Brightly Woven
Page 32
“Don’t you need this?” I asked, feeling a little bit guilty. He secured the rest of the cloaks back in place before taking my hand.
“No. Besides, it suits you.”
“Red and red?” I sighed.
He winked. “My favorite color.”
We followed the short path from Lady Aphra’s cottage to the main village below. The thatched roofs were uneven from our vantage point, each small cabin seemingly built on its own hill in the valley. A small river ran along the far edge of the village, catching the early-morning light. Mist rolled off the mountain’s tree-lined slopes like a swirling light stream.
“It’s so quiet and peaceful,” I said.
“Just wait until everyone knows we’re here,” North said, laughing. “You’ll be singing a different song then.”
Rather ungracefully, North scaled the fence surrounding one of the small homes. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and buried it at the foot of their stoop.
“What are you doing?” I asked. He handed me a slip of paper over the fence before bending down to bury another one. Written across the thick paper were symbols I didn’t recognize.
“These should ward off anyone with ill intent,” he said. “Including our friend Dorwan.”
When I leaned over to get a better look, my hand slid against a sharp edge of the fence. I sucked in a quick breath, pulling it away. North snatched up my hand, a strange expression transforming his face as he watched the blood well up along the cut. He didn’t move, but held my hand firmly in his own.
“North?”
He started slightly. “Careful, careful,” he mumbled. He pulled a purple handkerchief from his bag. It was embroidered with his initials and the crest of Palmarta. He held it there until the bleeding was staunched, and only then did he pull away.
“I’ll wash it,” I promised, but he tucked it into the pocket of his trousers before I had the chance to take it back.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, looking at the ground. “Hard to believe, I know, but there was a time in my life when I had to do my own washing.”
We moved down the main row of cottages. At each stoop, he would stop, dig a small hole, and bury the paper. After the fourth cottage, I realized he was mumbling to himself under his breath—something that sounded vaguely like a prayer. I added my own, rubbing the frozen metal of my necklace between my palms.
With all ten cottages taken care of, North and I settled on the side of the hill, halfway up the path to Lady Aphra’s cottage.
“I didn’t even know this village existed,” I said. North reclined back on his elbows, his eyes closed.
“I’m not surprised,” he said. “Lady Aphra actually owns the entire valley. She bought the land grant from the king himself.”
“How did you meet Lady Aphra?” I asked. “She’s an interesting choice for a patroness.”
“Why, because she’s not wealthy?” North asked with a teasing smile. I winced at the memory.
“No…I would have thought she’d be…much younger, and more attractive,” I said.
North laughed. “So I only help attractive people? You realize you’re flattering yourself.”
“You’re not helping me,” I said. “I’m helping you, remember?”
“Yes, of course,” North said.
“Good,” I said, happy to be in agreement. “Now answer my question!”
“So nosy,” he said, toying with one of my ringlets. “Magister Pascal and Lady Aphra have been…friends for quite some time. He used to bring Oliver and me up here all the time to help with building the cottages. After I left Magister, I stayed with Lady Aphra and offered my services.”
“I thought wizards relied on their patrons to earn money,” I said. “Do you have another one?”
“No,” he said. “Some of us do odd jobs here and there to get by. You take a patron because you like them or because you’re in for some gold. I chose the former.”
Just then, a small figure came out of the school and rang a large bell four times. The sound echoed off the mountains and carried throughout the valley. North and I watched silently as one by one the door to each cottage opened and scores of children poured out, each followed closely by an adult. I counted thirty-four small heads lined up outside the school.
“Good morning,” came a new voice behind us. We turned to find Lady Aphra descending the path, resplendent in a worn navy dress. A decorative clip pulled back her gray hair, but wild strands were already escaping. Everything about the way she carried herself provided evidence for North’s story. When she reached the school, the children broke ranks and swarmed the old woman.
“She’s a good teacher,” North said. He was on his back, nearly buried in the long grass. His eyes were shut, and his gloved hands were loosely folded across his chest. The smile on his face must have been as wide as my own. I had never seen him like this before, and it was such a pleasant sight I almost didn’t feel the cold.
I lay down next to him in the wet grass, feeling the dew and the new sun. A light breeze whispered through my hair and across my cheeks. And despite the threat of Dorwan and the ache of travel in the soles of my feet, there was little else but happiness in my heart.
Later that day, just as I finished the first quarter of the cloak, a young boy brought two letters up the hill to Aphra’s cabin. North was at the schoolhouse asking a few of the older children about the wolf, so the boy handed the letters to me. They had been forwarded from Fairwell.
“No. Besides, it suits you.”
“Red and red?” I sighed.
He winked. “My favorite color.”
We followed the short path from Lady Aphra’s cottage to the main village below. The thatched roofs were uneven from our vantage point, each small cabin seemingly built on its own hill in the valley. A small river ran along the far edge of the village, catching the early-morning light. Mist rolled off the mountain’s tree-lined slopes like a swirling light stream.
“It’s so quiet and peaceful,” I said.
“Just wait until everyone knows we’re here,” North said, laughing. “You’ll be singing a different song then.”
Rather ungracefully, North scaled the fence surrounding one of the small homes. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and buried it at the foot of their stoop.
“What are you doing?” I asked. He handed me a slip of paper over the fence before bending down to bury another one. Written across the thick paper were symbols I didn’t recognize.
“These should ward off anyone with ill intent,” he said. “Including our friend Dorwan.”
When I leaned over to get a better look, my hand slid against a sharp edge of the fence. I sucked in a quick breath, pulling it away. North snatched up my hand, a strange expression transforming his face as he watched the blood well up along the cut. He didn’t move, but held my hand firmly in his own.
“North?”
He started slightly. “Careful, careful,” he mumbled. He pulled a purple handkerchief from his bag. It was embroidered with his initials and the crest of Palmarta. He held it there until the bleeding was staunched, and only then did he pull away.
“I’ll wash it,” I promised, but he tucked it into the pocket of his trousers before I had the chance to take it back.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, looking at the ground. “Hard to believe, I know, but there was a time in my life when I had to do my own washing.”
We moved down the main row of cottages. At each stoop, he would stop, dig a small hole, and bury the paper. After the fourth cottage, I realized he was mumbling to himself under his breath—something that sounded vaguely like a prayer. I added my own, rubbing the frozen metal of my necklace between my palms.
With all ten cottages taken care of, North and I settled on the side of the hill, halfway up the path to Lady Aphra’s cottage.
“I didn’t even know this village existed,” I said. North reclined back on his elbows, his eyes closed.
“I’m not surprised,” he said. “Lady Aphra actually owns the entire valley. She bought the land grant from the king himself.”
“How did you meet Lady Aphra?” I asked. “She’s an interesting choice for a patroness.”
“Why, because she’s not wealthy?” North asked with a teasing smile. I winced at the memory.
“No…I would have thought she’d be…much younger, and more attractive,” I said.
North laughed. “So I only help attractive people? You realize you’re flattering yourself.”
“You’re not helping me,” I said. “I’m helping you, remember?”
“Yes, of course,” North said.
“Good,” I said, happy to be in agreement. “Now answer my question!”
“So nosy,” he said, toying with one of my ringlets. “Magister Pascal and Lady Aphra have been…friends for quite some time. He used to bring Oliver and me up here all the time to help with building the cottages. After I left Magister, I stayed with Lady Aphra and offered my services.”
“I thought wizards relied on their patrons to earn money,” I said. “Do you have another one?”
“No,” he said. “Some of us do odd jobs here and there to get by. You take a patron because you like them or because you’re in for some gold. I chose the former.”
Just then, a small figure came out of the school and rang a large bell four times. The sound echoed off the mountains and carried throughout the valley. North and I watched silently as one by one the door to each cottage opened and scores of children poured out, each followed closely by an adult. I counted thirty-four small heads lined up outside the school.
“Good morning,” came a new voice behind us. We turned to find Lady Aphra descending the path, resplendent in a worn navy dress. A decorative clip pulled back her gray hair, but wild strands were already escaping. Everything about the way she carried herself provided evidence for North’s story. When she reached the school, the children broke ranks and swarmed the old woman.
“She’s a good teacher,” North said. He was on his back, nearly buried in the long grass. His eyes were shut, and his gloved hands were loosely folded across his chest. The smile on his face must have been as wide as my own. I had never seen him like this before, and it was such a pleasant sight I almost didn’t feel the cold.
I lay down next to him in the wet grass, feeling the dew and the new sun. A light breeze whispered through my hair and across my cheeks. And despite the threat of Dorwan and the ache of travel in the soles of my feet, there was little else but happiness in my heart.
Later that day, just as I finished the first quarter of the cloak, a young boy brought two letters up the hill to Aphra’s cabin. North was at the schoolhouse asking a few of the older children about the wolf, so the boy handed the letters to me. They had been forwarded from Fairwell.
