PART FORTY-ONE:
Burning wood and woody ventures:
Smoking embers sputtered, before dying down. Littering soft and light ashes on the floor. To any untrained eye, it was just burnt debris waiting to be discarded or removed. But to the sorceress, it was a readable and quick source of information. Cupping her two hands, she scraped and scooped the scattered soot together. Forming a small heap, the size of her fist. Then she pressed down the make-shift hill and spread it out again. When the ashy distribution was extended to her satisfaction, she began to study it intently. A few more re-arrangements of the powdery spread and she had the information that she needed. At least some of it she did.
She had to find the girl and quick. Right now, it appeared she was in a wooded area. Running free in the wild. About to engage in a war, that her young innocent mind could not begin to conceive. She was about to make a move, that only her and a few others like her could attempt. The witch looked around the coven hastily. She had carelessly flung her shawl somewhere, when she walked in from the outside the day before. She located it within minutes, hanging loosely on the arm of her favorite chair. Grabbing the protective wrap, she covered her head and shoulders. Before walking out of the house, she diligently stumped out the remaining glow on the burnt wood. There was no point, coming back to a flame consumed hut. Now all that was left to do, was to figure out the shortest, quickest and of course the most inconspicuous route to the woods.
Much I think about me and myself:
The metal-smith’s family was highly abuzz with excitement, due to the royal invitation. They prepared, planned and rehearsed their expected conduct. Though they were fairly known and respected in the town. Never had such an honor been extended to them and/or the likes of them. Even more notable and commendable, was the fact that the older daughter’s behavior and hospitality. Had not only been recognized and complimented, but undoubtedly played a great part in this request of attendance. Her father was very proud and pleased indeed.
The younger sister however, was beside herself in avid preparation. She had always admired anything that promised, or had the possibility of being ostentatious and posh. She often spoke of having dreams of a grand and lavish lifestyle. Such opulence, that none eligible in their town could provide. So she had decided, to take her business across borders. Then suddenly, out of nowhere. The most eligible of them all. The less attainable, of all candidates. Had come knocking at her door step. She wondered if they had heard of her and her beauty. Or maybe somehow drove by and saw her in an open place. She flushed inwardly at such a thought. She knew she turned heads more often than she could handle. A knowledge, others were reluctant to divulge or discuss with her. It was beginning to seem like, she had not been fully aware of how effective and powerful her good looks were.
The younger woman, even went as far as to cancel her previously scheduled trip. This was the same week she had planned to go and spend a period of time in the neighboring town. Her aunt who lived there, was more than willing to have her. That one had moved away from family and friends, when she got married. So anyone from her hometown, was welcome to fill her nostalgic cravings. Anyone, including a chatter-box and vain niece. It appeared now to the younger woman, that there might eventually be no need for that relocation.
Her older sister’s approach to the friendly royal summons however, was more subdued and one of intrigue. When her mother and sister went in search of and to purchase new clothes and apparel, she declined their invitation to join in. She did not understand what the fuss was all about anyway. After all, the king had only been impressed by good conduct. He was grateful for the hospitality and service that he received, not the way everyone looked at the time.
It was amazing how her mother and sister, had turned it into a circus. Why were they so focused on superficial and trivial issues. She did not want to be bothered by the unnecessary hyperactivity. Meanwhile, she conveniently retreated into her simple and quiet world. Spending most of her days, in the workshop as usual. Making the most of her time. As best she knew how, in the days leading up to the palatial visit. She would Ignore her sister’s exuberance and preparation. A concert that was being played out, like she had received a personal summon. Going as far as telling everyone who would listen. That she had been invited by the prince, to the royal castle.
At the gates of confusion and confrontation:
“Let me handle this,” declared Rifra loudly. As soon as he showed up at the scene, causing all eyes to immediately turn to him.
“Handle what?” Retorted the security guard who had been pushed initially by Ashea.
“Oh thank goodness, Han….”
“Please be quiet.” The housekeeper moved quickly and angrily, to silence an initially relieved and now bewildered woman. “Can you just be quiet for a minute?” He ventured to implore her with a softer tone as she stared wide-eyed and frozen in place.
“I can take her away now.” He turned to speak to the three glowering and antsy guards. Settling his gaze, especially on the one with the weapon.
“Why? Do you know this truant?” The second guard asked, looking from the housekeeper to the woman. Meanwhile, two servants walked by. Lowering their pace, to gawk at what was going on. But Rifra saw and waved them away almost immediately. Wearing a stern and warning look.
“I am not a tru….” Ashea started to speak again.
“Pleeease, What did I just ask of you?” An exasperated Rifra interrupted, shutting her down once more. “Please be quiet,” he reiterated. Then he turned back to the waiting and watching guards to complete his explanation.
“Yes, I know who she is. She used to work with us. I will find out what brought her back, and try to take care of it.
“She used to work in this palace?” One of the guards questioned, turning to eye the now silent object of discussion.
“Yes, she used to.” The housekeeper began again. “She worked at housekeeping and then briefly for her majesty the queen.”
One of the guards gasped and then chuckled before speaking. “How is it, that such an ill-mannered woman was allowed in the presence of her royal majesty. Someone must not have been doing their work right.”
“That must have been Methus,” a fourth guard interjected. “So unlike what his work ethics had been.” He finished as the other guards nodded.
“She was fine, at the time of her employment. We think she must have taken ill.” A defiant Rifra supplied.
“Well whatever be the case, please remove her from these premises right away.” Countered the second guard.
“Will do.” Agreed Rifra, as he turned to lead away a now protesting Ashea. “Where are you taking me?” She demanded, trying to free her arm from her husband’s firm grasp. “Did you or did you not go to war? And if you did, when did you get back. How come I never knew, that you had returned. Why are you even in the palace?”
“Are you going to answer me or not?!” She screamed, as they headed outside the royal compound. The high, huge and wrought iron gates closing behind them.
Keeping up with the unknown:
“Did you try out the two dresses I gave you?” Slaia’s mother asked. The Festival/Fair was in two days and grand preparations, were in full swing all around.
“I did.” Answered the girl, a tad bit sullenly.
“And.” Inquired the mother further, not sure what brought about the look of misery.
“I think I might need a new one.” Answered the girl, tight-lipped and head down.
“Why do you think, you might need a new one?” Her mother asked again, eye brows raised questioningly. “These are perfectly nice dresses. And I know they are your size. They should fit.”
The girl was silent, her head still lowered.
“I just asked you a question. Or did I not?” The woman queried. Feeling surprised at the unexpected reaction.
“It’s just that other girls are getting new dresses.” Replied the girl with a pout.
“And by other girls, you mean Manipa and Envila right?” The woman asked. The girl only nodded, still petulant.
“And how are they getting those new dresses? Are they now making money? A job maybe? Their wealthy parents?” Still silence.
“I mean I know Envila helps her mother, every now and then, with the hair place.” She shrugged again and chuckled this time. “But to get new dresses, just because….” She paused and shook her head in disbelief, still looking at her daughter.
“Manipa is definitely getting a new dress.” The girl half mumbled her speech.
“She is, isn’t she,” countered her mother sarcastically. “And how is that? Is it possible that you could let me in on that secret?”
“Her mother is getting her a new dress, for the Festival/Fair.”
“Which mother exactly? The same one I know?”
The girl nodded, finally raising her head. Just in time to see her mother’s shoulder shaking from laughter, before she even heard any sound.
“She might get a new dress alright.” Started the woman. “But it will not be from her mother. At least, not the one I know.”
She continued to laugh, even louder.
.