned to Henry and whispered, “I’ll see what I can do. Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks, miss. Be seeing you.”

The blond boy scurried off. Annmar spooned up potatoes, but the thought of eating wasn’t appealing.

Mary Clare whispered, “You cannot be walking up and down the stairs tonight. Miriam bit my head off about bringing you down.”

“The stairs were a trial.”

Miriam lowered into Henry’s vacant seat. “Consider spending tonight in the sickroom.”

Annmar stared at her. “And if the sickroom is as busy as the last time I was there?”

“With this many inexperienced people roaming the dark fields I expect more accidents. You’ll be handy to help,” Miriam said, though she shook her head. “My earlier warning still holds: You must avoid close artwork. Your body is still healing, so I’ll only call upon you if a severe injury presents itself
and
you can help without eyestrain. Station yourself on one of the cots as soon as possible, and I will have no problem waking you.” She smiled. “I’m not even asking how. Or”—she fixed her gaze on Mary Clare, who had been unusually quiet—“I will be the one having my head bit off. By Mistress Gere.”

They all laughed, but Mary Clare sobered first and tapped Annmar’s arm. “Remember when I told you it’s best to ask a person’s permission before, er, healing them?”

Before working her Knack on them, she meant. Annmar nodded and turned to Miriam. “My skills might be a bit different than yours. How do I know someone would welcome my help?”

“If you work for Constance, she takes care of your medical needs. We presume every worker agrees to be helped if they appear in my sickroom. However, if it makes you more comfortable, all you need to do is ask something along the lines of, ‘Would you like me to help you?’”

This easily banished Annmar’s concerns. Mary Clare asked what she could fetch for Annmar, brazenly seeking Miriam’s agreement that Annmar should change from her confining corset. When she left, Miriam rose as well. “I’ll ask a couple of helpers to place a cot in the library. It’ll be quieter in there for you.”

Most of the farmworkers milled about, returning their dishes to the tray in the corner. Daeryn was one of the few people sitting, still in a tight conversation with Famil. If only Daeryn would leave first, she could have a word with him. While she waited, the first bite of the food Mary Clare had brought her reminded her of how delicious Mrs. Betsy’s real cooking was. She’d finished when Daeryn dropped into the chair next to her. Her stomach flopped again, like a reaper gone mad.

“Hello,” he said. His voice quavered just as her fingers did. “I suppose you’ve heard about tonight.”

She nodded. “I’ll be staying in the library to help Miriam.”

“Excellent.” A big grin crossed his face. “Not only will you be on hand to help, you’ll also be in the safest location. Miz Gere won’t be sleeping tonight. I’ve just discussed a guard rotation with Famil. Rather than wear everyone thin, some folks are taking napping shifts.”

Oh, my. With every person she spoke to, this was sounding more like a battle. She probably shouldn’t ask this, but she had to know. “What if you can’t find where the pests are entering Wellspring?”

Daeryn raised one shoulder and dropped it. “You missed the announcement that Miz Gere has a man coming tomorrow to look at the damage and assess if his Eradicator machine will work here. He’s making incredible guarantees he can eliminate any pest problem, but every farmer Miz Gere has talked to is complaining over his outrageous pricing.”

That’s why Henry was offering up his wages. “What is the cost?”

Daeryn shrugged again. “Don’t know yet for a place this size, but we’ve got word from a fellow with the nocturnal team that they can’t afford it for his brother’s place across the valley.”

“Oh, dear,” Annmar murmured in sympathy. She’d watched Miss Rennet’s business dealings, as much as she could without drawing attention. A loss for her meant she’d had to let some of her dozen draftsmen and artists go, downsizing her business. A family farm didn’t have anyone to let go. She didn’t know anything about large farms, but she could guess the outcome.

Daeryn pushed back his chair and stood. “You finished? I’ll take your dishes.” She nodded, and he lifted them, but instead of leaving, he shifted from foot to foot. “So, tonight you won’t go outdoors alone?”

“Miriam would never allow it. I can tell already.”

He grinned. “No, she won’t. Be seeing you, then.”

“I hope not.”

The smile fell from his face.

Oh, no, that wasn’t what…“If we did, that would mean you had to come to the sickroom.” She raised both hands and pinched her fingers together like biting teeth.

He rolled his eyes. “Right. I better start petitioning the Great Creator that none of us sees you tonight.”

He carried her dishes to the tray, and she couldn’t help but watch him. That had sounded like good-bye. But he had to walk right by her again to leave. They had talked, but not about what needed to be said. Daeryn returned, giving just a little finger wave. He continued to the arched doorway while she worked on the wording. If he got injured, or worse…

She should—
she would do this
. She rose and hurried after him. “Daeryn?”

Yards ahead of her, he turned. Her heart raced. They were alone in the dim hall. She could ask. She could find out. She could tell him. If only she could breathe.

Five steps and she stood close enough that no one else would hear, and when she drew a breath to ask, the air between them was edged with a now-familiar masculine scent. “Why did you spend so much time with me while I was ill?” she whispered. “Everyone said the wards would hold on my room against…the ropen. Didn’t you believe them?”

Daeryn shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his work trousers and shrugged, all in one smooth motion. “The wards will hold. I just wanted to.”