The Warded Man

Jizell laughed. “That’s why she wrote to me this time!”
    The laughter was infectious, and Leesha soon joined in. Leesha loved Jizell. She could be as hard as Bruna when the occasion demanded, but she was always quick to laugh.
    Leesha missed Bruna dearly, and the thought turned her back to the bundle. It was Fourthday, when the weekly Messenger arrived from Farmer’s Stump, Cutter’s Hollow, and points south. Sure enough, the hail of the first letter in the stack was in her father’s neat script.
    There was a letter from Vika, as well, and Leesha read that one first, her hands clenching as always until she was assured that Bruna, older than ancient, was still well.
    “Vika’s given birth,” she noted. “A boy, Jame. Six pounds eleven ounces.”
    “Is that the third?” Jizell asked.
    “Fourth,” Leesha said. Vika had married Child Jona—Tender Jona, now—not long after arriving in Cutter’s Hollow, and wasted no time in bearing him children.
    “Not much chance of her coming back to Angiers, then,” Jizell lamented.
    Leesha laughed. “I thought that was given after the first,” she said.
    It was hard to believe seven years had passed since she and Vika exchanged places. The temporary arrangement was proving permanent, which didn’t entirely displease Leesha.
    Regardless of what Leesha did, Vika would stay in Cutter’s Hollow, and seemed better liked there than Bruna, Leesha, and Darsy combined. The thought gave Leesha a sense of freedom she never dreamt existed. She’d promised to return one day to ensure the Hollow had the Gatherer it needed, but the Creator had seen to that for her. Her future was hers to choose.
    Her father wrote that he had caught a chill, but Vika was tending him, and he expected to recover quickly. The next letter was from Mairy; her eldest daughter already flowered and promised, Mairy would likely be a grandmother soon. Leesha sighed.
    There were two more letters in the bundle. Leesha corresponded with Mairy, Vika, and her father almost every week, but her mother wrote less often, and oftentimes in a fit of pique.
    “All well?” Jizell asked, glancing up from her own reading to see Leesha’s scowl.
    “Just my mum,” Leesha said, reading. “The tone changes with her humors, but the message stays the same: ‘Come homeand have children before you grow too old and the Creator takes the chance from you.’” Jizell grunted and shook her head.
    Tucked in with Elona’s letter was another sheet, supposedly from Gared, though the missive was in her mother’s hand, for Gared knew no letters. But whatever pains she took to make it seem dictated, Leesha was sure at least half the words were her mother’s alone, and most likely the other half as well. The content, as with her mother’s letters, never changed. Gared was well. Gared missed her. Gared was waiting for her. Gared loved her.
    “My mother must think me very stupid,” Leesha said wryly as she read, “to believe Gared would ever even attempt a poem, much less one that didn’t rhyme.”
    Jizell laughed, but it died prematurely when she saw that Leesha had not joined her.
    “What if she’s right?” Leesha asked suddenly. “Dark as it is to think Elona right about anything, I do want children one day, and you don’t need to be an Herb Gatherer to know that my days to do it are fewer ahead than behind. You said yourself I’ve wasted my best years.”
    “That was hardly what I said,” Jizell replied.
    “It’s true enough,” Leesha said sadly. “I’ve never bothered to look for men; they always had a way of finding me whether I wanted it or not. I just always thought one day I’d be found by one that fit into my life, rather than expecting me to fit into his.”
    “We all dream that sometimes, dear,” Jizell said, “and it’s a nice enough fantasy once in a while, when you’re staring at the wall, but you can’t hang your hopes on it.”
    Leesha squeezed the letter in her hand, crumpling it a bit.
    “So you’re thinking of going back and marrying this Gared?” Jizell asked.
    “Oh, Creator, no!” Leesha cried. “Of course not!”
    Jizell grunted. “Good. You’ve saved me the trouble of thumping you on the head.”
    “Much as my belly longs for a child,” Leesha said, “I’ll die a maid before I let Gared give me one. Problem is, he’d have at any other man in the Hollow that tried.”
    “Easily solved,” Jizell said. “Have children here.”
    “What?” Leesha