It seemed odd to do so, their thoughts still filled with images of
the village and its people, the sounds of the orphaned children
playing outside a pointed reminder of how things really stood.
But there was something indomitable about these old women,
something that transcended the misery and poverty, something
that whispered of promise and hope.
When breakfast was finished. Granny Elise busied herself at
the sink and Auntie Jilt departed to check on the children. Mor-
gan whispered, “These ladies have been operating the orphan-
age for almost thirty years. The Federation lets them alone
because they help keep the children out from underfoot. Nice,
huh? There are hundreds of children with no parents, so the
orphanage is always full. When the children are old enough,
they are smuggled out. If they are allowed to stay too long, the
Federation sends them to the work camps or sells them. Every
so often, the ladies guess wrong.” He shook his head. “I don’t
know how they stand it. I would have gone mad long ago.”
Granny Elise came back and sat with them. “Has Morgan
told you how we met?” she asked the Ohmsfords. “Oh, well,
it was quite something. He brought us food and clothes for the
children, he gave us money to buy what we could, and he helped
guide a dozen children north to be placed with families in the
free territories.”
“Oh, for goodness sake. Granny!” Morgan interjected, em-
barrassed.
“Exactly! And he works around the house now and then when
he visits, too,” she added, ignoring him. “We have become his
own private little charity, haven’t we, Morgan?”
“That reminds me-here.” Morgan reached into his tunic
and extracted a small pouch. The contents jingled as he passed
it over. “I won a wager a week or so back about some per-
fume.” He winked at the Valemen.
“Bless you, Morgan.” Granny Elise rose and came around
to kiss him on the cheek. “You seem quite exhausted-all of
you. There are spare beds in the back and plenty of blankets.
You can sleep until dinner-time.”
She ushered them from the kitchen to a small room at the rear
of the big house where there were several beds, a wash basin,
blankets, and towels. Par glanced around, noticing at once that
the windows were shuttered and the curtains carefully drawn.
Granny Elise noticed the look that the Valeman exchanged
with his brother. “Sometimes, my guests don’t wish to draw
attention to themselves,” she said quietly. Her eyes were sharp.
“Isn’t that the case with you?”
Morgan went over and kissed her gently. “Perceptive as al-
ways, old mother. We’ll need a meeting with Steff. Can you
take care of it?”
Granny Elise looked at him a moment, then nodded word-
lessly, kissed him back and slipped from the room.
It was twilight when they woke, the shuttered room filled with
shadows and silence. Granny Elise appeared, her bluff face gen-
tle and reassuring, slipping through the room on cat’s feet as she
touched each and whispered that it was time, before disappear-
ing back the way she had come. Morgan Leah and the Ohms-
fords rose to find their clothes clean and fresh-smelling again.
Granny Elise had been busy while they slept.
While they were dressing, Morgan said, “We’ll meet with
Steff tonight. He’s part of the Dwarf Resistance, and the Resis-
tance has eyes and ears everywhere. If Walker Boh still lives in
the Eastland, even in the deepest part of the Anar, Steff will
know.”
He finished pulling on his boots and stood up. “Steff was
one of the orphans Granny took in. He’s like a son to her. Other
than Auntie Jilt, he’s the only family she has left.”
They went out from the sleeping room and down the hall to
the kitchen. The children had already finished dinner and retired
to their rooms on the upper two stories, save for a handful of
tiny ones that Auntie Jilt was in the process of feeding, patiently
spooning soup to first one mouth, then the next and so on until
it was time to begin the cycle all over again. She looked up as
they entered and nodded wordlessly.