A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [131]
“What?” Glae snapped. “What happened to you?”
“Er, a muscle cramp, I guess.” He rubbed the spot gingerly—it still hurt, all right. “I’m sorry.”
“Humph, well, if that’s the way you’re going to be!”
But she was smiling as she turned away and ran off, heading for the farm. Although Maer waved goodbye, he was completely distracted. For a few moments he could see in a tangle of bushes nearby a small creature, as solid and distinct as she could be, with long blue hair and a face like a beautiful child, scowling at him in jealous rage. Suddenly she disappeared, leaving him wondering if he were going mad.
Yet he saw her again, the very next time he rode down into town in hopes of meeting Glaenara. Sure enough, he found Glae selling eggs and turnips in the market, but just as he was striking up a conversation, the blue-haired creature appeared, standing directly behind Glae and snarling like a jealous lover. Maer completely forgot himself.
“Now don’t you hurt her!”
“What?” Glae said. “Hurt who? The chicken?”
“My apologies. I wasn’t talking to you—I mean—oh, by the hells!”
Glae swiveled around to look behind her. Although Little Blue-hair, as he started calling her, stamped a foot and shook a small fist in Glae’s direction, it was obvious that the human lass saw nothing.
“Maer, you are daft! That’s the oldest prank in the world, making someone look and find naught there. And I must be a lackwit to fall for it.”
“Ah, er, sorry. Truly, I shouldn’t have … uh, well. Here, I’ve got to go, uh, er, run an errand, but I’ll be right back. Don’t leave without me.”
Leading his horse, Maer hurried off through the sparse crowd in the direction of the blacksmith’s shop, but he turned off before he got there and found a private spot behind the inn. Little Blue-hair appeared, sitting on his saddle and smirking at him. Although he felt more daft than ever, he waggled a finger at her.
“Now listen, you, you can’t go around pinching people and suchlike.”
She held up one hand and made a pinching motion with her thumb and forefinger.
“Like that, truly. Don’t do it again, especially not to other people.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“If you don’t behave, I’ll … I’ll … I’ll tell Nevyn the dweomerman on you.”
He made the threat only because he could think of none better—after all, Nevyn terrified him, didn’t he?—but it had all the force he could possibly have wanted. She leapt to her feet, opened her mouth in a soundless shriek, flung both hands into the air, and disappeared. For a moment Maer felt almost guilty; then he decided that she’d brought it on herself and hurried back to take up his courting in peace. For some weeks afterward, all the Wildfolk stayed far away from him, and he was glad of it.
“Now listen, Glae,” Nalyn snapped. “You know as well as I do that Doclyn’s a decent young man and a good hard worker. His father’s asking me for the smallest possible dowry that can stand up in a lord’s court. We won’t do better than that. Why won’t you marry him?”
Glaenara looked up from the bowl of dried beans she was sorting and simpered at him.
“He doesn’t please me.”
“Oh, my humble, humble apologies, my fine lady! It’s not looks that matter in a man.”
“Obviously, or Lida never would have married you.”
“Glae!” Myna spoke sharply from her chair by the fire. “Please don’t start things up again.”
Glae banged the bowl onto the table and stalked outside, sweeping her skirts around her as she hurried across the muddy farmyard. The bitter truth, she supposed, was that unless she married someone, she’d go on living here,