Mara

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Bloody Fingers: Book of Prologues- Chapter Seven

Mara Reedfellow looked out over her tavern hall and smiled. Her eyes moved around the large room, filled with both locals and sailors from the harbor. She paused a little longer over her regulars and found them happily drinking, eating, and playing in small groups. But she also saw those various groups acknowledge and interact with each other- the conversations blending into a buzzing harmony. She slowly wiped down the oaken bar with a soaped cloth- at least the small part within her reach. A smile again overtook her full lips as a very large man with a milk mustache lifted his horn cup towards her in a small salute, and she sank into a warm memory….

***

Just five seasons past, she had limped into the tiny village of MidWay Harbor with a borrowed goat the size of a small horse, easily pulling a small cart. Inside that cart was a small sack of clothes, which also hid a pouch of dried meats, berries, and cacao beans. There was a large bundle of grasses and branches tied with vines. There was a wooden bucket with six crafted goat horn cups. And there was a corked wooden cask, with the word “Mara-rete” painted along the side in neat script.

The cart also contained her single most prized possession, hidden deep inside the tied bundle of grasses: her four ceramic distilling pots. One thick round firepot, blackened along the edges, which had small holes at the top and bottom so the fire could breathe. One large pitcher which fit tightly on top of the firepot and had two slender ceramic tubes curving down like willow branches. The tubes circled back up at the very end, creating a small hook. There were also two small ceramic cups designed to hang from the hooks with leather straps. You could open the pitcher at the top to stir in the root mash, and the baker’s bubbles. She kept the yeast warm in a waxed leather pouch that hung between her breasts.

She stopped her cart near the village center, stretched a cloth for shade, and then went to fill her bucket from the shared well. That process drew attention, as she struggled to clamber up the wellhead and straddle the block wall. She then pulled up the roped bucket and poured that liquid down to her own bucket on the ground. She did well. Only a small amount of water was wasted from the splash. She twisted and then jumped down, landing easily. She knelt by her bucket and scooped a few handfuls of water for herself, before carrying the bucket over to the large thirsty goat. She then pulled some of the grass and branches free and lay those near the goat as well.

As the goat ate, Mara’s strong hands massaged up and down the animal’s legs and then moved to the full udders. She gently pulled milk into the horned cups, filling them about halfway with the thick liquid. She stabbed the horn into the ground to hold it in place, the movement causing small clumps of cream to rise to the top. She then used one of the small ceramic cups to draw the clear liquor from the cask, adding that on top of the goat’s milk until all six horns were about three quarters full. Finally, she pulled two of the cacao beans from the pouch and reached into her belt for a small metal rasp- grinding the beans into a rough powder which she sprinkled onto a thin foam that had formed at the top of the drinks.

A small group of people had formed around Mara, watching the performance as the strange halfling created her drinks. She picked up one of the cups and held it out to the largest man in the bunch- a very tall dark-skinned man with powerful arms and shoulders.

“One silver if it pleases you.” She looked almost straight up to meet the large man’s gaze. 

“Heavy price.” His brown eyes held hers as his lips curved upward into an apologetic smile. 

“Can’t argue… The man knows heavy…” Mara smiled back, her joke winning a few chuckles from the crowd, and a bigger smile from the big man himself. “One silver for me if it pleases you. You’ll get a kiss if it doesn’t.” Mara’s eyes squinted a bit, but this time not with humor. She was daring the big man.

He shook his head, embarrassed at himself for being bullied by this tiny woman, but accepting his lot with good nature. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the prospect of kissing a woman who only rose to his waist, even one as beautiful and bountiful as this halfling- but she had been the one to push him into this corner. He reached down for the drink. The horn cup looked huge in her grip but seemed tiny in his. He chuckled silently to himself again and brought the horn to his lips. The warm liquid was thick and sweet. The small clumps of cream gave the drink the same texture as just clotting blood. And then the liquor began to burn in his throat. Almost immediately the fresh milk smothered the fire and smoothed the drink into a fusion of sweet, hot, creamy, deliciousness that literally took his breath. And the finish was a rich, sweet, earthy taste that lingered in his mouth. His eyes widened, and it took a few seconds to get his wind back.

“What?” He finally forced a word out, looking at the cup in his hand and then down into the face of this strange woman.

“It’s a Mara-rete” Her cheeks blushed as her smile took over her face. She stretched her arm up again and winked at the big man. 

His smile now showed his teeth as he dropped not one, but two silver pieces into her tiny palm. “Please.. Another?” 

She handed him another horn and he backed up to sit on one of the benches near the well, alternating sips between the horns in each hand- totally oblivious to the foamy mustache that formed under his nose.

“I’ll take one, miss!” … 

“Aye, I’ll have one too!” …

The crowd around Mara grew as the villagers and the visiting sailors queued for their turn at a drink. It was slow going, as she only had the six horned cups and so had to keep yelling at her customers to finish their drinks and bring the horns back to be filled again. But the people were good natured, and laughter spread easily. Eventually, however, the giant goat was milked dry- leaving plenty of customers still thirsty. But the strong liquor and sweet milk had everyone smiling. The big man of few words went into the butcher shop and then returned with a small ivory flute. He began to play, and soon two other villagers brought out small hand drums to beat a rhythm for him. Two of the women in town began to vocalize together- no recognizable words just sounds that blended together beautifully. Mara realized the village must do this often for the ensemble to harmonize together so easily. It was peaceful. It was endearing. The people of MidWay Harbor danced and sang together, as the night turned warm and fuzzy. Mara smiled… and she laughed… and she felt at home in the happiness.

***

“I’ll take one, miss!” The deeply tanned sailor brought Mara back up from her reverie, by pointing at a cask of honeyed mead. She smiled at him as he placed a coin onto the bar. She hopped down from the thin shelf she’d been standing on and grabbed a horned cup from the low rack behind her. There were a hundred and fifty of these cups now, all cut and crafted with a flat pewter base at the bottom adorned with an engraved stamp showing a small wagon and barrel. She climbed back up on the lifting shelf to reach the requested cask and pulled the tap to pour. The trickle of mead slowed and stopped, only filling the horn about half full. The statuesque halfling climbed the series of small lifting shelves to step up onto the bar with one arm until she was standing fully on the oaken top. She held the cup out above her head and shouted out into the tavern.

“A moment of silence, please.” Most of the crowd turned towards Mara, smiles already appearing on many faces. “A moment of remembrance for Caskcandra. She kissed your lips. She honeyed your soul. She gave you laughter, and perhaps she helped you find a little love in the night.” A few whistles from the crowd came in at this point. “But she has now given her all. And this man….” Mara pointed over at the tanned sailor. “This man shall be the one who enjoys her last embrace.”

She handed him the half-filled horned cup. Her eyes widened and her brows lifted, telling him without words what he should do now. The sailor held forth the cup, tilted his head slightly back and closed his eyes- and then killed the cup without stopping. The cheers rose from the crowd, and they rushed forward, lifting the sailor above them and then dancing around the room in a slow circle. The bard in the corner started drumming the rhythm to a sailor chant and the crowd sang together as they lifted their hero in all his glory!

Skye, the young woman working the tavern floor tonight, walked up to the bar as Mara tossed the sailor’s coin into the bucket behind the bar. “They never realize you short them on their drink”. Skye laughed as she watched the smiling and singing sailor reach the far end of the room.

“It’s not just about the drink, Skye- it’s the experience! I’ve told you that before. He’ll be telling stories about this night for years to come as he travels the blue.” Mara winked at her. “And the sailors he tells will all come to the Milk Wagon the next time they touch land at MidWay Harbor!”

“Now, two things…” Mara’s voice turned stern. “Help me lift another barrel onto the bar. And…” Mara had twisted the bar rag between her hands as she spoke. “…never say the word ‘short’ in my home again!” She whipped the towel towards the barmaid, making her start from the loud pop. Skye’s little scream polymorphed into big laughter, and she stepped behind the bar and started down the stairs into the cellar.

“Come on handsome.” Skye’s voice dropped into a lower register as she descended. “Fall down into the cellar with me to do a little lifting and by the Blue, you just might earn yourself a kiss.” 

Two young sailors standing near the end of the bar looked each other in the eye for two breaths before both dashed towards the cellar stairs- grabbing and jostling each other like two children as they raced. Skye’s throaty chuckle floated up, getting softer as she descended.

Mara looked back to see the tanned sailor had almost completed the circle of the room. She reached over to fill a horn from another cask and had it waiting for the triumphant man as he returned to his original place at the bar. 

“Try this one, love.” She said, handing him the cup of vanilla porter. “It’s dark and sweet, like you.” She pulled it back slightly as he reached for it, her eyes narrowing and her head tilting slightly to the side. Her other hand went forward- palm up. She smiled as he took another silver coin from the small pouch hanging at his neck and dropped it into her hand. His grin showed decent teeth as he took his new drink and spun around to return to the table with his friends.

Mara hopped down a few lifting shelves and began to wash a few horns at the buckets. First dipping them into a soaped bucket and rubbing the horn’s rim with a small cloth and then rinsing the cup in a second bucket with mostly clean water before setting it onto a bamboo rack to dry. She looked up as Chloe, her second barmaid, stepped into the tavern hall from the outside.

“Cask for the wagon.” Chloe mouthed towards Mara who nodded back.

“Skye..” Mara turned her head to call down the stairs. “Please ask one of your sailors to carry up a cask of Mother’s Milk for the wagon.” A shout of happiness echoed back, presumably from the slower sailor who now hoped he had become eligible for his own kiss. 

Mara then turned her attention to the bard in the corner, raising one finger and moving it quickly in small circles. He responded by switching into a ballad with a faster tempo than the lament he had been playing. “Too soon for the sad stuff.” Mara whispered to herself, smiling and nodding as various customers caught her eye. Yorn, the village butcher adorned with a milk mustache, had risen to meet Chloe- placing his hands on her hips and lifting her feet from the ground as he slowly circled. Chloe’s cheeks reddened, but not with anger. She waited until he had raised her just higher than his eyeline and then brought her lips down to kiss his bald head- closing her eyes and placing a hand on each of his ears. The milk froth on his upper lip didn’t seem to bother her at all. Yorn’s eyes also closed as he spun slowly once more, before placing Chloe’s feet back onto the planked floor. He glanced up to see Mara watching them and rubbed his fat belly as his eyebrows lifted hopefully. Mara nodded and smiled once again, ringing a small bell on the bar and looking towards the kitchen door.

Skye and her sailors returned just as Melina, the tavern’s primary cook, stood at the kitchen door with a steaming ceramic bowl of stew and a small loaf of dark bread. Mara caught Skye’s eye and then glanced back towards Yorn, wordlessly directing Skye to finish the cook’s delivery. Mara then lifted the emptied cask on the bar from its cradle. The practiced ease of the movement spoke to the surprising strength of her small body. She nodded to the appropriate sailor, tilting her head to the open spot- and his arms flexed as he placed the full keg in its place. Mara set her empty upright on the bar next to her, pulled the copper spigot from it, and then pushed it through the corked hole on the new keg. The tap was designed with a tapered point that had small barbs so it could be inserted into a thick piece of waxed cork securely and without spilling. She had traded for the design from a traveling merchant a few years ago, and it made swapping out her kegs a quick and relatively clean process.

A raised voice made her turn her head towards the hall, where the normally quiet Chloe had met the other sailor to retrieve her cask of unfiltered beer. She already had the small keg up on her shoulder and was pointing a finger at the slower sailor and speaking sharply to him. His cheeks had reddened. Mara couldn’t tell which emotion was causing him to color as his hands clenched and released; clenched and released. She hopped easily off the bar and hurried over to intervene. On the way, she shook her head at the ever-protective Yorn, who had risen again- his brows lower and his lips now tight together. He had become much heavier over the last few years, quite fat in fact, but it only made him seem even bigger somehow. She wasn’t sure if he’d seen her as his eyes were locked on his beloved Chloe, but Mara trusted him to allow her an opportunity before he intervened in a manner that would certainly disrupt the current mood of the establishment and likely require significant effort to clean.

“What is it, Chloe?” Mara stopped two short steps from the pair.

“The firkin’s almost empty, ma’am.” Chloe’s eyes cut over to the sailor. “He must have bumped the cork down in the cellar and then pushed it back to hide his spill.”

“I did’na, Miss.” The flush had started to reach down onto his neck. His hands were still at his waist, but now they stayed clenched into fists. The noise level in the tavern had dropped to just conversation, and the damned bard had just stopped playing entirely. A hard look from Mara got him back on track, but the damage had already been done as almost all eyes were now focused on the trio near the outer door.

“There was no spill.” Skye interceded from a distance, her hand lifted high and placed onto Yorn’s massive shoulder. “The kiss was just a teensy one, but I would have noticed if he splashed.” She smiled to try and lighten the tension with the off-color joke, and she did raise a few chuckles from the quicker minds in the crowd.

“I am sorry, Miss.” The sailor looked down at Mara now, his hands unclenched. “I never hefted a keg before, so the weigh of it is new ta’ me. I climb the ropes, Ma’am, so I always be careful. I did’na spill.” A few more chuckles. “I jus’ did’na it was empty.” His face was earnest, and what may have been anger looked to be turning to embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, Ropes…” Mara gave him her best smile, stepping forward and grasping his hand and his forearm- gently turning him towards her and away from Chloe. “Just a misunderstanding. We didn’t mean any harm.” She kept his attention on her as she started to lead him towards Skye, then abruptly changed direction again to find a table away from the still standing butcher. “Sit, Ropes.. Dinner and your next drink are our gifts. A thank you for the help. Sit.. Now….” Said more firmly and he sat. “Skye will bring you out a bowl.” Mara glanced back up and saw that Skye had gotten Yorn back in his seat, his attention back on his own dinner. She caught the girl’s eye, rubbed her stomach and nodded toward the sailor. Skye lifted her head as confirmation and then began to dance and spin her way through the crowd towards the kitchen- pulling most eyes with her as she moved. Even Mara watched for a few seconds. That young girl knew how to work an audience.

“Mara…” Chloe’s voice still sounded strained. Mara looked back in her direction. “Mara, please…”

Chloe’s voice sounded frightened. She wasn’t looking at Mara. Chloe had set the near empty barrel onto a table. The binding ring was loose, and the circular top was at an angle. Chloe was looking down into the small barrel with wide eyes. Her hands were lifted to chest level- trembling softly. Her palms were to the barrel, almost like she was pushing to keep it at a distance. Chloe looked up at Mara and then quickly back to the barrel. Her cheeks were wet with tears. Mara heard a bench scrape loudly and a few patrons exclaim as Yorn rushed to Chloe’s side- softly pushing the woman back further still and putting his large body between her and the small barrel. Doing so seemed to break the woman as Chloe buried her face and hands into his chest, heavy sobs shaking her upper body. Yorn held her against him and half turned so he could look over his shoulder into the barrel.

The large man had seen many horrible things, but what was inside that barrel still made him flinch and bare his teeth as he grimaced. For the second time in just moments, the Tavern was quiet and the music had stopped.

Mara stepped up beside Yorn, watching the big man’s face. His eyes flashed angry, and then they just looked tired. Mara climbed first onto the bench. She then climbed onto the table. One more step and the top of the barrel was just above her belly button. She looked inside and her breath stopped as her hand came up to cover her mouth for just a moment, before she plunged both hands into the barrel- reaching for something- her feet scraping on the sides as she tried to climb inside. The barrel started to tip and Yorn’s big hand reached down. He grabbed the back straps of Mara’s leather apron, steadying and stopping her at the same time. She glared over her shoulder at his face, but that anger quickly dissolved as he settled her back onto the top of the table. His hand opened against her back. No longer stopping- just supporting. Yorn carefully released Chloe with his other arm so he could turn all the way towards the barrel. Very, very slowly, he reached his now free hand down inside. The patrons shuffled and leaned for better views but otherwise they did not move. And the silence deepened further.

Yorn’s arm and hand slowly pulled back up from the barrel. He brought his hand towards Mara with his fingers softly curled up around something. His hand carefully opened to gasps and small involuntary sounds. Murmured prayers and a few profane curses whispered around the room. In his palm was an impossibly small, naked, body. It was not a pixie or sprite. It was a tiny… emaciated… child…

The infant was just larger than the big man’s palm. It was fully formed with arms and legs, feet and hands, and wispy red hair that lay wet on the tiny head. The closed eyes bulged a little from the face. The blue lips were partly open.

Mara reached up to Yorn’s hand. Tears were now trickling down her face. She carefully lifted the body - and the change in perspective from Yorn to Mara made the infant seem suddenly a little larger. She brought it closer to her chest and face, whispering quiet words and looking at the perfectly formed body. It was small and very, very skinny- but otherwise it was perfect from the miniscule fingers to two tiny pointed ears. And it was a boy. Again, very tiny- but also very positively a boy. Mara looked back up to Yorn. His face still looked flushed, but his eyes and mouth now hinted at laughter. Mara just felt….. confused?

Mara looked back down at the tiny stream of urine that arced over to splash between her breasts. She followed the stream to its source, the body of the tiny boy. His arms had stretched above his head. His toothless mouth was open in a big yawn. His legs and feet were stretched and pointed. And his tiny penis was… well, his tiny penis was peeing.

He opened his lids and impossibly bright green eyes were beneath. He looked up into Mara’s shocked face, and the boy began to laugh. The weak but beautiful laugh of a happy infant. And his laughter brought forth chaos into the room! A few people screamed, others cursed loudly. Still more began to laugh hysterically themselves. Chloe simply fainted, sinking into a heap on the floor. And the mighty Yorn was frozen in place. His eyes moving from the baby, down to Chloe on the floor, back to the baby, and then back to Chloe in a seemingly endless cycle.

Mara just stood still, holding the boy before her. The wet spot on her blouse growing steadily larger. She looked into those bright green eyes. She listened to that breathy laughter….

And Mara felt completely at home in her happiness….