The Hob's Bargain(58)

"Does spring not come from winter? And winter is the season of the dead," murmured the hob.

"Be silent, servant of the mountain. Do not seek to twist my thoughts with your trickery." There was menace in the guardian's fierce glare.

"My lord," I said, aspiring to twist his thoughts with my trickery, "I tell you we were taught it was so - by those who should know better. This spring the bindings were torn from the land, and our world is reawakening into something that we no longer have means to comprehend. We have no memories to guide us, only the vague shadows of stories that have changed with the centuries. If we have offended you, hurt you, it is out of ignorance, not intention. We are willing to learn." I felt a strong urge to cross my fingers against the lie of the last sentence, as if I were a child speaking to her parents. It startled me when I realized that, other than the last sentence, I'd told the earth spirit nothing less than the truth. "We must learn - and we need you to teach us. We don't have the songs anymore." Still true.

"I care not what songs they sing," he replied harshly, but the fierce glow of his eyes faded. "Only that they are sung for the rebirth of spring, the promise of summer, the bounty of harvest, and the death that is winter."

Four ceremonies. Holy mares of the One God, how could I get four pagan ceremonies out of the village? Everyone knew how jealous the One God was of His worshipers. There wouldn't be many willing to risk angering Him in this time of need - especially when it was me telling them they had to. Caefawn would have a better chance. Let him try to explain to the villagers the difference between giving thanks and worshiping.

"Summer solstice is past," commented the hob.

"There will be no autumn harvest," said the spirit ominously. He waved his hand, and the plants around us began to wilt and die.

I fervently wished the hob would be quiet. He seemed only to irritate the spirit.

"Stay your hand," I said. Then, remembering I was here as a supplicant, I added, "Please. This will do you no more good that it does us. Where will your songs be if the land dies around you? You are the guardian of this land, not its destroyer." I hoped that was true. "Two weeks from tonight we will have a celebration here - beside this tree. A celebration of the reawakening of the land, of freedom from the yoke of the bloodmages, a welcoming feast."

How I was going to pull it off, I didn't know. Maybe the priest would be able to help - if he didn't burn me as a heretic first.

"A feast," said the spirit, obviously experiencing one of his mercurial mood changes. "A feast!" He bounded to his feet. "I will stay my hand for a fortnight. After the singing and dancing are over, I will reconsider."

He didn't walk away so much as blend in with the plants of the field. Caefawn stood up and offered me his arm. I took it and began the long walk home.

"So," I said, some hours later, "You can see wee have a problem."

I sat in the private dining room at the inn. With me were Kith, his father - who was recovering from his wounds - and Tolleck the priest.

Tolleck groaned and held his head. "My dear, this is impossible! The village is already divided to the breaking point over the changes we've been forced to make. If I tell them we have to hold a feast to appease an earth elemental, they will likely burn me just before they do the same to you."

"Could you pronounce another reason for a feast?" asked Albrin. "I think the harper could be trusted to write songs that praise the earth without letting it slip that the earth is a real creature."

I shook my head. "I think he's going to be there. It's a little hard to hide a man with antlers and hooves. Someone is sure to notice him."

Tolleck laughed, but no one else did.

"The problem is belief," said Kith. "People will do amazing things to ensure their survival. But the villagers cannot conceive of a creature powerful enough to destroy all the crops."

"I don't really think a demonstration is in order," I said dryly. "It'd be like one of the serfs approaching Lord Moresh and saying, 'Excuse me, but I don't think any of the rest of the serfs believe you have the power to cut off my head. "

"I'll seek answers from the temple," said Tolleck, rising to his feet. "Perhaps something will come to me. You were right to talk to me first. Give me a day or two to think about it before you do anything."

I rose when he did, and shook his hand. "Thank you." I hope he knew I was thanking him for his support as well as for coming here.

Tolleck started toward the door but stopped before he reached it. "You'd probably better let Merewich know about this. He's been running the village longer than I've been alive. If anyone might have an idea about how to get them to... celebrate the earth, it would be Merewich."

I found Merewich eating cold oatmeal in the kitchen of his home. He was alone except for his wife, who rocked in the chair before the small kitchen fire.

Creak back, creak forth, sigh. Creak back, creak forth, sigh. I was there for only a few minutes and it was enough to make me creak along with her.

"Two steps forward, one step back," sighed Merewich after he'd heard me out. He sighed at the same time his wife did. "You've already talked to Tolleck?"

"Hmm." I watched him eat the unappetizing gray stuff and noticed it was almost the same color as his skin. He needed a rest - perhaps Melly could send over one of the former serfs (whom she'd taken over like a hen with chicks). "I thought he might be the best one to decide if... well, if the ceremony might bring the wrath of the One God down upon our village."