The council meeting wasn't going too well.
Krissa hadn't expected much, but she had certainly been hoping for better than this. Hal was being even worse than usual, complaining loudly about his stock while muttering under his breath about "a woman's place" and "commies". Krissa didn't know what a commie was, but she had begun to suspect that no one else here did either, including Hal. It would be like him, to use some forgotten slander in an attempt to sound righteous about everything. And it didn't help that Kurt had come drunk again, and kept trying to look down her blouse, unless the mayor's wife was closer. She'd already slapped him once tonight, and it had taken a good half hour before the uproar quieted down enough to get back to business.
Even the mayor himself was part of the problem, squinting through both rolls of fat and the haze in the room at the others, coughing and running pudgy fingers through oily hair. He was so easily distracted that only the second item of business had been reached after two hours of "discussion", most of which disintigrated into anecdotes, outrageous tirades, or simple babbling. But then, everyone knew that the only reason he'd even shown up was to attempt to keep the others from making a decision on the part of the new highway levies. Apparently, he was going to keep decisions impossible for any of the other items on the agenda as well, although that was more due to his fumbling nature and inability to make decisions than anything else.
Yep, Krissa thought as she surveyed the room with dismay, there were only about two people in the whole room capable of useful discussion, and neither of them were council members. She saw face after face showing boredom, distraction, drunken stupor, or complete lack of comprehension. Several had not even thought to wash up after heading in from the farms and ranches, and Benjamin Hopler positively reeked of manure from where she sat. He occasionally leaned over to spit on the floor under the table, brown juice dripping onto an already filthy shirt. The tobacco spitoon was only a few feet away, but Ben didn't care much for things like that, or for bathing.
Two people in the room with brains, she thought decidedly. One of them was Krissa herself, only there as a "secretary", which everyone agreed was a very useful thing to have, even though no one seemed to know exactly why. Mostly she carried drinks and fetched things, and occasionally took notes over the proceedings, notes which were more blank than otherwise and never glanced at again by any councilman. After the first few months, Krissa had begun using them to start fires in her place when the dry grass was in short supply.
The other one who was intelligent sat alone at the foot of the table. He had not asked for any drinks or other favors since he'd arrived, and he seemed completely content to remain exactly as he was, patiently awaiting the idiotic business of the councilmen to come to his request.
He was distinguished, this one. He seemed oblivious to the filth and crude behavior which surrounded him, but his own appearance clashed violently with that of the rest of the room. His dark features and hair were unusual in this part of the world, although Krissa had heard that there were places full of people like that. His clothes were clean and unpatched, and dressy without being showy, or at least that's how she thought of his simple dress shirt and pants. He was the only one in the room wearing a shirt with buttons and long sleeves, other than the mayor, whose greasy sweat-stains tended to mar the effect. Despite his covered arms and legs and his long hair and thin beard, he ignored the heat as effortlessly as the atmosphere of stupidity.
Krissa wondered what it would be like to be with a man like that. Luke was cute enough, and nice to her, when he was sober. But he couldn't even read or write, and wasn't interested in learning that or anything else beyond the world of his fields and animals. It was taken for granted by almost everyone that Krissa would end up as Luke's wife, with the exception of Krissa herself.
She wondered what his name was, this polite and infinitely patient stranger.
"Krissa! Goddamnit, girl, where the hell is my ale?"
Krissa realized at this point that she had been ignoring the conversation around her to the point of missing requests for her "services".
"Sorry, Mayor, sorry...it must be the heat in here, making me drowsy...I'm sorry...", she mumbled over and over, staring at the floor and hurrying about the room. She reached out the window and pulled on the rope attached to a peg inside the room, drawing up the small cask from its place in the cold stream outside. She poured the nasty brew into the Mayor's pewter mug, secretly rejoicing in the chilly water she was slopped with during the complicated process. Eventually, after plugging holes and mopping up spillage with a dirty towel, she returned the cask to its place and scurried back to her place at the heavy, sticky table, hoping the stranger didn't think her a complete lazybones.
Picking up her pen and blotting it in the watery ink for the thousandth time, Krissa attempted to look attentive to business.
"As I was saying, this whole mess is a bunch a' crap. There ain't no way in hell I'm paying for this without seeing something in writing, and that's that. Goddamn witches, tryin to tell us how to live!"
This statement of defiance was met with approval from nearly the entire table, and immediately toasted with several "here, here!"'s and "dirty whores!" and even a "fuckin' a, Mayor!" from Kurt, followed by a "Hic!" which seemed too cliche to be possible. The mayor's wife rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, no doubt something equally crude involving men in general and Kurt in particular. And...was that a twitch of a frown which had flashed across the stranger's face?
After some more general harrumphing, grumbling, toasting (she had to fill two more mugs), belching, and swearing, the movement was tabled until further (indefinite) notice and the whole party moved on to the next item: the stranger's request.
"So, Mister...ahhhh...how exactly do you say it, again?"
"Tolstoy, Leonard Tolstoy. Call me Leo."
"Right, mister Tolsty...So, then, all you want is permission to live in the old Greer house up on the hill?"
"That's right, Mayor. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't going to be intruding on anyone's business, or family rights, or any of that sort of thing. I'm hoping to invest some capital in a little land out here, and maybe bring some development to the area. I think it looks like a great place for expansion and modernization to begin. Actually, I'm quite...excited about the prospect."
His manner could not have been more contrary to his words. Krissa had never seen or heard anyone so calm in her life. Or so obviously well-read. Hadn't she read about a Tolstoy somewhere? Maybe he was even related to somebody famous. Distantly, of course.
"Capital? What do you mean? This ain't the capital of nothin, except maybe fer bein the middle of nowhere", Hal spouted. Krissa almost groaned out loud.
"I mean money," Leonard explained with a slight smile. "I intend to invest some money here, not only buying up a little spare farm land, but maybe helping out some of the town businesses, help them really get going, that sort of thing. You understand."
At this all of them began nodding energetically and agreeing as loudly as possible, despite Krissa's belief that none of them, in fact, understood why anyone would give money to anyone else. They just understood who would be on the receiving end of this "investment".
Yes, this Leonard...Leo, she thought sneakily, as though she knew him personally...would have no trouble getting his request pushed through the council. The Greer house was rotting apart and no one was inclined to fix up a house which was supposedly haunted. She snorted at the thought of the superstitious traditions so many of these idiots entertained. Like the town known as "Freedom" down the road, populated almost entirely by women who had run away from abusive husbands, invariably referred to as witches or worse.
Krissa snorted. Some people even whispered that the mayor himself had mistletoe hung over every window and door in his house, to keep out evil spirits, and that he drank specially "purified" water every night to keep himself healthy. Krissa had heard enough descriptions of his "water purifier" to know that it was really just a container from the old days, when water had to be filtered to get rid of dirt and metals. He might as well have been drinking it from his damned mug.
As the night's discussion continued, Leo almost seemed to be smiling. He must be pleased at the council's decision, she decided.