AHMM, December 2009 Read Online Free Page A

husband, “You did this to Karunkar?” and in a second she lunged at him with her hands outstretched, her nails cutting deep into his cheeks. Her wails greeted the police.
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    The following morning Anita crossed the road to the bus stand and dropped her suitcase next to Parvati's. The other woman offered an embarrassed smile and a shrug.
    "My mother has insisted I return home during this difficult time,” Parvati said. “I am glad to do so. I have considered the question of loyalty, and I am concluding that I am free to go. My husband has placed his heart and his loyalty elsewhere. Besides, he has loving family here and I do not.” This was a long speech, and Parvati's voice grew softer and softer as other villagers arrived to wait for the bus. “Is it so lovely, your Hotel Delite?"
    "It will be after my Auntie Meena calms down. Auntie Remy has given her the news about Sheela and Karunkar and Bharat, and I know what Meena will say."
    Parvati arched an eyebrow. “She will be so disapproving of the good you have done?"
    "She will believe I was the cause of it all, that I brought the bad luck with me.” Anita laughed. “You have to love someone who thinks I have that much power in life."
    Copyright © 2009 Susan Oleksiw
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Fiction: THE TROLLFARM KILLING by Mike Culpepper
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    Tim Foley
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    Colm was not very pleased that Bjorn wanted him to go along to Althing that summer; he would rather tend his sheep. But no slave could ignore his master's bidding. And the fact that Bjorn wanted him along hinted that the man might be weighing him as a potential retainer, a free man who would support Bjorn and help him to become more important. “Free” being the operative word here. So it wasn't all bad. Even so, Colm would rather stay with his sheep. He wished his two lambs to increase to a flock and the flock increase to the point where he could buy his freedom.
    The day before riding out to Althing, Colm went up to the shieling to take Edgar some provisions—a bowl of skyr for now and a lump of cheese and strip of dried mutton for the next week or so. Edgar had no teeth left but he could gum at the meat and it would last all the longer. The old man sat with his face raised to the sun, warming himself like a toad on a rock. He grinned at Colm, his wide toothless mouth spread in pleasure. Colm smiled back and was glad to see the old man's joy at being in the sun and having a useful task to do. Edgar, too, was a slave. He owned no sheep, though, owned nothing, not even his own body, which might be sacrificed to some pagan god whenever it had no other use.
    Colm caught sight of the flock grazing twenty yards or so downslope from a patch of snow. They would work up the mountainside as it thawed. Colm didn't have to check the earmarks to know which were his and which belonged to others; he knew his lambs by sight even at a distance. The sheep cropped at the bright green new grass, and Colm imagined it all going to fat and wool and meat as he watched and willed his two small animals to put on weight.
    A great old wether, guardian of the flock, raised its head and studied Colm. Deciding he was no danger, the wether lowered his head back into the grass. Colm relished the peaceful scene and wished with all his heart that he could stay and be part of it. But his heart was so full of wishes already, he could never live long enough to see them all granted. Colm bid old Edgar good day and went back down to Bjorn's farm to do chores for his master.
    In the morning, Bjorn told Colm to take a horse for himself. That was something! Saddle or no, it was better to ride to Althing than run along behind the mounted freemen.
    Then Bjorn surprised him further. “It might be useful if you could find a weapon,” he said. It was not a usual practice to allow a slave to be armed. Of course, Colm had a weapon hidden away, a single-edged scramasax that he had taken from the belongings of an English slave that