17878265 by David Page A

At present, they were tightened into something of a squint by the corners of her all-encompassing smile, which pushed her cheekbones up to her lower lids. Her nose was long and wide, but gently curved, and she was pretty as much because of it as in spite of it. She wore deep green ribbons in her locks to complement her mint-colored dress, which was cut to accentuate her fair bosom.
    Loric ignored her chipped tooth, and he found her freckles altogether alluring, especially those revealed at the top of her dress.
    “What’ll ya’ have, Loric?” called Taggert, from his post behind the bar.
    Loric turned his way to say, “King’s tonic.” By the time he looked back to Belinda, she was gone. She had been swept away to an impromptu dance that encouraged tavern patrons to slide their tables toward the walls. Loric wanted to join the reel, but Taggert had already begun mixing his drink.
    Besides, the barkeep wanted to engage him in conversation. “How’s yer father?” he asked.
    “My father is well,” Loric replied politely. He watched with envious eyes as Belinda spun across the floor. “We sowed the upper field today. That made him happy.”
    “Bet it did,” Taggert replied.
    “There will be more to do tomorrow,” Loric assured him.
    “There’s always another field,” Taggert reckoned.
    Loric nodded absently, agreeing, “Yes.”
    “And yer mother?” Taggert questioned. He extended a tankard toward Loric as he
    suggested, “She is well too, I hope.”
    “Yes,” Loric answered quietly. He looked into the tankard. Its contents were still swirling,
    “She is well, too, but I’ll drink to her health anyway.” He raised his tankard.
    “That’s the spirit, lad!” Taggert lauded him. “First one’s free, so why not?” The barkeep tapped his tin to Loric’s and said, “To Adie.”
    Five other tankards appeared from all directions, as a chorus of voices repeated the toast.
    Loric received foamy splashes from each of those tin mugs. Then he wet his mouth with contents from his own. That first taste was good enough to remind him why it was called a king’s tonic. It was the best drink in the land, and its imbibers would argue that point with any king who said otherwise.
    “Thanks,” Loric said to his host. “What’s the occasion for free drinks?”
    Belinda’s mother, Henrietta, appeared with a twinkle in her blue eyes. Her hair was dull brown, but neatly brushed. She was thick around the middle with her long nose leaning toward her left cheek. Her teeth were just as crooked as her smeller was, but she was the kindest soul Loric had ever met. “Hello, Loric,” she greeted him.
    Henrietta opened her mouth to say more, but the door opened and a tall, sturdy woman with straw-colored hair entered, followed by her magistrate husband, Borag, who topped six-feet and three inches and had to weigh twenty stone. Barag came behind them, along with his younger brothers, Galen and Mikel. Father and three sons shared big bodies and stringy blond hair, but Barag was the biggest and loudest of them all. He was six-foot-eight and thicker than his Da, with the face of a bulldog.
    Taggert and Henrietta greeted Borag, Sonya and their sons fondly. Belinda stepped toward the newcomers, looking a convoluted mixture of anxiousness and excitement that was altogether bewildering to Loric. Hugs and handshakes were exchanged all around, and out of the midst of that gathering, Loric heard Taggert ask, “Good magistrate, would you like to make the announcement or should I?”
    Loric’s heart crashed through his stomach.
    “Borag!” the magistrate corrected Taggert in his bass boom. “Call me Borag. We are
    practically family, after all.” As an afterthought, he decided, “But you are the host, Tagg. Go on and tell them the good news.”
    Loric slowly began backing away from the bar, with the walls shrinking around him as he did so. He sensed what was coming, and it was not to his liking. He had envisioned a different