Lesson of the Fire by Eric Zawadzki Page B

as she
fussed with her apron.
    “I see him little enough already. He’s
always off adding a new town to the Protectorates or researching
some new spell. He’s so wrapped up in thinking about ways to help
everyone else, he forgets the simple stuff. I can’t remember the
last time he chopped wood or weeded our vegetable garden.”
    “I’d be happy to do those things while I’m
here.”
    “That’s not the point.”
    “If it bothers you, tell him.”
    “I’d have to find him.”
    “I guess that’s true,” Erbark conceded.
    “I don’t know what to do with the man,
Erbark.”
    The fire cracked and popped in the
silence.
    “Do you remember your wedding?” Erbark asked
suddenly. “Halfway through his hunting, he finally figured out how
to improve the defenses of the Protectorates using Blosin wands.
How long did you wait for him then?”
    “Six spans.” She
blushed. But he made it worth the
wait.
    * * *
    Erika had remained confident that despite
the six-span delay, Sven would return to fulfill his proposal to
her. Each day, more people told her she was wasting her time on
him, that he had abandoned her for some woman on the other side of
what was being called the Takraf Protectorates.
    But each day brought word of him, in its own
fashion. As Sven renewed the spells protecting the forty other
towns in his tiny duxy, people heard of his wedding. The Morden
Moors had become safe around Leiben, and many people were able to
attend the event. Mar trickled into Leiben by the day, each
bringing vegetables and a pot. It was the job of the groom to bring
the meat. Erika’s mother, Batha, collected every pot to cook the
wedding soup in.
    “Saw him headin’ to Erscht,” an old woman
told her. “Blesse’ is the day you’re wed.”
    “Took his time makin’ us extra safe, ‘cause
we’re on the border,” a man said, scratching his hair and checking
his fingernails, as if lice could live where Sven walked. “We’re on
the ... perry-me’er, he called us.”
    Through it all — the hustle and bustle of
preparation, the disparaging remarks and sideways glances — hope
burned in Erika.
    He will return for
me, she told herself. He is a good man, a man who doesn’t go back on his
word.
    When Sven finally returned to Leiben after
six spans of absence, it was all she could do not to throw herself
on him right there. She had to settle for a quiet handclasp, and
then she gasped with the rest of the crowd in attendance.
    Trailing along behind Sven, like slaves to a
master, were four piles of deer, rabbit and duck. They were
suspended on nothing.
    “Unload it,” Batha said quietly. Then,
louder, “Come on. We’ve seen him do it before.” To suit her words,
she grabbed two ducks by their necks and took them to the space
reserved for whatever the groom had managed to bring back.
    He is splendid, Erika thought, keeping her eyes downcast and her
hands busy on her shirt. But she sneaked glances at him. Look at what he can do.
    Then his eyes caught hers, and the smile on
his face was gorgeous.
    “Are you nervous?” he asked her. “Tonight
...”
    “Ah, Sven!” Erlend, Erika’s father, cried,
clapping him on the shoulder and neatly separating them. “Groom
can’t be stan’in’ aroun’, can he? C’mon, we’re to get firewood.”
Erbark joined Sven at the opposite shoulder with a smile for Erika,
and the three men left her there.
    But Sven’s words hung in
her mind. Tonight ... They would be wed. Erika set about her tasks, trying to make
time move faster.
    The meal could feed hundreds. The meat was
more than enough for the soup. Wild rice and roots, onions and
spices were added to make the blend plentiful. By rights, a
gathering this size should never have had enough food for more than
a bite for anyone, but whole cauldrons were still full when people
finished their seconds.
    Hundreds of people congratulated Sven and
Erika as they sat side by side in the center of it all, eating
their soup. She beamed back at them,