Abnerys Reyes's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

The next morning, Sebastian pulled up to Abnerys's cottage in an old convertible. Its rounded fenders shone, and the top was down. "The town holds a market today," he said. "If we're going to kill this curse, we do it where everyone can see." Abnerys climbed in beside him. Her plan was simple. She had the soil report. She would show the whole town what she had shown Sebastian. They drove into the square with the wind in their hair. Stalls lined the open ground. People sold bread, cheese, and cut flowers. When the convertible stopped, heads turned. Everyone knew the Batista name. Everyone knew the cursed land. Abnerys stood on the car's back seat so they could all see her. She held up the soil report. "The Batista vines didn't fail from any curse," she called out. "They failed from bad drainage. Water drowned the roots. I have the proof right here." She read the numbers aloud. She showed the maps. She explained where the water pooled and why the vines rotted. At first the crowd only muttered. An older woman crossed her arms. "Folks have died working that ground," she said. "Numbers don't raise the dead." Abnerys did not flinch. "Nobody died from a curse," she said. "They died from accidents on a hillside nobody drained. Fix the water, and the land is just land." She turned to Sebastian. He climbed up beside her. "I doubted her too," he said. His voice carried across the square. "I grew up believing the story. Then she handed me the truth on paper. I trust this woman with half my family's land. I'd trust any of you to work it beside her." The muttering shifted. A young man near the bread stall spoke up. "My father worked drainage in the next valley. She's right about the water. I've seen it." Others nodded. The older woman uncrossed her arms. By the time the sun was high, three men had come forward. They wanted to hear more. They wanted wages. The fear that had gripped the town for years cracked open in a single morning. Abnerys stepped down into the crowd, answering questions until her throat went dry. Sebastian stayed at her side. When the market thinned, he leaned close. "You did it," he said. "The man who owes us will send his workers now. He needed the town convinced, and the town is convinced." She should have felt only relief. Instead a new worry pressed in. "Then the workers come soon," she said. "Six hands became many. I command them all. And I've never run a crew that size in ground this steep." The curse was dead. Now the real digging began, and every mistake would be hers to answer for.