In Her Place

This is a continuation of Æthred’s story, which began with Recruits. The events leading up to this snippet can be found in a previous post, Poisonous.

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Æthred grimaced as she pulled the undershirt from the wash water and inspected it. The food stains down the front had not quite disappeared, which meant she was back to scrubbing. She sighed. It was just as well guests at the inn paid extra to have their clothes laundered, because it had to be one of her least preferred tasks.

At least she wasn’t dealing with chamber-pots this afternoon.

She dropped the shirt back in the water and got to work. Only a few garments were left, after all. As she found a rhythm again, scrubbing the stubborn undershirt, the washboard’s familiar rasp echoed in the empty yard. It was a good time of day to do this, as most of the lunch patrons had left and her mother hadn’t opened the doors for early dinner yet.

“Æthred!”

[It travels without feet]

a riddle

It travels without feet
And touches without hands;
With neither wain nor fleet
It crosses sea and land.

It’s endlessly on time
And though its gaze can kill,
Its kiss is often kind
And so we seek it still.

Fire by Night

A crowd had already gathered. Tälin could hear their chatter outside the canvas lean-to, although it was too far back to make out any distinct words. But the crowd was closer, thicker than usual. Evren had done a good job tonight, getting them all to come.

Tälin’s heartbeat fluttered nervously. More people in the audience meant more scills in the sweep of Evren’s skirt – but it also made it more likely that they’d be found and raided. Although the twins had an escape plan up their sleeves, she didn’t want to find out what would happen if they had to pit their fire against swords.

Someone pushed aside the canvas flap and Tälin looked up. Hrian, the shorter of the twins, stood in the doorway, a dancing flame balanced in his left hand. It cast a wavering shadow that competed with the one cast by the lamp hanging from the tent roof. “You shielded yet?” he asked.

“Sulsevo,” Tälin said. Her eyes and fingers flashed scarlet. “Now I am.”

The Lay of Feresol

a song

1
In first of years, in sunlit lands,
Before the gods communed with men,
They fashioned stories with their hands
And knew no whit of word or pen.
Each mother’s child was mute of tongue
However oft they worked or played;
No name was said nor song was sung
Wherever they their homes had made.

2
In first of years, as night would fall,
The children danced in leaf and fir,
But one was only half as tall
As all her older brethren were.
They would not let her venture thus
Into the woods till she was grown
And so in sunset luminous
She stayed behind and danced alone.

Poisonous

This is a continuation of Ciori’s story. The events leading up to it can be found in a previous post, One Down.

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« Borian. »

No answer.

« Borian. »

So she could not reach her son at the well either. Head bowed, hands clenched, Ciori tried the last few places she could think of.

« Borian. Borian. Borian. »

Nothing.

Ciori sighed and slumped back against the wall of cool stone. Her head ached, but she refused to dwell on the thought that had been plaguing her since her first sending to Borian had gone unanswered – the possibility that they had taken him too.

[Seed of fire]

a riddle

Seed of fire
In gold and black:
When you bite
It bites you back.

A Scrap or Two

“Come on, Hrost.” Dwinnen grabbed her little brother’s hand and pulled him away from the stray cat he was attempting to lure with a bit of bacon rind. “You don’t want it following us.”

Hrost stumbled to his feet, the rind clutched protectively in his fist. “Yes I do,” he said. “Cats are friendly. They catch mice.”

“Well, we don’t have any mice for it to catch.”

That much was sound logic and Hrost didn’t have a counter for it. He puzzled it over in silence as he trotted at his sister’s heels, glancing back every few steps to check if the black-and-grey feline would come after them. To his delight, it wasn’t long before a set of whiskers appeared at the edge of the alley guard stone, followed by luminous round eyes. The cat slunk around the stone and, sticking to the wall closer than a shadow, began to pad after them.

One Down

Scudding dark clouds covered the waning moon. They gathered in preparation for winter and crowded out any thought of warmth or light. Even the wind whimpered at the edges of the door and the window shutters like a lonely wolf begging shelter. It was not a night to brave the outdoors.

But that had made no difference to Ciori.

With the material and tools of her trade bundled protectively on her back, she had set out from her cottage long after sunset “to help a struggling friend” – or so she had told those at the gate. In truth, she barely knew the woman whose house she sought. The family was new to the town, but the father was one of Ciori’s son’s most recent recruits and he vowed they could be trusted. Besides, from the sound of it her help was desperately needed.

“It’s their youngest,” her son had said. “Flaxfever.”

[Jewels thrown down]

a riddle hail

Burst of anger – jewels thrown down
Break and scatter beads of glass.
Trampled in the sodden ground,
They catch the light and cannot last.

The Great and Glorious Gliff

a ballad for children

I went walking one day to the market,
With money enough for a treat (to eat).
I had just bought a basket of pastries
When commotion arose in the street.

A man stood out front of the baker’s,
A bright gilded cage by his side (with pride).
I joined the crowd crowding around him
As to everyone gathered he cried:

     (Refrain)

     The great and glorious gliff!
     The rarest and finest of things (with wings) –
     The great and glorious gliff!
     What luck to her owner she brings!

     Come see the gleam of her feathers!
     Come hear the bliss of her song!
     You won’t find a finer bird in the world,
     Though you search it all your life long.