Esther

  People slowly gathered in front of Luke's house. Emma stood in the middle of the front yard, creating an imaginary boundary that no one was allowed to cross unless they wanted another good soaking. The house lay silent behind her; no one could be seen inside through the glass windows at the front. The dirt road was a ruin of mud. The villagers were soaked and shivering with cold, though given the intense heat of the day, it wouldn't take them long to dry off. The sphere of water hovered above the scene. Its vast size protected the crowd from the intense rays of the sun, like a great cloud. The blue sky looked undulating, colourful, and crowded with tiny bubbles through the curtain of crystal-clear water.

  It should intensify the sun's rays like a magnifying glass, instead of breaking them into colors like a prism,” Esther thought. I wonder if Emma included that detail in her creation … It's incredible what she managed to do with just a simple orb spell. I can’t help but feel jealous.

  “I can't see Julie,” Helena said, looking over the people.

  Esther searched for her family among the crowd: she saw her mother standing at the front with her friends and Elsa. Yet her little sister was nowhere to be found.

  “I don’t think she’s here,” Helena said. “I thought she was playing on the green with the other kids.”

  “That’s what I thought too. Where could that brat be?”

  Richard, apprentice priest and husband of Celeste, walked over to Emma and stood beside her. He was a man with dark brown hair, a long moustache, and a docile appearance. He looked clean and dry, though his trousers were dirty with mud. It seemed that, unlike the villagers, he had not been wet by the sphere. Esther remembered how frustrated he had looked during the meeting at the shrine whenever Agatha or her allies spoke. He still had much to learn if he wanted to become a priest like Emma.

  “Priestess! Why have you done such a thing?” shouted an elderly woman, soaked from head to toe. Her old face was stained with smudged makeup. “This is an act of audacity on your part! An offence against the good people of this community. Rest assured that I will report you to the high priest of the city. I will not rest until you pay for this transgression.

  The elderly woman, known in the village as Mrs. Agatha, wore a soft cream-colored silk dress and a satin bonnet adorned with white flowers. Esther remembered seeing her with an elaborate hairstyle during mass; now it was a tangle of gray, wet hair. She understood why the old woman was upset. The outfit looked expensive, and the hairstyle must have taken a long time to do. Emma had ruined them both with her spell.

  “You have every right to report me, my child,” Emma said mockingly. “If you want, I can help you arrange a meeting with the man.”

  “I don’t need your assistance. I know the man personally.”

  “I know you do,” Emma said with a bored face.

  “Do you think I won’t dare report you to him? I can make you lose your position as head of this shrine.”

  “Mrs. Agatha, I know that you and the high priest frequent the same social circles in the city. However, you are now in Rodford. This is my territory, and you are part of my flock. I don’t care what that man thinks or says. He has no authority here.”

  Agatha trembled with rage. She approached Emma and stood to her right. “Do not tempt me, priestess. I could travel to the capital and speak to the Pontiff himself. You cannot deny that he has authority over you.” Four elderly women positioned themselves behind Agatha and glared at Emma with fury. They were all wearing elegant dresses, though ruined by the drenching they had suffered.

  “That old woman and her friends are nothing but troublemakers,” Helena muttered. “I don’t know why they don’t just go back where they came from.”

  “True,” Esther said.

  Agatha and her allies were known in the village as “seasonal residents”. Their main home was in the city of Blackferr, where they were part of the city's upper society. Their stay in Rodford was mostly a temporary affair, usually done during the summer months and part of autumn, or when city life became too stressful and they needed a respite in their lovely country homes. However, in their short stays they became a bother to the villagers, for they always found something to complain about, or tried to take control of the decisions that affected the village administration.

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  Esther found it ironic that wealthy people fled to the countryside when city life began to bother them, while poor people living in the countryside fled to the city in search of employment to survive.

  “Do what you want,” Emma said, turning her back on her. “Richard, talk. What happened?”

  “Well, it all started when the boy we all know as Milo stormed the meeting we had at the shrine, running and shouting like crazy that Michael Hunter was sleeping with Elisa at Luke's house, and her husband was running there to kill him. As you can imagine, people were in shock when they heard that. We all know Elisa and her husband, Clark. I had no choice but to cancel the meeting.”

  “And where is he?”

  “He fled after causing the commotion. Some men had grabbed him to get a better explanation, but the boy kicked them and managed to break free. As I understand it, he received help from two of his friends.”

  “That’s just rubbish!” Agnes shouted. She and her friends moved away from the crowd and stood to Emma’s left. “I don’t know how you can believe my dear Michael could do something so horrible. He’s such a good boy.”

  “There's no need to believe; we just need to go inside and catch him in the deed,” Agatha said. “Although I think that with the spectacle the priestess made, the adulterer must have fled by now. You did it on purpose, priestess. You did it to help him.”

  Emma looked at her with a wry smile. “For your age, you still have some imagination in that old head of yours.”

  “Don’t play dumb. You cannot fool me. I have been dealing with your kind for decades.”

  Emma ignored her and turned her head toward the crowd. “I was told that you were planning a lynching! Is this true!? Answer me truthfully, or I'll drench you all again! Emma roared.” The fury in her eyes was evident.

  “No, priestess, you're wrong!’ shouted a woman at the front of the crowd. “We didn't plan any of that. I don't know who told such a lie.”

  “Celeste told me the news. Is she lying?”

  Everyone turned to look at her. Celeste blushed and lowered her head. She walked over to Richard and Emma, ??with little Emmy trailing behind her. “That’s what I heard people saying,” she said shyly.

  “No, ma’am, my wife misheard. I think she misunderstood what the villagers were saying,” Richard said. “They were talking about how they haven’t gathered like this since they caught and lynched a gang of cattle rustlers two years ago.”

  “We really beat those fuckers,” said a man, laughing heartily. “It’s a shame the police came and took them away.”

  “If you’re not going to lynch anyone, then what are you all doing here, gathered like a pack of beasts in facing fresh prey?” Emma asked.

  “‘Cause those fancy ladies over there kept babbling like puffed-up pigeons about morality, dishonor, and some other shit,” the man said. “They were the ones who started and lit the bonfire, ma’am. They cackled all o’ us into comin’ here.”

  “This whole scandal was your fault,” Agnes said, pointing at Agatha. “Why don’t you go bark at a tree, you old bitch? Your presence is just a nuisance.”

  “Don't you dare speak to me like that! I demand respect!’

  “Respect is earned, you smug old bitch. I bet no one has ever punched you in the mouth; that's why you're so insufferable.”

  "Are you threatening me? Do you think I fear you because you are a Hunter? Ha, I don't fear anyone. And certainly not a family like yours, where the young men go out at night to mug other young men as if they were thugs. And don't even get me started on their aunt. That drunk who has no shame about surrounding herself with men she doesn't know in that dive you all call Mary's Tavern. When you meet her, you understand why the family's youngsters are the way they are: bandits and whores.”

  “That wretched woman,” Helena said.

  Esther grabbed her arm. “Don’t pay any attention to her, Ale. It’s all just talk.”

  “I know, but… Damn it. Someone should shut her up.”

  “Watch your tongue, Agatha,” Elsa said, walking over to where Agnes was. “Don’t say anything you might regret.”

  The old woman laughed loudly. “Regret? Regret what? Regret telling the truth? We all see how Eric’s daughter behaves and the bad example she is setting for her nephews and nieces. Her father should correct her before that tramp gives him a bastard.”

  “Agatha! You'd better shut up or I'll bathe you again,” Emma said. “I won't allow you to continue talking like that anymore.”

  “No one can shut me up!” she shouted. “Only my parents and my husband had that right, but they're all gone now! I say whatever I want, and no one here can tell me to shut up!’

  “What about me? I think I can shut you up,” said a voice so familiar to Esther, a voice she never expected to find in there.