"The Hakens, wishing a feast, went to the village. They were of a mind for some roasted meat."

People fell to their knees, trembling with fear for the people they had come to know. Benches all over the room scuffed against the floor as most of the rest of the people in the room also went down on their knees. Fitch joined them.

"But it was a small village, as you know. After the Hakens slaughtered the livestock, they realized there wasn't enough meat. Hakens, being Hakens, didn't want for a solution for long.

"The children were seized."

Fitch wished for nothing so much as he wished for the lesson to be over. He didn't know if he could bear to hear any more. Apparently, some of the women were of the same mind. They collapsed to their faces on the floor, hands clasped, as they wept and prayed to the good spirits to watch over those poor, innocent, slain Ander people.

"You all know the names of those children. We will now go around the room and you will each give me one of the names you have learned, lest we forget those young lives so painfully taken. You will each give me the name of one of the children from that village-little girls and little boys-who were roasted alive in front of their mothers."

Master Spink started at the last row. Each person in turn, as he pointed to them, spoke the name of one of those children, most beseeching after it that the good spirits watch over them. Before they were allowed to leave, Master Spink described the horror of being burned alive, the screams, the pain, and how long it took for the children to die. How long it took for their bodies to cook.

It was so grisly and sinister a deed that at one point, for just the briefest moment, Fitch considered for perhaps the first time whether the story could really be true. He had trouble imagining anyone, even the brutal Haken overlords, doing such a horrific thing.

But Master Spink was Ander. He wouldn't lie to them. Not about something as important as history.

"Since it's getting late," Master Spink said, after everyone had given a child's name, "we will leave until next assembly the story of what the Haken invaders did to those women. The children, perhaps, were lucky not to have to see their mothers used for such perversions as the Hakens did to them."

Fitch, along with the rest of the assembly behind him, burst through the doors when they were dismissed, glad to escape, for the night, the penance lesson. He had never been so glad for the cool night air. He felt hot and sick as the images of such a death as those children suffered kept going through his head. The cool air, at least, felt good on his face. He pulled the cool purging air into his lungs.

As he was leaning against a slender maple tree beside the path to the road, waiting for his legs to steady, Beata came out the door. Fitch straightened. There was enough light coming from the open door and the windows so she would have no trouble seeing him-seeing him in his new messenger's outfit. He was hoping Beata would find it more appealing than did Master Spink, "Good evening, Beata."

She halted. She glanced down the length of him, taking in his clothes.

"Fitch."

"You look lovely this evening, Beata."

"I look the same as always." She planted her fists on her hips. "I see you've fallen in love with yourself in a fancy uniform."

Fitch suddenly lost his ability to think or speak. He had always liked the way the messengers looked in their uniforms, and had thought she would, too. He had been hoping to see her smile, or something. Instead, she glared at him. Now he wished more than anything he had just gone home straightaway.

"Master Dalton offered me a position-"

"And I suppose you'll be looking forward to next penance assembly so you can hear about what those Haken beasts in their fancy uniforms did to those helpless women." She leaned toward him. "You'll like that. It will be almost as much fun for you as if you were there watching."

Fitch stood with his jaw hanging as she huffed and stormed off into the night.

Other people walking down the street saw the tongue-lashing she had given him, a filthy Haken. They smiled in satisfaction, or simply laughed at him. Fitch stuffed his hands in his pockets as he turned his back to the road and leaned a shoulder against the tree. He brooded as he waited for everyone to move along on their own business.

It was an hour's walk back to the estate. He wanted to be sure those returning there had gone on so he could walk alone and not have to talk to anyone. He considered going and buying himself some drink. He still had some money left. If not, he would go back and find Morley, and they would both get some drink. Either way, getting drunk sounded good to him.

The breeze abruptly felt cooler. It ran a shiver up his spine.

He almost leaped out of his boots when a hand settled on his shoulder. He spun and saw it was an older Ander woman. Her swept-back, nearly shoulder-length hair told him she was someone important. Streaks of gray at the temples told him she was old; there wasn't enough light to see exactly how wrinkled she was, but he could still tell she was.

Fitch bowed to the Ander woman. He feared she might want to take up where Beata had left off, and take him to task for something or other.

"Is she someone you care about?" the woman asked.

Fitch was taken off guard by the curious question. "I don't know," he stammered.

"She was pretty rough with you."

"I deserved it, ma'am."

"Why is that?"

Fitch shrugged. "I don't know."

He couldn't figure out what the woman wanted. It gave him gooseflesh the way her dark eyes studied him, like she was picking out a chicken for dinner.

She wore a simple dress that in the dim light looked like it might be a dark brown. It buttoned to her neck, unlike the more revealing fashion most Ander women wore. Her dress didn't mark her as a noble woman, but that long hair said she was someone important.

She seemed somehow different from other Ander women. There was one thing about her that Fitch did think odd: she wore a wide black band tight around her throat, up close at the top of her neck.

"Sometimes girls say mean things when they're afraid to admit they like a boy, fearing he won't like her."

"And sometimes they say mean things because they intend them."

"True enough." She smiled. "Does she live at the estate, or here in Fair-field?"

"Here in Fairfield. She works for Inger the butcher."

She seemed to think that was a little bit funny. "Perhaps she is used to more meat on the bones. Maybe when you get a little older and fill yourself in more she will find you more appealing."

Fitch stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "Maybe."

He didn't believe it. Besides, he didn't figure he would ever fill in, as she put it. He figured he was old enough that he was about how he would be.

She went back to studying his face for a time.

"Do you want her to like you?" she asked at last.

Fitch cleared his throat. "Well, sometimes, I guess. At least, I'd like her not to hate me."

The woman had one of those smiles like she was well pleased with something, but he doubted he'd ever understand it.

"It could be arranged."

"Ma'am?"

"If you like her, and would like her to like you, it could be arranged.”

Fitch blinked in astonishment. "How?"

"A little something slipped into what she drinks, or eats."

Understanding came over him all at once. This was a woman of magic. At last he understood why she seemed so strange. He'd heard people with magic were strange.

"You mean you could make something up? Some spell or something?"

Her smile grew. "Or something."

"I just started working for Master Campbell. I'm sorry, ma'am, but I couldn't afford it."

"Ah, I see." Her smile shrank back down. "And if you could afford it?"