Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) (70 page)

Slowly, Chasa straightened and smiled.
“
Good.
”
He started to turn to the door.

“
Good luck,
”
Sene called after him.

Chasa grinned over his shoulder.
“
I
’
ll need it.
”

After the boy was gone, Sene smiled to himself. Ah, well. His son was used to killing sea monsters. One mean young woman shouldn
’
t give him too much trouble.

One special young woman. Sene rested his head against the edge of the tub, and his smile faded.

Special. But not his.

* * *

“
There! The last sleeve is in,
”
Vray said brightly.
“
Now I can start the interesting part.
”

Clack, clack, clack. The steady beat of the loom was the only noise in the house. Cyril showed no response to Vray
’
s comment, but Vray was used to that by now. She held the shirt up, knowing that the motion would attract the woman
’
s attention.

“
I was thinking of green fern leaves across the yoke. Pepper should look good in green, shouldn
’
t she?
”

Cyril turned her head. Her eyes flicked over the garment with what Vray read as pleased approval, before she went back to her own work. The cloth on the loom was an intricate pattern of cream and blue, reminding Vray of birds and water.

She set Pepper
’
s new shirt aside for a moment and bent down to rummage in her sewing basket for the medium-size embroidery hoop. Pulling it out, she rested it on her lap and chose a skein of pale green thread and her favorite needle. She settled back in the chair and wriggled her shoulders. The sewing had seemed to go fast, but the slight ache in her muscles reminded her she
’
d been at this all morning. She slipped cloth between the wooden circles, tightened the one on top, then looked at Cyril again. Her foster mother was surprisingly good company, despite never speaking, or hardly even looking at her. On second thought, perhaps that was precisely why she was good to be with. Vray enjoyed the peace, and appreciated having no demands made on her. No demands, but plenty of expectations. A morning spent working beside Cyril was satisfying. Expectations were encouraging as demands never were.

Or suggestions. Or choices. In the days that had passed since her conversation with the minstrel, the idea of having choices kept cropping up in her thoughts. She was glad he
’
d spent
only
one night in the village. She
’
d heard from Herri that the minstrel was heading for his home village in Dherrica. She hoped he made it before the winter settled in
—
and once there that he
’
d be snowed in until spring. If he couldn
’
t report to Sene of Sitrine, he couldn
’
t deliver any more messages. She didn
’
t want to hear from kings. She was comfortable where she was.

It was especially comfortable with the house quiet. The weather was threatening snow, so she
’
d made sure the girls were warmly dressed before letting them go outside to play. They wouldn
’
t be back until supper. A whole day without children arguing, questioning, pestering, and playing underfoot!

Vray sighed. A combination of contentment and boredom suddenly made her wish she had someone adult to talk to. She studied Cyril. The woman
’
s shiny black braid fell to the center of her back. Her expression was closed and enigmatic, but alert with the concentration needed for her weaving. Someone to talk to, even if not someone to carry on lively conversation with. Cyril had limitations, certainly. Yet somehow she gave the impression of listening, although Vray could never be sure whether she was actually paying attention. Still, Pepper and Matti always came to her for help and comfort. Vray was her daughter, too. Or so Jordy insisted. She should act like one. Whine? Complain? Get into a fight with Pepper and Matti? She chuckled, and watched Cyril carefully for a response. She saw none. Very little made the Keeper woman react.

Vray rubbed her palms together. She wanted her mommy
’
s attention. She was seventeen, not seven. What problems did seventeen-year-olds bring to mothers? Boys, of course. There was one in the village trying to court her. But Lim was certainly no problem, although he wanted to be. She grinned. The boy was so inexperienced he didn
’
t know the meaning of the word
“
problem.
”

“
There was a guardsman in Edian,
”
she said suddenly.
“
I was in love with him before my family sent me away.
”

Cyril had reached the end of one section of the pattern. The loom fell silent, and she reached for the next color.

Vray folded her hands in her lap, embroidery abandoned.
“
Handsome. More than handsome. I was eleven when I decided I wanted him. I didn
’
t know quite what I wanted him for, but I was willing to learn. Only trouble was, he wasn
’
t willing to teach me. Kept thinking of me as a little girl just because he
’
d known me all my life. I was flat-chested and skinny, which didn
’
t help. He likes girls
—”
She held her hands out a good twelve inches in front of her chest,
“
—
ample. Cows.
”

Cyril did not seem to notice the gesture. However, she was busy sorting thread, and the continued silence of the loom was enough encouragement for Vray to continue.

“
He liked lots of girls, all the time. Different girls. Every girl in Edian. I
’
m not exaggerating! Of course they liked him, too. The most handsome man in Rhenlan, with eyes the color of a midsummer sky at dusk, hair like ripe wheat, but smooth and flowing, shoulders wide as a door, narrow waist, strong thighs, and in between
….”
She thought of several possible descriptions, all of which Dael had blushed over when she
’
d tried the words on him. She decided she wanted Cyril
’
s attention, not her disapproval, and left those words unspoken.
“
Charming. The things he would say to flatter a girl! Meant them when he said them, too. Whichever girl he was with he loved the most. I always hated the way they
’
d smile at him on the street, and the way he
’
d smile back. All I wanted was for him to smile at me like that.

“
So I set about seducing him. It would have worked eventually, I know it. He was weakening, but I ran out of time. There was this inn he liked. Spent many off-duty nights there. One night, just before I was sent away, I put on a new dress and followed him there. It had an ample bodice, cut to reveal assets I really didn
’
t have.
”
She shook her head at the memory. Her maid had nearly fainted at the sight of her.

“
He looked. He laughed, but he did look. Then he dragged me home. Again. He was always doing that. I followed him back to the inn, and upstairs to a room. He was with a girl, of course. I stood and watched for a while. I think he knew I was there and let me stay. Sort of thing he
’
d do to try and prove a point. I dumped a pitcher of ale over them. The girl was furious, I think more over the ruined bedclothes than out of embarrassment. What did she care about me? I was just a skinny child. He cared. He blushed all over. Such lovely pink flesh.

“
He also got very angry. Made me clean up the mess and pay for the ale, while they went off to a different room. They locked the door that time. And after all he
’
d done over the years to further my education!
”
Vray sniffed, still affronted by that locked door.

The loom began to move steadily once more. Cyril watched her hands, then the shuttle, then scanned up along the cloth. Her expression had not changed, and her walnut-brown skin betrayed no hint of embarrassment.

Vray threaded her needle.
“
Of course, that was years ago,
”
she finished softly.
“
He
’
s probably fat and the father of three children by now. He really was too old for me, I suppose.
”

She would never believe that. She would never believe he could get fat, either. But it had been years ago. Even if he never changed, she had.

Well, she had talked. Even if she hadn
’
t entertained Cyril, she had enjoyed telling the story. Dael thought she should have been ashamed of her behavior that night, but she still thought it was funny. It was Cyril
’
s loss that she couldn
’
t appreciate it.

Vray pictured the bed, the girl
’
s hair soaked with pungent dark ale, and the livid shock on Dael
’
s face, the image fresh and vivid in her mind
’
s eye. She grinned. It was one of her fondest memories. She
’
d enjoyed it then, and she enjoyed it now.

Looking out the window she noticed that it had begun to snow, and wondered if it was too late to start baking a pie for dinner.

* * *

“
You left it till the last minute, didn
’
t you?
”

Tob, plodding along beside the wagon, looked up at the friendly hail. Their neighbor surveyed them from the other side of his stone fence. Jordy, walking a couple yards in front of Tob at Stockings
’
head, called back,
“
Have you nothing better to do than watch the road for us, then?
”

“
Don
’
t tell me Herri didn
’
t give you a piece of his mind.
”

“
I didn
’
t hear any complaints about the goods we brought.
”

“
You were lucky.
”

Jordy turned and walked backwards for a few paces, exchanging a smile and a rueful glance at the sky with Tob.
“
Aye,
”
he admitted.

Their neighbor laughed and waved them on before returning his attention to the fence he was mending. Tob took one hand out of his pocket long enough to pull his cloak snug at the neck. The snowflakes that drifted down from the iron gray sky were growing fatter and more frequent. It would be wonderful to get home and stay home. He hoped they never had such an arduous summer again.

Treating Broadford as the hub of a wheel and the other villages they visited as the tips of its spokes had served a purpose. Jordy
’
d managed to complete all of his pickups and deliveries and still return home frequently enough to at least begin to build a relationship with the newest member of the family. Stockings probably hadn
’
t even noticed the many extra miles she
’
d walked. Tob hadn
’
t much enjoyed the many nights of rough camping in miserable weather, nights which in a normal year they
’
d have spent safe and dry in some village inn, even at the cost of one or two days
’
delay. His father
’
s only real worry had been this final trip. Snow would have immobilized the wagon.

The bushes along the left edge of the road were brown and bare of leaves. Stockings swung through the opening in the hedge, lowering her head as she leaned into the harness to pull the wagon up the final slope into the yard. A dusting of snow clung to the roofs of the buildings, dim patches of white in the fading light. A gust of wind blew cold, damp flakes against his cheek. They were very lucky, all right!

Jordy threw open the stable doors. A delighted Matti leapt out of a pile of straw, dropped the kitten she
’
d been playing with, and squealed,
“
Daddy!
”
Pepper
’
s head appeared at the window of the goat shed, and a moment later she was pelting up the hill. The two children managed, just barely, to keep out from under foot as Tob and Jordy maneuvered Stockings and the wagon into the dry security of the stable.

Ignoring his younger sisters, Tob began unloading what little remained in the wagon, mostly spices and the durable thread his mother used in her weaving. Jumping to the ground, he gathered up a few empty sacks from the tailboard and started around the front of the wagon to put them away.