"I do not
believe you heard a single word I said, did you? I could give you
the same lesson on the morrow, and you would know no difference,"
he added in disgust. Catrin could not argue with him; she had not
even realized he had begun his lecture, but his attitude only
fueled her anger.
Master Edling stood and left without another
word, his robes billowing around him. Catrin doubted he would
return; he had seen what he had come to see. She was no monster or
evil murderer, just a rude farm girl who had ignored and insulted
him. His departure was bittersweet; while Catrin was not sorry to
see him go, his leaving was like the death knell for her
friendships. She wondered if she were destined to live as a hermit
because of one freak incident.
Her father came back into the cottage,
looking concerned. "Is your lesson over so quickly?" he asked.
"Master Edling barely spoke a word as he left." His movements made
it clear he was not pleased.
Catrin could not look him in the eye. She
stared at the floor, stifling her tears. "I'm so sorry, Father. I
was angry and confused, and I was thinking about everything and
what it all meant and--" Her voice cracked, and she knew she was
going to cry.
"Slow down, Cat. Don't get too upset on me.
Let's just talk about this," he said gently, and Catrin did her
best to steel herself and try to keep her emotions under
control.
"I don't think Master Edling believes I am a
worthy student."
"Are you?"
"No, sir, I don't think I am," she replied
sadly.
"Now, Cat, you must stop this. Master Edling
came here to help you, and you ignored him. He may never return. I
can't send you back to the public lessons. Even if I could convince
the council, it would be asking for trouble. Talk in town has grown
a bit wild of late. Nat Dersinger has convinced some people that
you are the Herald and that Istra will return to the skies of
Godsland soon," he said then stopped, fearing he had gone too far
and frightened his daughter.
"Now most sane people don't believe a word of
it, Cat. Everyone that knows you loves you. They know you as the
spirited young athlete who competes in the Summer Games and as the
hardworking girl that doesn't hesitate to help at a barn building.
Your friends and family won't give up on you just because something
unexplainable happened," he said, pulling up a chair. "I'm
disappointed in you for insulting Master Edling today, but I can
understand your distraction. I'll have a word with him on your
behalf. Your best hope is that he has it in him to forgive
you."
"Yes, sir," Catrin replied, looking
downcast.
"There's no sense dwelling on it; we'll just
have to see what tomorrow brings. For now, I want you to look after
a few more things around the farm."
* * *
In the darkness of the bakery attic, where
the heat was more than most could bear, Trinda watched, just as she
always did. Always careful to remain undetected, she watched and
waited, looking for anything that might please the dark men. It
seemed all her life had been lived in fear of the strange men who
came in the night, and here every waking hour was devoted to
keeping them pleased. As long as she gave them what they wanted,
they would never hurt her again. The memories still seared and
burned as if they were new. The dark men were coming again; she
could feel them getting closer.
When Miss Mariss walked out of the Watering
Hole, Trinda jumped and then chastised herself for her
carelessness. Of all the people she did not want to know about her
spying, it was Miss Mariss. The dark men always asked questions
about her; they always wanted to know whom she talked to and what
they talked about. Trinda had only some of the answers they wanted,
and it was all she could do to come up with enough information to
satisfy them.
Holding her breath, Trinda froze until Miss
Mariss was lost from view. She was, no doubt, coming to place her
order. Without the breads her father baked or the dough she used to
make her famous sausage breads,
believe you heard a single word I said, did you? I could give you
the same lesson on the morrow, and you would know no difference,"
he added in disgust. Catrin could not argue with him; she had not
even realized he had begun his lecture, but his attitude only
fueled her anger.
Master Edling stood and left without another
word, his robes billowing around him. Catrin doubted he would
return; he had seen what he had come to see. She was no monster or
evil murderer, just a rude farm girl who had ignored and insulted
him. His departure was bittersweet; while Catrin was not sorry to
see him go, his leaving was like the death knell for her
friendships. She wondered if she were destined to live as a hermit
because of one freak incident.
Her father came back into the cottage,
looking concerned. "Is your lesson over so quickly?" he asked.
"Master Edling barely spoke a word as he left." His movements made
it clear he was not pleased.
Catrin could not look him in the eye. She
stared at the floor, stifling her tears. "I'm so sorry, Father. I
was angry and confused, and I was thinking about everything and
what it all meant and--" Her voice cracked, and she knew she was
going to cry.
"Slow down, Cat. Don't get too upset on me.
Let's just talk about this," he said gently, and Catrin did her
best to steel herself and try to keep her emotions under
control.
"I don't think Master Edling believes I am a
worthy student."
"Are you?"
"No, sir, I don't think I am," she replied
sadly.
"Now, Cat, you must stop this. Master Edling
came here to help you, and you ignored him. He may never return. I
can't send you back to the public lessons. Even if I could convince
the council, it would be asking for trouble. Talk in town has grown
a bit wild of late. Nat Dersinger has convinced some people that
you are the Herald and that Istra will return to the skies of
Godsland soon," he said then stopped, fearing he had gone too far
and frightened his daughter.
"Now most sane people don't believe a word of
it, Cat. Everyone that knows you loves you. They know you as the
spirited young athlete who competes in the Summer Games and as the
hardworking girl that doesn't hesitate to help at a barn building.
Your friends and family won't give up on you just because something
unexplainable happened," he said, pulling up a chair. "I'm
disappointed in you for insulting Master Edling today, but I can
understand your distraction. I'll have a word with him on your
behalf. Your best hope is that he has it in him to forgive
you."
"Yes, sir," Catrin replied, looking
downcast.
"There's no sense dwelling on it; we'll just
have to see what tomorrow brings. For now, I want you to look after
a few more things around the farm."
* * *
In the darkness of the bakery attic, where
the heat was more than most could bear, Trinda watched, just as she
always did. Always careful to remain undetected, she watched and
waited, looking for anything that might please the dark men. It
seemed all her life had been lived in fear of the strange men who
came in the night, and here every waking hour was devoted to
keeping them pleased. As long as she gave them what they wanted,
they would never hurt her again. The memories still seared and
burned as if they were new. The dark men were coming again; she
could feel them getting closer.
When Miss Mariss walked out of the Watering
Hole, Trinda jumped and then chastised herself for her
carelessness. Of all the people she did not want to know about her
spying, it was Miss Mariss. The dark men always asked questions
about her; they always wanted to know whom she talked to and what
they talked about. Trinda had only some of the answers they wanted,
and it was all she could do to come up with enough information to
satisfy them.
Holding her breath, Trinda froze until Miss
Mariss was lost from view. She was, no doubt, coming to place her
order. Without the breads her father baked or the dough she used to
make her famous sausage breads,
Similar Books
