“But I knew that I had to do it. I was there to serve these people, people who had rarely thanked me for my efforts, and this was the only service I could now offer them. To think, after living among them, each person thanked me more than ever before for what I was about to do to each of them. They wept with joy and whispered their deepest appreciation that I was about to end their life.”

Isidore’s breathing came with difficulty as she labored to continue the story. “Then I used my gift to stop their hearts, each one in turn, one at a time, over and over. I had to do it more than four hundred times in all.

“It took until long after nightfall before I had delivered all but one of the people of Grandengart from their agony. I was not quite through with my work. I had silenced the moans, and stopped all but one heart.”

Chapter 26

“It was long after the moon should have been high in the sky when I finally reached the last man,” Isidore said. “But there was no moon because a thick overcast had gradually covered the sky, like a shroud of gray darkness pulled over the dead. I knew that it would soon begin to rain.

“The last man alive was trembling and having difficulty breathing. His name was Joel. He was a baker. Every day he had used to bring me a small loaf of bread. He would never accept payment. Joel said that it was his small part to make sure that Grandengart’s sorceress did not want for a meal.

“Truth be told, Joel had feelings for me, though he never spoke of those feelings or acted on them, except to bring me that loaf of bread. I think it was an excuse for him to see me.

“Joel’s wife had died in childbirth before I came to Grandengart. He was lonely and terribly sad. There was something about him, something beneath the sadness, that I liked, but knowing about the death of his wife and unborn child I felt uncomfortable saying much to him, other than to ask as the town’s sorceress how he was and if there was anything I could do for him. He always said that he was fine and turned down any offer of help.

“Over time, my feelings for him grew, but in light of his loss I felt that it was not my place to speak of such things. I knew that he would be a long time in getting over such a loss and felt that I had to respect the pace of grieving and felt that I shouldn’t interfere. So, as much as I longed to tell him of my feelings, I kept my distance. Yet every day he would bring me a loaf of bread, as if that was the only way he could reach out to me.