EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (125 page)

Somehow she had managed to burn everything.

Chapter XXIII

Gala

A
FTER
THE
MEAL
,
A
CHANGE
of clothing, and numerous instructions on how to appear more like a commoner, Gala was finally on her way to see the rest of the village.

Walking through the streets, she studied the small, cheerful-looking houses and stared at the peasants passing by—who stared right back at her. “Why are they looking at me?” she whispered to Maya after two men almost fell off a horse trying to get a good look at her. “Is it because I look strange and different?”

“Oh, you look different, all right.” Maya chuckled. “Even in that plain dress, you’re probably the prettiest woman they have ever seen. If you didn’t want to be gawked at, we should’ve put a potato sack over your head.”

“I don’t think I would like that,” Gala said absentmindedly, noticing a large gathering up ahead. Stopping, she pointed at the crowd. “What is that?”

“Looks like the court is meeting for judgment,” said the old woman, frowning. She was about to turn away and walk in another direction, but Gala headed toward the gathering and the two women had no choice but to tag along.

“Um, Gala, I don’t think that’s the best place for you,” Esther said, huffing and puffing to keep up with Gala’s brisk pace.

Gala shot her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Esther, but I really want to see this.” She had read a little bit about laws and justice, and she had no intention of passing up this opportunity.

Before her escorts had a chance to voice another objection, Gala walked straight into the gathering, which seemed to be taking place in a miniature version of the Town Square she’d seen in Turingrad.

There was a platform in the middle of the square, and a few people were standing on it. Two bigger men were holding a smaller one, who appeared quite young to Gala’s inexperienced eye. The youngster looked like he wanted to run away, the expression on his round-cheeked face that of fear and distress. Near the platform, Gala could see a group of similar-looking people—a family, she guessed. They looked angry for some reason.
 

A white-haired older man, who was standing on the platform, began to speak. “You are accused of horse theft,” he said, addressing the lad, and Gala could hear the disapproving murmuring in the crowd. Even Maya and Esther shook their heads, as though chiding the young horse thief. “What have you to say to this charge?” the white-haired man continued, his dark eyes prominent in his weathered face.
 

“I am sorry,” the young man said, his voice shaking. “I will never to do it again, I promise. I didn’t mean any harm—I just wanted to have some fun . . .”
 

The white-haired man sighed. “Do you know what they do to horse thieves in other territories?” he asked.

The lad shook his head.

“They hang them in the north, and they chop their heads off in the east,” the old man said, giving the youngster a stern look.

The horse thief visibly paled. “I’m sorry! I truly didn’t mean it—”

“Luckily for you, we do things differently here,” the old man interrupted, cutting off the lad’s pleas. “Master Blaise does not believe in that kind of punishment. Because you admitted your guilt and because the horse was returned to its rightful owners, your punishment is to work on the farm of the people you stole from for the next six months. During that time, you will help them in any way you can. You will clean their stables, repair their house, bring them water from the well, and perform whatever other tasks you are capable of doing.”

A middle-aged man from the family Gala had noticed before stepped forward, addressing the white-haired man. “Mayor, with all due respect, our children would have starved without that horse, with the drought and all—”

The mayor held up his hand, stopping the man’s diatribe. “Indeed. However, fortunately for you and for the accused, you got your horse back safe and sound, didn’t you?”
 

“Yes, Mayor,” the man admitted sheepishly.

“In that case, the thief will make up for his crime by helping out at your farm. Hopefully, this will teach him the value of hard work.”
 

The middle-aged man still looked unhappy, but it was obvious that he had no choice. This was the punishment for the horse thief, and he had to accept it.

“And with that,” the mayor announced, “the court is over for today. You can all go forth and enjoy the fair.”
 

“The fair?” Gala asked, curious about the sudden wave of excitement in the crowd.
 

“Oh yes,” a young woman to her right replied. “Didn’t you hear? We’ve got the spring fair starting today. It’s right on the other side of the village.” And with that, she flounced off, apparently eager to get to this event.
 

Gala grinned. The girl’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Let’s go,” she told Maya and Esther, starting to walk in the direction where she saw most people heading.
 

“What? Wait, Gala, let’s discuss this . . .” Maya hurried after her, looking anxious.

“What is there to discuss?” Gala continued walking, feeling like she would burst from excitement. “Didn’t you hear what that woman said? I’m going to this fair!”

“This is not a good idea,” Esther muttered under her breath. “I’m pretty sure this is not what Blaise meant when he said to make sure she doesn’t draw any attention to herself. Her at the fair—she’s going to get attention galore!”

“Yes, well, how do you intend to stop her?” Maya muttered back, and Gala smiled at their exchange. She liked having the freedom to do what she wanted, and she intended to see and experience as much of this village as she could.

The fair was as amazing as Gala had thought it might be. There were merchants all over the place, their colorful stalls displaying various goods and interesting-looking food products. Right beside them, there were games and attractions, and Gala could hear laughter, loud voices, and music everywhere. In the center of the fair, there was a big platform where she could see young people dancing.

Gala approached a merchant closest to her. “What are you selling?” she asked him.

“I have the best dried fruit at the fair, for you or your mother and aunt.” He smiled widely, offering Gala a handful of raisins.
 

She took a couple and put them in her mouth, enjoying the burst of sweet flavor on her tongue. Esther took out a small coin and gave it to the merchant, thanking him, and they continued on their way.
 

“Ale for the ladies?” a man yelled out from one of the stalls. There were huge barrels stacked on each side of him, and Gala wondered if they contained this ale he was offering.
 

“I will get some,” she said, curious to try the drink she’d read about.

“No, you won’t,” Esther said immediately, frowning. “I don’t want you drunk on your very first day with us.”

“Oh, come on, let the lass have some fun,” the ale merchant cajoled. “She won’t feel more than a little buzz from just one drink.”

“All right, fine,” Maya grumbled, handing a coin to the man. “Just one drink.”
 

Gala grinned. She would’ve tried this ale regardless, but she was glad she didn’t have to argue with the two women.
 

Looking satisfied, the merchant took a mug, walked over to the pile of barrels, and started pouring from one of them into the mug. Gala noticed the way the barrels shook with the man’s movements, as though swaying in the wind.

“Hurry up,” a male voice said behind Gala. Turning around, she saw a young, well-built man standing there. As soon as he saw Gala’s face, his eyes widened, and his cheeks turned red. He mumbled an apology, his gaze traveling from the top of her head all the way down to her toes.

Gala gave him a small smile and turned around to look at the merchant again. She was getting used to these stares.
 

The merchant handed her the mug, and she took a sip, swirling the drink around her mouth to better taste it. It wasn’t nearly as delicious as the raisins, but it did send a warm feeling down her body. Liking the sensation, Gala downed the mug in several large gulps and heard chuckles from the men standing in line behind her.

“You should pace yourself,” Maya admonished, and Esther gave Gala another frown.

“I’ve never had ale before,” Gala tried to explain, not wanting the two women to worry. “I think I like it even better than your stew.” Turning to the merchant, she asked, “Can I have another one?”

At this, Maya grabbed Gala’s hand and dragged her away from the confused ale merchant and his customers. Gala let herself be led only as far as the next stall and then stood her ground firmly.
 

“You are strong for one so small,” Maya said, looking impressed when Gala resisted her tugging. “It’s as though she grew roots,” she told Esther. “I can’t make her move another inch.”

“This is just a clown stall,” Esther told Gala, sounding exasperated. “There is nothing for you to see here.”

Gala didn’t agree. To her, the stall was fascinating, surrounded as it was by dozens of children. Children—these miniature humans—were an enigma to Gala. She had never been a child herself, unless one counted her brief stage of development in the Spell Realm. Then again, she reasoned, perhaps she was like a child now compared to the person she would become.
 

Another thing that interested her was the man with the painted face. He was wearing strange-looking clothing and doing what seemed like sorcery for the children—pulling out coins from their ears and then making those coins disappear. He also seemed to be doing it without any kind of verbal or written spells. When she focused on his hands, however, she saw that he was actually hiding the coins in his palm. A fake sorcerer, she thought, watching his antics with amusement.
 

Suddenly, there was a loud shout. Startled, Gala looked back toward the ale merchant’s stall, where she heard the sound coming from.

What she saw made her freeze in place.
 

One of the older children had pushed a younger girl into the stack of barrels at the ale merchant’s stall. The large barrels swayed perilously, and Gala could see the top barrel beginning to fall.
 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. In Gala’s mind, she saw the chain of events exactly as they would play out. The barrel would fall on top of the girl, crushing her frail human body. Gala could even calculate the precise weight and force of the falling object—and the child’s odds of survival.
 

The young girl would cease to exist before she’d had a chance to enjoy living.

No
. Gala couldn’t stand to see that. Her entire body tensed, and without conscious thought, she raised her hands in the air, pointing them at the barrel. Her mind ran through the necessary calculations with lightning speed, figuring out the exact amount of reverse force necessary to hold the falling object in place.

The barrel stopped falling, floating in the air a few inches above the girl’s head.

The silence was deafening. All around Gala, the fairgoers stood as though frozen in place, staring at the near-accident in morbid fascination. The ale merchant recovered first, jumping toward the shocked child to pull her away from under the barrel.
 

As soon as the girl was not in danger, Gala felt her focus slipping, and the barrel fell, breaking into little bits of wood and splashing ale all over the place.

The rescued child began to cry, her small frame shaking with sobs, while the spectators seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Many of them were staring at Gala with awed expressions on their faces, and one woman took a step toward her, addressing her in a quivering voice, “Are you a sorceress, my lady?”

“She had nothing to do with that; it was the clown,” Maya told the woman, lying unconvincingly.
 

Esther grabbed Gala’s hand. “Let’s go,” she said urgently, dragging Gala away from the crowd.

Gala did not resist, following the old woman docilely. Her mind was in turmoil. She had done it. She had done direct magic, as Blaise had designed her to do. It hadn’t been a spell—certainly she hadn’t said or written anything. Instead, it was as though something deep inside her knew exactly what to do, how to let some hidden part of her mind take over. All she’d known was that she didn’t want the child hurt, and the rest had seemed to just . . . happen.

When they were sufficiently far away from the crowd, she stopped, refusing to go any further. “Wait,” she told Maya and Esther, bending down to pick up a small pebble lying on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Esther hissed. “You just drew a lot of attention to yourself!”

“Just wait, please.” This was too important to Gala. Throwing the pebble in the air, she focused on it, trying to replicate her actions from before.
Don’t fall, don’t fall
,
don’t fall
, she mentally chanted, staring at the pebble.

The little rock didn’t react in any way, falling to the ground in a completely normal fashion.