Nia tried not to drool as the baker’s wife wrapped the three-berry tart in broad leaves and tied them off with berry-purple string. Every baker in Cysgod wrapped their pastries in a different way, according to their place in the decennial baking competition. Awarded the coveted third-place purple ribbon by Lord Lewys himself, only the baker Iwan could wrap his pastries with purple string.

Iwan was a giant of a man, thick muscles bunching as he carried two bags of flour that were each bigger than Nia! His wife, Tesni was much shorter, and years of delicious baked goods had given her a warm, comfortable figure. Her round cheeks flushed red from the stifling heat in the bakery as she smiled at Nia.

“Good choice, they’re fresh today.”

Nia counted out ten copper pennies into the wooden offering dish. At the last second, she noticed that one had caked mud on it, likely dropped and picked up by one of her customers. The child swapped it out for one of the coins she was taking home, and gave Tesni a sheepish grin. The woman pretended not to have noticed, but Nia thought there was a faint twinkle in her eye. After all ten coins were assembled, looking small in the flat offering dish, they both said a brief prayer to Eurig, God of Merchants. Or rather, Tesni started to, while Nia mouthed along. The baker’s wife cracked a smile.

“Lost your voice again?”

Nia ducked her head and nodded, digging the toe of her weathered sandals into the mostly-even stone.

“That’s okay. I’m sure Eurig won’t mind if you just mouth along.”

She started again. When the last words echoed off the wooden walls, Tesni picked up the offering tray. One end of the tray was narrower than the other, so that it funneled coins into the woman’s coinpurse. She nodded to Nia, who picked up the tart with both hands as if it was a precious thing of spun glass. She bowed a thank you to the baker’s wife, who cracked a smile.

“Get going. You have a friend to feed. See you soon!”

Nia bobbed another short bow and ran from the oppressive heat of the bakery. Almost immediately, she tripped on the uneven cobbles of the street. She caught herself before she could fall on the tart, but that would have been bad. She almost lost it!

“Careful there!” Tesni called through the propped-open door. Nia sent her an apologetic smile and another short bow. The girl set off again.

She walked as quickly as she dared, weaving in and out of the busy pedestrian traffic on Hwyaden Street. Iwan’s bakery was close to the High Market Square, so Nia had a half-candle walk to her home.

A kid her age called out to her on the street.

“Nia! Hey! Nia!”

She recognized the boy and stopped to talk to him. The boy, Harri, spoke with wild gestures, forcing her to hold the pastry close to keep it safe.

“Nia! I missed you today! My dad needed my help with an order. So much sawing and sawing and shaving, and then the customer came in and said he didn’t even want it!” He let out a dramatic sigh and flung his arms wide. Harri was always like this. He wanted to be a bard, but his father would not have it. Nia made an exaggerated sad face and shrugged.

“Nia, what… ohhhh you went until you lost your voice again? That can’t be good for you.”

Nia just shrugged again. Harri’s father called for him, and the boy called over his shoulder for a moment, waving wildly.

“Look, I’ve gotta go. Are you going out tomorrow?”

Nia shook her head, then held her package close with one hand and held up three fingers.

“Three days?”

Nia nodded. Harri smiled and flung his arms wide, forcing Nia to step back to protect her prize. She forced a pout from forming on her face.

“I can’t wait! I’ll see you then!”

He turned and sprinted for his father’s workshop, nearly bowling over two people while Nia watched him. She carried on, hoping to avoid other people she knew.

As she crossed Awelan street, a sudden gust of wind almost blew Nia’s package from her hand. She clutched at it to keep hold on the wrapped pastry, tripped, and-

Just barely managed to not drop it, though she skinned her knee below the colourful patches of her dress. She bit back tears at the pain, and stopped for a moment. A passing woman was giving her an odd look, and Nia could understand that. Everyone knew the bakers’ packaging scheme, and the girl was protecting a pastry with all her might. True, it was from Iwan’s bakery, but the colours in the patches of Nia’s dress marked her as someone at least adjacent to wealth. Why would she dive to protect a parcel? Well, it was not just a pastry, was it?

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A distant grumble of thunder made Nia look up. Blustery late spring winds were ushering in darker clouds. If Nia did not hurry, the pastry would get soggy. Nia hurried onwards.

The estate of Lord Lewys sat at the center of Cysgod. Nia hurried past gardeners and groundskeepers, hoping not to get stopped by any of them. Her status within the household was… complicated, and she would rather not get stopped by another servant. Still, this was not the first or tenth time she had done this, and so she knew the habits of the household.

All she had to do was think like a thief. A reverse thief, who snuck into peoples’ houses and gave them pastry. A kindly swashbuckler thief from Morwen, come to give a poisoned pie to make Lord Lewys ill!

A lucky thief would come late on a day where rain threatened, so that the groundskeepers might be safe and dry in their cottage, the day’s work done. She would walk, not run! Walk, up the side of the garden as if she had every right to be there, so that a casual glance would not give her away. Running is how stupid thieves in stories always got caught. So, the clever thief walked.

A clever thief would peer around the corner of the kennel, to see which guard was posted at the root cellar that day.

A well-prepared thief would know that the guard Bryn was very new and very keen. He would always check out suspicious noises.

A very short thief would need to place her poisoned pie on the soft grass and jump up and down, waving her arms to catch the attention of the lord’s hounds.

A quick thief would pick up her pie and wait until Bryn was almost to the kennel to start dashing to the root-cellar door.

A quiet thief would open the door and slip in without banging the vertical doors.

A superb thief would be inside!

Nia panted, catching her breath after sprinting to the door.

Of course, a root cellar was barely inside the manor. It was the domain of scullery maids and kitchen staff, the air thick with the scent of salted meat and elderly potatoes. There were only three entrances. First, the doors through which she entered. Second, a ladder and trapdoor up into the pantry. Finally, and most importantly, the dumbwaiter.

Nia opened the wooden door and pulled the rope inside until the platform descended. She left her pastry on one of the shelves by the dumbwaiter and clambered up into the little moving cupboard. On the way in, she scraped her back along the bottom ledge and hissed in pain. She was getting too big to fit in there and would soon need to find a different way.

Nia anchored herself on the pulley rope and leaned way out of the dumbwaiter. She had a flash of deja-vu at the sensation but was too busy reaching for her bundle. She stretched and just managed to snatch her tart from the shelf, tucking it and all her limbs inside the small space.

She pulled the door shut and started to pull the dumbwaiter up.

Up and up and up she climbed, making sure to be absolutely silent as she passed the door to the kitchen, then the servants’ hall just outside the Lord’s study. Finally, after her small arms ached and she was panting for breath, Nia found herself outside the attic dumbwaiter door.

This was the most dangerous part of her journey. If she were caught here, she might not be able to come back for a long time, if ever. Nia tucked her blonde hair behind her ear and pressed her ear to the door.

Silence.

Still, she waited. Her nose itched and she dared not scratch it, in case she missed some small noise. Eventually, she whispered as loudly as she could.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!”

She leaned closer, pressing her ear to the door harder, as if that would make any difference. She heard soft footsteps, but could not tell if they were getting louder or softer. She gently tapped on the door, hoping for a response.

All of a sudden, the door swung open, sending Nia tumbling into the attic room. Nia could have gotten hurt, but she had a soft landing, courtesy of the girl who had opened the door. Nia picked herself up, mortified.

“Are you okay?” Nia whispered to the girl, while they detangled limbs and Nia frantically checked the other girl for obvious bruises. The other girl just hugged her, ignoring her bruises in favour of her friend.

“Hi Nia!” She whisper-shouted. “I missed you! Why are we whispering?”

Nia pulled a face. In the bakery or the crowded street, her whispers would have been inaudible. Here, in the silence of the well-furnished attic, every noise stood out clearly.

“I lost my voice again.”

The other girl pouted.

“That can’t be good for you. And how are you going to tell me stories if your voice is all gone?”

Nia ducked her head.

“Sorry Gwen. But it was worth it, look!”

Nia looked around for her package and deflated. The tumble had squashed it on one side.

“Oh.” Nia struggled to hold back her tears. She had worked so hard for the pastry, gotten it all the way here undamaged, only for it to get squashed at the very last step. Gwen just clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh, is that from Dyfan’s shop? No, purple ribbon, that must be Iwan, right? Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

She hugged Nia again, and Nia felt tears in her eyes of an entirely different sort. Gwen did not even seem to notice the damage. She released Nia, and then winced and ducked her head. When she spoke again, it was with a practiced polish.

“Ah! I mean to say that your gift is much appreciated, and I would be obliged if you would join me to partake in it?”

“Yes! Thank you for sharing!”

Gwen retrieved their stolen butter knife from the drawer in her desk while Nia untied the knot holding the bundle together. The two girls sat at Gwen’s little table, the surface area just large enough for one person to eat a meal. Gwen cut the tart down the middle, and they ate. Gwen forgot her refined manners and ate like Nia, both girls gobbling the sweet pastry and making little gormandizing groans.

When the pastry was gone, they licked their fingers to giggles, and it was only then that Gwen remembered her manners. She cringed, pulling out a handkerchief to belatedly wipe her hands.

To get Gwen’s mind off of whatever was bothering her, Nia pulled her by the hand to Gwen’s big bed, and they both flopped down on the soft covers to talk and dream.

“Nia, can you tell me Rapunzel again?”

While Nia whispered the story, they rolled onto their backs, surrounded by an aura of curly blonde and straight silver hair.