Call of the Herald by Brian Rathbone

great
pride in, and Catrin was glad to have it. Her father often said it
was not deep enough for his liking, and he feared it would run dry
during droughts, but it had yet to fail them.
    He once explained to Catrin that they were at
the upper edge of an artesian basin. Water became trapped between
layers of rock and was subjected to immense pressure. If you were
to penetrate the rock anywhere along the basin, water would rise on
its own, possibly forming a small fountain. Some places in
Harborton had such wells, which had been allowing water to escape
for hundreds of years.
    After dumping out the dirty water, she gave
the buckets a good scrubbing before refilling them; then she and
Benjin hung them in the stalls. Afterward, they took hay and water
to the horses that were out to pasture. The routine soothed Catrin;
the rhythm of life on the farm was predictable and comforting. The
tasks were familiar, and she could perform them skillfully, which
gave her great pride. She liked nothing better than to do something
well; doing a mediocre job was one of her greatest fears.
    Finding herself thirsty, she walked over to
the well for a drink and was disturbed to see a shiny black
carriage under the trees. A squire tended a fine black mare, and
Catrin was dumbfounded to see Master Edling speaking with her
father. He was garbed in formal black robes, the blue embroidery as
bright as a bluebird. He seemed out of place on the farm, a place
of sweat and dirt, far from the pristine halls of the Masterhouse.
Her father did not look happy, but neither did he appear to be
angry, at least not with Master Edling.
    Frozen in anxious suspense, Catrin stood very
still, hoping no one would notice her and fighting the urge to
flee. Benjin came to her side, carrying a spare water bucket.
    "Don't let them get the best of you, li'l
miss. They are no better than the rest of us, no matter how
prettily they dress or how clean they keep their fingernails," he
said, filling the bucket. He pushed her toward her father as he
carried the bucket to the squire. Her father shot her a steely
glance and pointed to the cottage, an unspoken command. Catrin
followed the two men into the cottage, cowed.
    Her father offered Master Edling a seat and
served summerwine and cheese. After a respectful interval, he
turned to Catrin.
    "Master Edling has come for two reasons.
First, he is here to represent the Council of Masters. They've
decided, due to the serious nature of the 'incident,' it would be
best if you did not attend the public lessons--at least until this
has all been sorted out," he said.
    Catrin heard his words, and she understood
what the council meant. We don't think you should appear in
public again--ever, she thought, shrinking in on herself.
    "Second, Master Edling has volunteered to act
as your tutor. He must still instruct the public lesson days, but
he will come here on the off days to give you lessons. Quite kind
of him, I'd say," he said with a nod to Master Edling. "I should be
getting back to work, so I'll leave you to your lesson. If you'll
excuse me, Master Edling."
    "Yes, yes, indeed," Master Edling said,
absently waving him from the room.
    Catrin felt trapped, forced into isolation.
Master Edling's visit was just the beginning. Keeping her away from
town would only make her appear guilty of some crime. People would
start to believe the crazy stories about her. She would be shunned
for the rest of her life. Master Edling was not there to tutor her,
she thought; he'd come only to see if she had grown horns or
sprouted wings. Her mood dropped from fear into anger then to
frustration. Her rage was building, seeking release, and it took
great effort not to lash out. She had committed no crime. She had
only tried to save her friend. As thanks, they would ruin her life,
and it made her want to scream.
    "Miss Volker?" Master Edling said,
interrupting her mental torment. "I think that will do for today,"
he said, giving her one of his most disgusted looks.