NaNoWriMo 2010 - Nov 5&6
I'm not really getting into this story, which is a huge shame, since it makes writing really hard. Yesterday (Nov 6) was half of my catch-up weekend, since I'm so far behind during the week. It's amazing how easy it is to write 2k, compared to writing 3 or 4k.
Stuff happened, and I'm trying to skip to the interesting parts, whatever they are. Astor isn't going to end up a major character anymore, I don't think, and Eydis is going to get introduced soon, since she's cool. And shapechangers, let's see if more magic=more interesting.
Nov 5: 107
Nov 6: 3883
Total: 7069
Astor nodded, and Aislin asked, “Why did you want a story?”
Astor shrugged again, and Aislin got the sinking suspicion that there was going to be a lot of that. Astor didn't seem particularly fond of people, or at least, not particularly fond of talking, which she supposed made sense in a hermit. However, Astor promptly surprised her by initiating a conversation.
“Why did you want to find me?”
“The farmers said you lived here and people didn't bother you much. I apologize for disturbing you, but I was looking for someplace that people wouldn't bother much.”
“Why?”
“Do you want the long story or the short story? The short story is that I made an enemy, and now I'm trying to get away from him. I saw something he wanted kept a secret, and I wasn't going to keep it a secret, and now he's trying to ensure it stays a secret. I don't know how far he's willing to go to keep me from telling anyone, but I also don't really want to find out.”
“The long story?”
Aislin paused, collecting her thoughts. “Where I come from, there's not much more people and towns than there are here, but it is larger. There's more people, larger towns, more farms and less forests. We're not an empire, or even a country, like you hear about in the south. We're just a bunch of people, trying to make our own way. If you look at history, we used to have a king, or maybe a queen. The stories say that was the glory days, when all the epic tales and legends come from, and the gods worked their hand in the daily life of the people and magic eased the lives of the people and created the magnificent things that we still hear stories about today. And then the empire came, and went, and left us the way we are, living and learning and enjoying life without an empire or the gods.
“That doesn't have much to do with me, except that Cahir liked the stories too much. He wants to return to the time when we were a country, when we were Tirhaine and prosperous and all the things I just told you about. He's doing a pretty good job of it, too. He has the people in his town inspired to follow him, and has sent messengers and visited all the nearer towns, and they like him too.
“I live - lived - in one of the towns near there. I've heard him speak, and he's very good at it. He's very convincing, and seems to actually care what happens to the people when he becomes king. Yes, he wants to be king. What else would a leader like that do? Want to unite the land under someone else's rule?
“He claims to have spoken to the spirits of our dead kings and queens, and they have chosen him to be their successor. He knows the old stories better than almost anyone else, and no one can refute his knowledge of what happened back then. He has even gotten the spirits to rouse themselves from their long sleep and show that they want him to be the next king. I've seen them, glowing around him and placing a spiritual crown on his head before crowds of awestruck people.
“The problem is, it's not real.” Here Aislin stopped and licked her lips nervously. “I know it's magic.
“I know, I know! Magic has been gone decades and it's not something ordinary people should play with in any case, and it's dangerous and was probably responsible for the fall of our country and abandonment by the empire and it's just kind of dirty. I've heard it all.” Aislin paused again, still staring at the table, memorizing the pattern of the wood, not looking up at Astor. “I know it's magic because I can do a little.”
Without waiting or looking up to see Astor's expression, she continued. “I met someone who could do magic. He was a bard, and he put on the most amazing shows. He never told anyone how he did it, just smiled coyly, and said 'It's a mystery' or 'The spirits have blessed me' or occasionally 'It's magic.'” Aislin smiled to herself. “He stayed at our house while he was in town, because we offered. I talked to him. We traded stories, though I wasn't very good at it. I think I learned something about storytelling from him.” She blushed. “I was you, he was worldly and experienced and charming and knew everything I didn't. I fell in love with him. But he is a bard, and he can't live in only one place. He gave me his ring, and promised to come back and visit and teach me and maybe one day take me away to join him on the road, traveling and trading tales with everyone we met. I'm sorry, this doesn't have anything to do with why I'm here. Well, not really.”
She glanced up at the taller woman across from her. To her surprise, Astor was still watching and waiting for her to continue. Not the expected disgust about her knowing magic, or having done something so silly and immature as fall in love with a wandering minstrel, just like all the stories told about. And if Aislin had learned anything about her host since the previous evening, it was that she liked stories of any sort.
Aislin continued. “He did come back, like he said, and teach me. He tried to teach me storytelling, but I was never very good at it. I couldn't remember the important details of the story, or I couldn't get the flow and the gestures, or I couldn't get the vocal projection, or something. I was plenty entertaining to my family, and even to the people in the closest town that liked to have someone sing or tell stories around the fire when we gathered, but not good enough to travel and get food and housing for it. I knew it, and so did Silas, and I knew that Silas knew, even though he tried not to let me know. Or maybe he was just subtle about it, I don't know.
“However, the magic I was good at. He only had a little of it, that he kept in a bag tucked under his clothes all the time, except during a show when he'd tuck it in his instruments and accessories. It was expensive, hard to find, hard to make. But he let me try it once, and it worked spectacularly. I practically set the orchard on fire, when all I was supposed to do was light a candle. Even he didn't know what to make of that. So he let me practice, and learn some, and taught me to read and brought me books and I read them and learned from them. I did much better there. I could remember things I'd read. Eventually, he let me help. I did a sprinkle of magic in the background of his performance. I made him glow, or his voice project, or twist the emotions of his audience to make them feel the story, or dramatic background effects. It was easy and rewarding, and gave me hope that I could make a bard after all, or at least be able to accompany one and be useful.
“It also meant that I know what magic looks like, even when I'm not casting it. So when Cahir had the spirits crown him king from the grave, I knew that it wasn't the spirits, it was just some magic. Later, I was in the inn with Silas, though he was out. Cahir was there too, with some of his followers. I passed by his room at the wrong moment, the door was ajar, I saw him practicing magic, trying to summon the spirits. I don't know if he knows it's not the spirits, just magic, or not. He noticed me, and we talked, then argued, and I told him it was just magic and I knew it wasn't the spirits at all. He didn't like that. The next day, when Silas and I were doing a performance for the townspeople, he showed up, and the spirits - the fake spirits, I mean - appeared and cursed us and called us traitors or some-such nonsense.
“Silas had to leave, since he depends on the goodwill of the townspeople to make his living. I went back to my family. One of my brothers is a huge follower of Cahir, and he didn't much like that I was a traitor now. My parents kept calm in the family, but I knew I didn't want to stay after that. I was afraid of what Cahir would do, since I had threatened to out him. He has ambition, and drive, and thinks he's doing good, and if the stories have taught me anything, it's that that's a dangerous combination. So I left. I figured I knew enough to travel on my own, since I'd learned from Silas. I wasn't as good as he is, but it was enough to early me here. I think this is far enough away that no one will bother me. You have snow so late in the year, I can't imagine anyone willingly following me up here.” Aislin trailed off, not quite sure where to end the story. She hadn't quite meant to tell that much, but Astor might be able to help her, and was extremely unlikely to be in cahoots with Cahir.
“Where are you going now?” Aislin looked at Astor, but her expression hadn't changed much since the start of her story.
“I don't know,” she said. “I'm away, which was what I wanted. I want to go back, if I can. Not yet. Maybe in a year or two. I'm not sure where to go in the mean time.”
No one spoke for a while. Aislin had nothing really to add. She hoped that she could stay with Astor. It was likely safe here, and warm. She could be useful, help the other woman... do whatever she did. She was Astor the Hermit, and the farmers told of her coming into town with small animal pelts and meat and other things that she got hunting. Aislin grew up on an orchard, and she knew how to tend to trees, not hunt. She could cook and clean and entertain. Or she could keep going, find somewhere else to travel to. It wasn't quite winter yet, though the snow on the ground seemed to disagree with that assessment. Maybe Astor could direct her somewhere else, if she couldn't take her in out of pity. It was pretty much the same plan she'd been working off of since she left home, though it was getting increasingly difficult as people became sparser.
Astor seemed to think along the same lines. “You cannot stay here. I do not have enough food to last until spring comes and the snow melts. I can direct you to the mountain people. They may take you in for the winter.”
Well. Expected, though she had still hoped to stay here, since it was the first place she'd found that was far enough away to feel safe, yet still feel a bit like home. Aislin nodded her assent to this plan.
“They should pass by here in the next week. I will ask them to take you with them.”
“Wait, you know them? You know them well enough to ask them a favor like that? How do you know that they will come by soon?”
Astor shrugged. “I have been here some time. They come by every year. I trade with them.”
It was a very long week, in Aislin's opinion. Astor rarely spoke, except when addressed or to facilitate something practical. It was far too cold to go outside, in her opinion, though Astor seemed not to have a problem with it, giving her long stretches of time with nothing to do. The cabin was tiny, and there was little to do. It only took her a short while to clean up, and cooking for two wasn't very hard, even if everything was bland, flavorless and over salted, in her opinion. One thing she did enjoy was the meat - Astor had no shortage of dried meat and frozen meat and new types of meat.
She also discovered that she really had been too tired the night she arrived. The cabin was about twice as big from the outside as from the inside, primarily because the other half was occupied by a hawk. Astor called it a mews, and it kept the bird warm and safe from prowling animals. It was where the mysterious door lead to, and Astor frequently went between the house, the mews and the outdoors. She forbade Aislin from going in the mews, and when pressed said that it would scare Ruby. Aislin didn't understand the name, since as far as she could tell the bird was brown white.
By mid afternoon on the first day, Aislin ventured outdoors, having heard the door to the mews open and close. Astor was outside with Ruby, and despite her shivering, she had to admit that they looked impressive together. Astor was as heavily garbed as she was, with a thick leather glove on her right arm. Ruby was perched there, her dark reddish tail facing Aislin.
Astor looked at Aislin. “I will be back in a couple hours with food.” Turning back to her bird, she lifted her arm in the air and Ruby took off. Her wings were nearly as wide as Astor was tall, and she threw up puffs of snow from the ground with each flap. In an amazingly short amount of time, she was circling the trees above their heads.
“You should go inside before you freeze,” Astor told her, then disappeared into the forest.
Aislin sighed, went back inside, and grumbled about having gotten all bundled up for a minute outside. She had never been good at waiting. Staring around the empty cabin, she sighed and dug out one of the few books she had brought with her. It was a heavy tome, and obtuse, but detailed on magic. She hadn't read it yet, because of its length and difficulty, but it seemed she had no choice now. With a sigh, she opened it to her bookmark and started reading, frowning as she went.
She was still buried in her book, trying fiercely to stave off boredom, a week later when Astor came in with someone else. She had gotten used to Astor coming in and out, doing whatever she did, often something that had to do with her bird, and didn't lift her head. She was almost understanding this passage, which was good, since it was only the dozenth time she'd read it in the past week. It just didn't quite make sense, based on what she knew and what she'd done.
“You want her to join us?” a new voice asked from the doorway.
Aislin jerked her head up. As usual, the stranger was wrapped up in warm clothes, though these looked better made than Astor's clearly handmade stuff. The stranger was shorter than Astor, more Aislin's height, with brown hair and eyes nearly the same color, and darker, almost tanned, skin.
Aislin stood up and, unsure what the proper gesture of respect was since she wasn't wearing skirts, bowed. “I would request to join you for the winter,” she said, as politely as she could. The mountain people valued politeness and formality, if she went by the stories.
The stranger raised an eyebrow, and Aislin noticed it was lighter than the hair curling around her chin. “Polite, at least,” she commented to Astor. “Do you know how to hunt? Weave? Sew? Tell stories?”
Aislin shook her head, then perked up. “I spent some time with a bard, and learned from him,” she said. “My family has an orchard, so I know how to take care of fruit trees and how to keep a house and horses and chickens, but not hunt or weave.”
“Why do you want to join us for the winter?”
“I do not feel safe returning to my home for a year or so. I made an enemy by learning his secret and he does not want me sharing it.”
The stranger nodded. “If you wish to join us for the winter, you may. We must travel quickly to make it home before the winter storms set in, and we will not delay for you. Are you ready to go?”
Aislin nodded. “I need half an hour.” True to her word, half an hour later she strapped her small package of belongings onto a sled, stepped back and nodded to the young man standing in front of it. He smiled back at her.
She turned to say goodbye to Astor. She'd only known her a week, and hadn't really gotten to know her. She'd told a story every night at Astor's request, but the taciturn woman spent most of her time outdoors or elsewhere.
“Thank you,” Aislin told her, sincerely. “I do not know where I would have gone if you hadn't helped me.”
Astor nodded and gestured to the stranger, who seemed impatient to go, and indeed, took that as readiness to leave. With a shout, the group of nearly two dozen people started northeast again, half of them shouldering the ropes to sleds, packed high with packages.
Aislin fell in step with the impatient stranger, primarily because she was the only one that she'd talked to previously. “How long will it take to get to your home?” she asked.
“If we're lucky, a week. If not, then two or three or months. We were delayed coming north by troubles in the south.” She frowned angrily, clearly recalling the troubles, then continued. “We shall pray to STORMGODDESS and Senka to hold off their wrath a little bit longer.”
They were in luck, or their prayers worked, for it was only slightly over a week later that Dagny - the impatient stranger - stopped as they came around a turn in the path and pointed downwards. “Home,” she said. “Your home for the winter, as well.” Aislin looked, and saw a bunch of tents and huts. Smoke trailed upwards from their roofs, and small figures bustled around, indistinguishable from this distance even if she had known any of them. It didn't look all that well sheltered from the cold, but I they had been here as long as they said they had, then it must be warm. She hoped it was at least as warm as Astor's cabin, if not more so. The past week of travel had all but frozen her to death, and she wasn't sure that she had been properly warm since she left Astor's fire. She had daydreamed about home, where snow was a rarity, for a good part of the last week.
Pulling her own sled now, traded off with Dagny, she followed the other woman down the valley's edge and into the village. They were hailed with joyous shouts by the people that saw them coming, and it seemed like a festival had come early by their reaction. People swarmed around, exchanging hugs and greetings and unpacking the sleds and carrying the contents away to other buildings and returning to get another load and children ran around underfoot, some helping, others distracting. It was chaos, and Aislin had no idea what she was supposed to do. She stood there, holding on to the lead of the sled, and watching everyone run around and do things. Dagny had disappeared in the confusion.
The sleds were all empty when Dagny reappeared. “You can come with me,” she said, grabbing her arm and tugging. “Bring the sled, we'll put it away in the main building.” Aislin did as told, leaning the sled against the outside of the largest building in the village. It was made of wood, with a steep slanted roof. Dagny led her through the door into another scene of confusion. Now she knew where most of the good she'd pulled across the country had ended up, and she had a chance to see what some of them looked like.
Paper was the one that surprised her the most, since she didn't think they would have any use for it. Wood, too, surprised her. Bows and arrows. Clothing, not made of skins but of fabrics, wool and cotton and other softer, prettier, decorated pieces. Practical things, like pots and cutlery and knives and other tools. And trinkets, little charms and toys and instruments and anything else bright and shiny that would amuse children.
Again, she stood helpless and uncertain until Dagny pulled her after her. “Here, help me divide these up. Aislin ended up with the trinkets piles. Clusters at a time, people came up and ask for this or that trinket, often with children clamoring at their heels. Aislin didn't know what most of them were, but Dagny seemed to, and Aislin just followed her lead as best she could. By the end of it, she knew the names of most of the toys, if not the names of any of the people.
She also hadn't missed the looks that people gave her. Dagny had brown hair, brown eyes, and light brown skin. So, apparently, did everyone else in her tribe. Aislin had red hair, green eyes and skin that was several shades lighter than theirs, with freckles. She both looked and felt like the stranger she was, and didn't much like the feeling, nor the constant confusion. She wished Silas was here. He would likely know what to do, since he'd traveled and always seemed to have a calm and poise about him that Aislin had never been able to master. Suddenly she was aware just how far away from home she was, and that she didn't know anyone here, not really. It was not a pleasant sensation, and made her want to curl up somewhere warm and cry, and wish that she was at home.
She was looking around for a dark corner to do that in when Dagny showed up again, ever-present companion. “You can stay at our tent tonight, unless you want to stay here. After that, you can stay with anyone who offers you their home. You'll probably end up moving around a quite a bit, since no one has much free space right now. Zdravko has space in her tent for you, but she had a son recently, so you probably don't want to stay there. I don't think he's sleeping through the night yet.”
Aislin nodded and waited for Dagny to turn away. She took a deep breath, mentally tamped down her desire to cry and run away to home, and followed the brown haired woman. She would get through this. She wasn't sure how, or why, but she would.
It was all as confusing as she had feared, though. No one spoke quite right, and she discovered that what she thought was a very strong accent, was either an accent stronger than she thought, or another language altogether. Dagny seemed to be able to switch between intelligible and not, and every time Aislin opened her mouth to talk to someone, she seemed to get the words all wrong, since no one seemed to be able to understand her without Aislin having to repeat herself four or five times. The saving grace was that everyone seemed willing to help her, even if they got frustrated with her inability to speak back to them.
Stuff happened, and I'm trying to skip to the interesting parts, whatever they are. Astor isn't going to end up a major character anymore, I don't think, and Eydis is going to get introduced soon, since she's cool. And shapechangers, let's see if more magic=more interesting.
Nov 5: 107
Nov 6: 3883
Total: 7069
Astor nodded, and Aislin asked, “Why did you want a story?”
Astor shrugged again, and Aislin got the sinking suspicion that there was going to be a lot of that. Astor didn't seem particularly fond of people, or at least, not particularly fond of talking, which she supposed made sense in a hermit. However, Astor promptly surprised her by initiating a conversation.
“Why did you want to find me?”
“The farmers said you lived here and people didn't bother you much. I apologize for disturbing you, but I was looking for someplace that people wouldn't bother much.”
“Why?”
“Do you want the long story or the short story? The short story is that I made an enemy, and now I'm trying to get away from him. I saw something he wanted kept a secret, and I wasn't going to keep it a secret, and now he's trying to ensure it stays a secret. I don't know how far he's willing to go to keep me from telling anyone, but I also don't really want to find out.”
“The long story?”
Aislin paused, collecting her thoughts. “Where I come from, there's not much more people and towns than there are here, but it is larger. There's more people, larger towns, more farms and less forests. We're not an empire, or even a country, like you hear about in the south. We're just a bunch of people, trying to make our own way. If you look at history, we used to have a king, or maybe a queen. The stories say that was the glory days, when all the epic tales and legends come from, and the gods worked their hand in the daily life of the people and magic eased the lives of the people and created the magnificent things that we still hear stories about today. And then the empire came, and went, and left us the way we are, living and learning and enjoying life without an empire or the gods.
“That doesn't have much to do with me, except that Cahir liked the stories too much. He wants to return to the time when we were a country, when we were Tirhaine and prosperous and all the things I just told you about. He's doing a pretty good job of it, too. He has the people in his town inspired to follow him, and has sent messengers and visited all the nearer towns, and they like him too.
“I live - lived - in one of the towns near there. I've heard him speak, and he's very good at it. He's very convincing, and seems to actually care what happens to the people when he becomes king. Yes, he wants to be king. What else would a leader like that do? Want to unite the land under someone else's rule?
“He claims to have spoken to the spirits of our dead kings and queens, and they have chosen him to be their successor. He knows the old stories better than almost anyone else, and no one can refute his knowledge of what happened back then. He has even gotten the spirits to rouse themselves from their long sleep and show that they want him to be the next king. I've seen them, glowing around him and placing a spiritual crown on his head before crowds of awestruck people.
“The problem is, it's not real.” Here Aislin stopped and licked her lips nervously. “I know it's magic.
“I know, I know! Magic has been gone decades and it's not something ordinary people should play with in any case, and it's dangerous and was probably responsible for the fall of our country and abandonment by the empire and it's just kind of dirty. I've heard it all.” Aislin paused again, still staring at the table, memorizing the pattern of the wood, not looking up at Astor. “I know it's magic because I can do a little.”
Without waiting or looking up to see Astor's expression, she continued. “I met someone who could do magic. He was a bard, and he put on the most amazing shows. He never told anyone how he did it, just smiled coyly, and said 'It's a mystery' or 'The spirits have blessed me' or occasionally 'It's magic.'” Aislin smiled to herself. “He stayed at our house while he was in town, because we offered. I talked to him. We traded stories, though I wasn't very good at it. I think I learned something about storytelling from him.” She blushed. “I was you, he was worldly and experienced and charming and knew everything I didn't. I fell in love with him. But he is a bard, and he can't live in only one place. He gave me his ring, and promised to come back and visit and teach me and maybe one day take me away to join him on the road, traveling and trading tales with everyone we met. I'm sorry, this doesn't have anything to do with why I'm here. Well, not really.”
She glanced up at the taller woman across from her. To her surprise, Astor was still watching and waiting for her to continue. Not the expected disgust about her knowing magic, or having done something so silly and immature as fall in love with a wandering minstrel, just like all the stories told about. And if Aislin had learned anything about her host since the previous evening, it was that she liked stories of any sort.
Aislin continued. “He did come back, like he said, and teach me. He tried to teach me storytelling, but I was never very good at it. I couldn't remember the important details of the story, or I couldn't get the flow and the gestures, or I couldn't get the vocal projection, or something. I was plenty entertaining to my family, and even to the people in the closest town that liked to have someone sing or tell stories around the fire when we gathered, but not good enough to travel and get food and housing for it. I knew it, and so did Silas, and I knew that Silas knew, even though he tried not to let me know. Or maybe he was just subtle about it, I don't know.
“However, the magic I was good at. He only had a little of it, that he kept in a bag tucked under his clothes all the time, except during a show when he'd tuck it in his instruments and accessories. It was expensive, hard to find, hard to make. But he let me try it once, and it worked spectacularly. I practically set the orchard on fire, when all I was supposed to do was light a candle. Even he didn't know what to make of that. So he let me practice, and learn some, and taught me to read and brought me books and I read them and learned from them. I did much better there. I could remember things I'd read. Eventually, he let me help. I did a sprinkle of magic in the background of his performance. I made him glow, or his voice project, or twist the emotions of his audience to make them feel the story, or dramatic background effects. It was easy and rewarding, and gave me hope that I could make a bard after all, or at least be able to accompany one and be useful.
“It also meant that I know what magic looks like, even when I'm not casting it. So when Cahir had the spirits crown him king from the grave, I knew that it wasn't the spirits, it was just some magic. Later, I was in the inn with Silas, though he was out. Cahir was there too, with some of his followers. I passed by his room at the wrong moment, the door was ajar, I saw him practicing magic, trying to summon the spirits. I don't know if he knows it's not the spirits, just magic, or not. He noticed me, and we talked, then argued, and I told him it was just magic and I knew it wasn't the spirits at all. He didn't like that. The next day, when Silas and I were doing a performance for the townspeople, he showed up, and the spirits - the fake spirits, I mean - appeared and cursed us and called us traitors or some-such nonsense.
“Silas had to leave, since he depends on the goodwill of the townspeople to make his living. I went back to my family. One of my brothers is a huge follower of Cahir, and he didn't much like that I was a traitor now. My parents kept calm in the family, but I knew I didn't want to stay after that. I was afraid of what Cahir would do, since I had threatened to out him. He has ambition, and drive, and thinks he's doing good, and if the stories have taught me anything, it's that that's a dangerous combination. So I left. I figured I knew enough to travel on my own, since I'd learned from Silas. I wasn't as good as he is, but it was enough to early me here. I think this is far enough away that no one will bother me. You have snow so late in the year, I can't imagine anyone willingly following me up here.” Aislin trailed off, not quite sure where to end the story. She hadn't quite meant to tell that much, but Astor might be able to help her, and was extremely unlikely to be in cahoots with Cahir.
“Where are you going now?” Aislin looked at Astor, but her expression hadn't changed much since the start of her story.
“I don't know,” she said. “I'm away, which was what I wanted. I want to go back, if I can. Not yet. Maybe in a year or two. I'm not sure where to go in the mean time.”
No one spoke for a while. Aislin had nothing really to add. She hoped that she could stay with Astor. It was likely safe here, and warm. She could be useful, help the other woman... do whatever she did. She was Astor the Hermit, and the farmers told of her coming into town with small animal pelts and meat and other things that she got hunting. Aislin grew up on an orchard, and she knew how to tend to trees, not hunt. She could cook and clean and entertain. Or she could keep going, find somewhere else to travel to. It wasn't quite winter yet, though the snow on the ground seemed to disagree with that assessment. Maybe Astor could direct her somewhere else, if she couldn't take her in out of pity. It was pretty much the same plan she'd been working off of since she left home, though it was getting increasingly difficult as people became sparser.
Astor seemed to think along the same lines. “You cannot stay here. I do not have enough food to last until spring comes and the snow melts. I can direct you to the mountain people. They may take you in for the winter.”
Well. Expected, though she had still hoped to stay here, since it was the first place she'd found that was far enough away to feel safe, yet still feel a bit like home. Aislin nodded her assent to this plan.
“They should pass by here in the next week. I will ask them to take you with them.”
“Wait, you know them? You know them well enough to ask them a favor like that? How do you know that they will come by soon?”
Astor shrugged. “I have been here some time. They come by every year. I trade with them.”
It was a very long week, in Aislin's opinion. Astor rarely spoke, except when addressed or to facilitate something practical. It was far too cold to go outside, in her opinion, though Astor seemed not to have a problem with it, giving her long stretches of time with nothing to do. The cabin was tiny, and there was little to do. It only took her a short while to clean up, and cooking for two wasn't very hard, even if everything was bland, flavorless and over salted, in her opinion. One thing she did enjoy was the meat - Astor had no shortage of dried meat and frozen meat and new types of meat.
She also discovered that she really had been too tired the night she arrived. The cabin was about twice as big from the outside as from the inside, primarily because the other half was occupied by a hawk. Astor called it a mews, and it kept the bird warm and safe from prowling animals. It was where the mysterious door lead to, and Astor frequently went between the house, the mews and the outdoors. She forbade Aislin from going in the mews, and when pressed said that it would scare Ruby. Aislin didn't understand the name, since as far as she could tell the bird was brown white.
By mid afternoon on the first day, Aislin ventured outdoors, having heard the door to the mews open and close. Astor was outside with Ruby, and despite her shivering, she had to admit that they looked impressive together. Astor was as heavily garbed as she was, with a thick leather glove on her right arm. Ruby was perched there, her dark reddish tail facing Aislin.
Astor looked at Aislin. “I will be back in a couple hours with food.” Turning back to her bird, she lifted her arm in the air and Ruby took off. Her wings were nearly as wide as Astor was tall, and she threw up puffs of snow from the ground with each flap. In an amazingly short amount of time, she was circling the trees above their heads.
“You should go inside before you freeze,” Astor told her, then disappeared into the forest.
Aislin sighed, went back inside, and grumbled about having gotten all bundled up for a minute outside. She had never been good at waiting. Staring around the empty cabin, she sighed and dug out one of the few books she had brought with her. It was a heavy tome, and obtuse, but detailed on magic. She hadn't read it yet, because of its length and difficulty, but it seemed she had no choice now. With a sigh, she opened it to her bookmark and started reading, frowning as she went.
She was still buried in her book, trying fiercely to stave off boredom, a week later when Astor came in with someone else. She had gotten used to Astor coming in and out, doing whatever she did, often something that had to do with her bird, and didn't lift her head. She was almost understanding this passage, which was good, since it was only the dozenth time she'd read it in the past week. It just didn't quite make sense, based on what she knew and what she'd done.
“You want her to join us?” a new voice asked from the doorway.
Aislin jerked her head up. As usual, the stranger was wrapped up in warm clothes, though these looked better made than Astor's clearly handmade stuff. The stranger was shorter than Astor, more Aislin's height, with brown hair and eyes nearly the same color, and darker, almost tanned, skin.
Aislin stood up and, unsure what the proper gesture of respect was since she wasn't wearing skirts, bowed. “I would request to join you for the winter,” she said, as politely as she could. The mountain people valued politeness and formality, if she went by the stories.
The stranger raised an eyebrow, and Aislin noticed it was lighter than the hair curling around her chin. “Polite, at least,” she commented to Astor. “Do you know how to hunt? Weave? Sew? Tell stories?”
Aislin shook her head, then perked up. “I spent some time with a bard, and learned from him,” she said. “My family has an orchard, so I know how to take care of fruit trees and how to keep a house and horses and chickens, but not hunt or weave.”
“Why do you want to join us for the winter?”
“I do not feel safe returning to my home for a year or so. I made an enemy by learning his secret and he does not want me sharing it.”
The stranger nodded. “If you wish to join us for the winter, you may. We must travel quickly to make it home before the winter storms set in, and we will not delay for you. Are you ready to go?”
Aislin nodded. “I need half an hour.” True to her word, half an hour later she strapped her small package of belongings onto a sled, stepped back and nodded to the young man standing in front of it. He smiled back at her.
She turned to say goodbye to Astor. She'd only known her a week, and hadn't really gotten to know her. She'd told a story every night at Astor's request, but the taciturn woman spent most of her time outdoors or elsewhere.
“Thank you,” Aislin told her, sincerely. “I do not know where I would have gone if you hadn't helped me.”
Astor nodded and gestured to the stranger, who seemed impatient to go, and indeed, took that as readiness to leave. With a shout, the group of nearly two dozen people started northeast again, half of them shouldering the ropes to sleds, packed high with packages.
Aislin fell in step with the impatient stranger, primarily because she was the only one that she'd talked to previously. “How long will it take to get to your home?” she asked.
“If we're lucky, a week. If not, then two or three or months. We were delayed coming north by troubles in the south.” She frowned angrily, clearly recalling the troubles, then continued. “We shall pray to STORMGODDESS and Senka to hold off their wrath a little bit longer.”
They were in luck, or their prayers worked, for it was only slightly over a week later that Dagny - the impatient stranger - stopped as they came around a turn in the path and pointed downwards. “Home,” she said. “Your home for the winter, as well.” Aislin looked, and saw a bunch of tents and huts. Smoke trailed upwards from their roofs, and small figures bustled around, indistinguishable from this distance even if she had known any of them. It didn't look all that well sheltered from the cold, but I they had been here as long as they said they had, then it must be warm. She hoped it was at least as warm as Astor's cabin, if not more so. The past week of travel had all but frozen her to death, and she wasn't sure that she had been properly warm since she left Astor's fire. She had daydreamed about home, where snow was a rarity, for a good part of the last week.
Pulling her own sled now, traded off with Dagny, she followed the other woman down the valley's edge and into the village. They were hailed with joyous shouts by the people that saw them coming, and it seemed like a festival had come early by their reaction. People swarmed around, exchanging hugs and greetings and unpacking the sleds and carrying the contents away to other buildings and returning to get another load and children ran around underfoot, some helping, others distracting. It was chaos, and Aislin had no idea what she was supposed to do. She stood there, holding on to the lead of the sled, and watching everyone run around and do things. Dagny had disappeared in the confusion.
The sleds were all empty when Dagny reappeared. “You can come with me,” she said, grabbing her arm and tugging. “Bring the sled, we'll put it away in the main building.” Aislin did as told, leaning the sled against the outside of the largest building in the village. It was made of wood, with a steep slanted roof. Dagny led her through the door into another scene of confusion. Now she knew where most of the good she'd pulled across the country had ended up, and she had a chance to see what some of them looked like.
Paper was the one that surprised her the most, since she didn't think they would have any use for it. Wood, too, surprised her. Bows and arrows. Clothing, not made of skins but of fabrics, wool and cotton and other softer, prettier, decorated pieces. Practical things, like pots and cutlery and knives and other tools. And trinkets, little charms and toys and instruments and anything else bright and shiny that would amuse children.
Again, she stood helpless and uncertain until Dagny pulled her after her. “Here, help me divide these up. Aislin ended up with the trinkets piles. Clusters at a time, people came up and ask for this or that trinket, often with children clamoring at their heels. Aislin didn't know what most of them were, but Dagny seemed to, and Aislin just followed her lead as best she could. By the end of it, she knew the names of most of the toys, if not the names of any of the people.
She also hadn't missed the looks that people gave her. Dagny had brown hair, brown eyes, and light brown skin. So, apparently, did everyone else in her tribe. Aislin had red hair, green eyes and skin that was several shades lighter than theirs, with freckles. She both looked and felt like the stranger she was, and didn't much like the feeling, nor the constant confusion. She wished Silas was here. He would likely know what to do, since he'd traveled and always seemed to have a calm and poise about him that Aislin had never been able to master. Suddenly she was aware just how far away from home she was, and that she didn't know anyone here, not really. It was not a pleasant sensation, and made her want to curl up somewhere warm and cry, and wish that she was at home.
She was looking around for a dark corner to do that in when Dagny showed up again, ever-present companion. “You can stay at our tent tonight, unless you want to stay here. After that, you can stay with anyone who offers you their home. You'll probably end up moving around a quite a bit, since no one has much free space right now. Zdravko has space in her tent for you, but she had a son recently, so you probably don't want to stay there. I don't think he's sleeping through the night yet.”
Aislin nodded and waited for Dagny to turn away. She took a deep breath, mentally tamped down her desire to cry and run away to home, and followed the brown haired woman. She would get through this. She wasn't sure how, or why, but she would.
It was all as confusing as she had feared, though. No one spoke quite right, and she discovered that what she thought was a very strong accent, was either an accent stronger than she thought, or another language altogether. Dagny seemed to be able to switch between intelligible and not, and every time Aislin opened her mouth to talk to someone, she seemed to get the words all wrong, since no one seemed to be able to understand her without Aislin having to repeat herself four or five times. The saving grace was that everyone seemed willing to help her, even if they got frustrated with her inability to speak back to them.