Beside her, Mitch relaxed his shoulders when the soldier confirmed that he was a scout for the unit sent to stop the slavers. The pair showed the scout where the dance hall was and asked him to hurry in fetching the others.
Relief and worry fought in Tasia’s heart. All they needed to do was stall until the army came in to save the day. Unfortunately,there were so very many things that could go wrong between now and then.
Due to their detour through the woods, Mitch and Tasia approached the hall from the opposite direction of the front doors. Mitch pointed toward something, and she remembered that they needed to lock more of Grandmother’s thugs in the cellar. Windows faced them, but with the bright lights inside and the darkness out, she knew they wouldn’t be seen.
Mitch found a stout branch nearby and tiptoed over to wedge it through the handles on the cellar doors.
A raspy voice, just audible through the wood, said, “Did you hear—”
“Shut. Up,” a lower voice interrupted.
Tasia and Mitch exchanged glances, then hustled quietly around to the front doors. At the entrance, Tasia paused to let him go first. She had the feeling that waltzing in together would draw more attention than they could afford at the moment.
Chapter Fifteen
Which Starts With Déjà Vu
“Ah! There you are!” The loud voice that greeted Mitch was attached to a richly dressed arm that wrapped around her protector’s shoulders and pulled him inside.
That must be Barone, Tasia thought while waiting to pass through the door. Waiting felt impossible, so she only counted to ten before entering.
It was hard to tell with all the movement, but Tasia thought there were more people in attendance than at the harvest dance. She sidled into the room and tripped over a wooden wedge, then began scanning the space for a door she hadn’t noticed before. After two unfruitful passes, her gaze snagged on Mitch. The poor man was being held captive by the mayor. Mitch raised his eyebrows at her, then tilted his head to the left. She followed his direction and finally spied a robust potted plant that was blocking a doorway.
Squinting a little, she wondered how to lock the door without a key. If it even had a lock. Then she recalled the tripping hazardand stooped to pocket the wedge. Nobody would need to prop open the front doors tonight.
As she made her way through the crowd, whispers began following her.
“Red? That’s a bold choice.”
“Unfortunate, rather. It clashes terribly with her hair.”
Tasia let the foolish comments roll off her back. She had more important things to attend.
It was a simple matter, all things considered, to drop the door prop behind the potted plant and use her foot to wedge it in place. A glance at Mitch showed that he had seen her accomplish the task. She returned his half smile with a full one of her own, then switched her focus to the refreshment room. It made the most sense for the cider to be served from there.
Before she finished working her way through the crush of villagers, the musicians played an attention-getting trill. An older man, who looked too similar to Bunny to be anyone but her father, stepped onto a chair and announced that it was time for cider.
The beverage was passed out in a rapid, orderly manner that Tasia admired for its efficiency even as she inwardly panicked. The villagers knew what they were doing. Her only consolation was that nobody seemed to be drinking yet.
“Here you go, Tasia.” Bunny appeared out of nowhere with a glass that Tasia accepted automatically. “Our cider may not be able to make you village, but maybe it can sweeten your temperament.”
The mean girl smirked, then twirled away. Tasia sniffed at the drink but couldn’t smell anything besides the sharp tang of apple. When she shot a look at Mitch, he was still being held in place by the mayor’s arm, but he didn’t have a cup.
All too soon, everyone in the room had a glass of cider, including most of the little ones. Bunny’s father made agrandiose toast about the new year and other things that Tasia didn’t listen to as she scrambled for a way to stop him. When the villagers raised their glasses, she followed suit and almost took a drink. The rim against her lip brought her back to the present. She faked a sip and searched for Bunny.
Some folks, especially the youngsters, chugged their beverages. Others savored the experience. Nothing happened to either type of drinker in the first minute, and Tasia began second-guessing everything. She had been so sure that the cider was the source of the filemu, but maybe her failure to interrupt the toast wasn’t a problem, after all.
Then Bunny tipped her cup out into a vessel behind her back. If Tasia hadn’t been used to seeing the girl do sneaky things, she would have missed it. Feeling vindicated, she looked for Bunny’s father. He was nursing his drink, but she saw him take several swallows.
He must not be in on the plot, she mused as she continued scanning the room.
When the musicians finished their glasses, they started up the music again. Laughter and conversation returned to full volume. Only the side room with the smallest children seemed different. As Tasia peered into the space, several of them started yawning and rubbing their eyes. The adults in the archway began helping the little ones find soft places to rest. Tasia thought she spotted Chara in the pile of pillows at one point.
A growing certainty told her that it was the filemu. The smallest amongst them were affected first. It seemed their initial reaction was to fall asleep.
Indecision froze her. They needed to stall until the army could arrive. But it was too late to protect everyone from the drug, and the thugs had already been locked in the cellar. She didn’t know what to do beyond keeping watch over the helpless villagers. Maybe that was good enough. It didn’t feel good enough.
A few minutes later, the only people awake in the children’s room were the adults and the infants too young for cider. The room next door with the oldest citizens was also showing signs of being drugged. Tasia couldn’t hear the snoring, but she could see the effect one woman’s sleep-wheeze was having on the nearby feathers of another dozing woman’s antiquated headdress.
