John Ringo - There Will Be Dragons

“No thanks,” he said with a wink. “Sixteen’s my limit.”

He did grab a bowl of cornmeal mush — he didn’t know what he’d do without a bowl of mush in the morning — another piece of the bread, and butter and jam for the mush. He took his heavily loaded tray over to one of the tables and sat down, looking out the open sides of the mess hall. More people were moving around but like the night before there wasn’t any focus. Groups were gathering along the stream, talking, occasionally arguing. Looking around at all the people, he realized all the people he didn’t know in the town. There must have been at least two or three thousand who had gathered to the town and he probably only knew fifteen or twenty of them. It was strange to feel alone with so many people around him. He also realized how… diverse and yet curiously constrained his life had been before the Fall.

He had never attended the Faires, and the largest gatherings he had ever been at before were parties like Marguerite’s. His illness had tended to make him avoid groups where he didn’t know the people and as it progressed he had become more and more of a loner. Right now he probably had more friends, counting some of the members of the class as friends, than he ever had in his life. And was around more people in one area than he had ever seen.

He thought about trying to run Mike and Courtney down or one of the other members of the class but he didn’t have any idea how. The two of them had wandered off the night before to try to find someplace they could doss together rather than in the segregated dormitories and at this point they could be anywhere in the town. He considered going up to the baths. He could probably strike up a conversation there. But he reconsidered when he thought about his dwindling money supply. It was oddly depressing to realize how limiting it was to have an unavailability of funds. He’d been given two meal chits “over and above” his three squares a day. It was already so late in the day that it would be worth it to skip lunch, thus giving him that much more disposable funds. So that would give him three chits over and above food. He’d used a tenth for the bath and another tenth to have his clothes cleaned. A tenth for the singer and a quarter for the pouch. It seemed a lot for a little piece of sewn leather, but on the other hand he’d talked the vendor down from a half. He wasn’t exactly burning through his money but there was tonight and tomorrow to think about. There was also next week; there was no guarantee that he’d get another bonus. When he got out of the apprenticeship program, whether he joined the guard or found another use for his skills, it would be good to have a little start-up money. So he intended to be very conservative.

While he was contemplating his money situation, his eyes unseeingly scanning the crowd outside the building, the server he had been talking to came over and plopped down on the bench across from him, breaking the view and bringing him back to the present with a jolt.

She fanned her hand theatrically at her face and sighed, smiling at him as she did so.

“Been working hard?” Herzer asked, stirring the last of the mush in his bowl.

“Ah! You missed it, it was a madhouse in here!” she said, waving at her face again although there was no apparent sweat. “But, I’ve got this afternoon and all of tomorrow off for working this morning. Morgen Kirby,” she continued, extending her hand across the table.

“Herzer Herrick,” Herzer replied, taking the hand. It was delightfully warm.

“ Her zer Her rick,” she said, rolling the sound on her tongue. “Her-zer Herrick! It’s got a delightfully masculine sound to it!”

“Well you’re the first person who ever said that.” Herzer laughed, shaking his head.

“So what do you do for your meal chits, Herzer Herrick?”

“I’m in the apprenticeship program,” he said, spooning up the last of the meal. The majority of the mob had apparently drifted off and they were close enough to the stream for the sound of chuckling water to reach them along with a pleasantly cool breeze. Herzer was pretty sure he could go on sitting here forever, especially if it meant not having to cut any more trees. And he really didn’t even want to think about going back to work.

“Maybe I should go over there,” she replied. “I am not going to stay working in a kitchen for the rest of my life. Will you look at these hands,” she added, holding up the appendages in question.

Herzer’s first thought was that they were quite shapely and altogether pleasant. But he was pretty sure she was referring to the fact that they were somewhat red and chapped. So saying “they look pretty good to me” was probably out.

“If I never wash another bowl in my life it will be too soon,” she said, shaking her head.

Something, something … Herzer wracked his brains for a moment. Which plant was it? Bast had said something on their walk… It had broad leaves… and a purple flowerhead if he remembered correctly.

“I might know something that would help with that,” he said, turning one of her hands over and running a finger across the palm, at which Morgen gave a delightful twitch.

“Really,” she asked huskily then cleared her throat. “We had some oil that I rubbed on them, but it didn’t help much.”

“Well, I don’t think it will cure anything permanently, ” Herzer pointed out thoughtfully. “But it should help some . It’s a plant… and it will take some searching to find it…”

“Where?”

“Out in the woods, along streambeds where it’s dark and moist. I’ll have to get up on the hills and out of the cleared areas.”

“Out in the woods?” she asked dubiously, surprise evident on her face.

“Yeah,” Herzer replied, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well… people don’t go in the woods much these days. You know there are wild animals out there?”

“Yes.”

“There are tigers and leopards and mountain lions?”

Herzer thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

“Haven’t been eaten yet.”

“Oh.” Pause. “Well when are you planning on going?”

“I don’t have anything better to do. I’ll probably go now.”

“Well, if you wait until we’re done with the breakfast dishes, I could come along.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being eaten?” Herzer asked, then hastily added: “By a tiger?”

“Not if I’m with you,” she replied.

“Well… I’ll be back in a little bit.”

She smiled and picked up his tray, carrying it back over to the serving area with a decided sway to her hips.

Okay, Herzer thought. What is it about the end of the world?

When Herzer walked back into town in the late afternoon his basket was half filled with slightly damp fur rug; the other half was filled with spring greens. He had found a large patch of asparagus as well as enough sweet leaf greens for a large salad. He had also found a patch of kudzi that had colonized a rock slip, and by the pool of water at the base of the rock slip they had invented numerous fascinating things that you could do with kudzi juice.

When they got back to town they could see that much of the town was deserted. Most of the people had gathered around the former Faire area near the line of hills north of town.

“Come on,” Morgen said, taking his hand. “They’ve started the dancing.”

“Oh.” Pause. “Good.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” she said with a laugh. “All you have to do is move your feet!”

One end of the field had been roped off and a stage set up. On it a group of minstrels, including the redheaded minstrel Herzer had seen the night before, were now belting out a fast jig. There was a large group of people dancing but most of the people in the area were gathered in small groups watching and talking. There were some logs left from clearing the area and a few trestle tables. But most of the people sat on the ground or the occasional uncleared stump. Herzer and Morgen, hand in hand, wandered into the crowd looking for a place to sit or, for that matter, anyone they knew. Morgen, not too surprisingly, was the first to spot an acquaintance. She waved to two women who were standing side by side, their arms folded, and dragged Herzer over to meet them.