Uprooted - Naomi Novik Page 0,202

road as I walked away from the tower. I ran the rest of the way and found the handful of desperate defenders about to chop down the newly planted heart-tree.

They’d stayed behind to buy time for their families to escape, but they’d done it expecting to be taken, corrupted; they were wild-eyed and terrified even in their courage. I don’t think they would have listened to me if it hadn’t been for my ragged flapping clothes, my hair in snarls and blackened with soot, and my feet bare in the road: I couldn’t easily have been anything but a witch.

Even then, they weren’t quite sure whether to believe me when I told them the Wood had been defeated, defeated for good. None of us had imagined such a thing ever happening. But they’d seen the mantises and the walkers go fleeing suddenly back into the Wood, and they were all very tired by then. In the end they stood back and let me work. The tree hadn’t been even a day old: the walkers had bound the village headman and his three sons into it, to make it grow. I was able to bring the brothers out, but their father refused: a hot coal of pain had been burning slowly in his belly for a year.

“I can help you,” I’d offered, but the old man shook his head, his eyes half-dreaming already, smiling, and the hard knobs of his bones and body trapped beneath the bark melted away suddenly beneath my hands. The crooked heart-tree sighed and straightened up. It dropped all its poisonous blooms at once; new flowers budded on the branches instead.

We all stood together for a moment under the silver branches, breathing in their faint fragrance, nothing like the overwhelming rotten sweetness of the corrupt flowers. Then the defenders noticed what they were doing, shifted nervously and backed away. They were as afraid to accept the heart-tree’s peace as Sarkan and I had been, in the grove. None of us knew how to imagine something that came from the Wood and wasn’t evil and full of hate. The head-man’s sons looked at me helplessly. “Can’t you bring him out, too?” the eldest asked.

I had to tell them that there wasn’t anything to bring him out of, anymore; that the tree was him. I was too tired to explain very well, but anyway it wasn’t something people could easily understand, even people from the valley. The sons stood in baffled silence, confused whether to grieve or not. “He missed Mother,” the eldest said finally, and they all nodded.

None of the villagers felt easy about having a heart-tree growing on their bridge, but they trusted me enough at least that they’d left it standing. It had grown well since then: its roots were already twining themselves enthusiastically with the logs of the bridge, promising to take it over. It was laden with fruit and birds and squirrels. Not many people were ready to eat a heart-tree’s fruit yet, but the animals trusted their noses. I trusted mine, too: I picked a dozen more for my basket and went on, singing my way down the dusty long road to Dvernik.

Little Anton was out with his family’s flock, lazing on his back in the grass. He jumped up when I lurched into his field, a little nervously, but mostly everyone had gotten used to my appearing now and then. I might have been shy of going home at first, after everything that had happened, but I’d been so tired after that terrible day, tired and lonely and angry and sad all at once, the Wood-queen’s sorrow and my own all tangled up. After I finally finished clearing out Zatochek, almost without thinking my weary feet turned and took me home. My mother took one look at me in the doorway and didn’t say anything, just put me to bed. She sat beside me and stroked my hair, singing until I fell asleep.

Everyone was jumpy around me the next day when I came out to the village green to talk to Danka and tell her a little of what had happened, and to look in on Wensa, and on Jerzy and Krystyna. But I was still tired and in no mood to be considerate, so I just ignored the twitching, and after a while of my not setting anything on fire or turning into a beast, it stopped. I learned from the lesson to make people get used to me; now I

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