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Mother 13) Ribbons and String

Mother 13) Ribbons and String

13) Ribbons and string

The path thawed just in time for the Spring Fair in the large village below. Folk would travel from smaller villages all over the surrounding county to trade and feast and gossip, and even the Giant came down from his home in the clouds to celebrate the thaw and the crops to come. Bronwyn dressed that morning in the blue dress Grahme had given her the day the prince was born, and wove her midnight hair with a posey of delicate blue and pink flowers that the peasant girls called heaven. Grahme smiled at the sight of her and put the last bundle of carvings into the packs they would carry down the mountain. Bronwyn had her own basket of soaps and remedies in small jars and parchment envelopes. They would sell some of what they carried, and trade or gift other pieces.

Bronwyn felt strange, walking into the village at Grahme's side, and felt the slightest tug of purpose. The glances of the village folk were curious and friendly, and more than one goodman or goodwife smiled at them. As they came into the central square, Bronwyn saw Gretchen setting out her own winter's projects, aprons and dresses and shirts. The older woman turned and smiled, delighted, as she saw them. She came out of her stall and hugged them both in turn. As she'd promise Grahme, she wore the green dress and had tucked daisies into her fading red hair.

"I've saved the space next to mine for you both. I'm glad to see you didn't fare too badly." Gretchen missed very little, and she saw how they did not touch each other but never quite stepped out of touching distance, and felt the warm friendliness between them. She met Bronwyn's gaze but said nothing, merely helping them put their wares on the shelves and table of the booth.

The morning went quickly. Grahme's carved animals were a favorite among the children of the village, and more than one was given as a gift when the child's mother purchased a spindle or finely carved bowl, or a father paid for a commission of cabinet knobs. Bronwyn's soaps were all sold before the village midwife brought luncheon to them. She was a withered woman, button bright raisin eyes peering up at Bronwyn with birdlike curiosity.

"I've been waiting to meet you, girl," she said. "Hoping you might consider helping an old woman with some of the lambing." It took Bronwyn a moment to realize that she was being asked to assist with human births. She waited a moment, listening for the bird-call of fate or magic, and heard only the beat of her own heart and the murmur of happy people.

"I can't seen any reason why not," she replied slowly, and then looked to Grahme. "Except that women and their husbands don't often favor a witch to tend birthings." He winked at her so quickly she wasn't certain she'd seen it.

"Well, child, if the people of this village will put up with not one giant but two, I'm thinking that a mere witch won't turn heads much. Besides, I've been accused of worse, so yer' in good company." She smiled a toothless grin. She sat with Bronwyn for the rest of the afternoon, and more than one man or woman stopped not simply to meet the Giant's woman, but to ask practical advice on one ailment or another. Bronwyn quickly discovered that the simple herbalism she'd learned from the Lord Mayor's cook and Grahme's books was counted as quite sophisticated in the far wilderness. She paid close attention to the things the midwife told their less trusting clients, the ones who kept their children back even as they asked about ailments of man or beast.

The dancing and feasting began as the light faded. Grahme was called to play on an odd, harp-like instrument, and Bronwyn was claimed for the circle dances and reels and line jigs until she could barely even breathe anymore for the exertion and laughing. The sense of magic gathering around the village infected them all like excitement, and Bronwyn saw sparks in the lanterns and torches, slender flickering figures leaping in the bonfire. Finally Gretchen caught her arms and pulled her out of the mob of dancers, pressing a cup of cold apple beer into Bronwyn's hands and finding an empty bench at the edge of the firelight near their stalls but not terribly far from the musicians' platform.

As they sat in companionable silence, some of the folk began to drift their way, each giving way to the other until a young woman arrived at their bench first.

The girl was perhaps thirteen or fourteen, pretty by country standards with brown hair and blue eyes, freckles across her nose. Thirteen was close enough to marrying age for the people of that county, and her frock was embroidered with simple ribbon flowers, her hair braided with ribbons and string to match.

Bronwyn motioned her closer when the girl hesitated, and Gretchen smiled reassuringly. "You look lovely tonight, Lisel," Gretchen said warmly. Lisel blushed and looked down nervously.

"Have you enjoyed the dancing?" Bronwyn asked, suddenly nervous about what the girl might bring to them and the tug of magic from below her ribs.

"Tis very nice, Mistress Bronwyn, thank you." She fidgeted, tracing a twisted rose on the cuff of her sleeve.

"Are you ill, Lisel?" Bronwyn hazarded, though the girl looked healthy enough. Gretchen smiled, but did not interrupt, and Bronwyn realized that her handling of this was a bit of a test.

"Oh, no. But I was wanting to buy... a spell, if that's not too much trouble?" The words came out in a jumble, and she looked around furtively, as if concerned about getting caught.

"What sort of spell?" Bronwyn asked, thinking of wishes granted and mysterious potions.

"Well, Hans... He's my Da's apprentice, and a good one, too, he's gonna be a fine blacksmith." She blushed again, and Bronwyn felt a chill touch her, and dreaded what the girl might say next.

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"Go on. Is there trouble between you?"

"Trouble? Well, I suppose." Lisel glanced across the firelit square. Bronwyn had met the blacksmith and his apprentice earlier in the day. The young man had broken two fingers a few days earlier, and they had come to Bronwyn and the midwife to have them set. Hans was looking in their direction an instant before Lisel's head turned towards him, and he glanced away with feigned nonchalance as her eyes found him. Bronwyn was suddenly relieved.

"Does your father or mother have any preference in who you choose to court?" The question must have been too abrupt; the girl paled a little, though she didn't step away from them.

"My Da needs me. I help 'round the house and do the cooking and washing. Mam died last spring with the fever that came after the -" She looked at Gretchen and cut of her sentence before plunging on. "After master Cormoran was killed." Cormoran was the name of Grahme's late brother, and Bronwyn was suddenly very curious about the tale she had not yet heard. Cormoran's widder gestured for Lisel to continue. "Da said it's time for me to start thinkin' who I fancy, and sometimes I think he worries about the house when I'm gone and married. But I don't want to leave him or the house, and Hans doesn't even notice me. Well, not any more than he does the barn-cat. I cook, the cat catches mice, and Hans never thinks twice about either of us." Despite the girl's despairing words, Hans was watching them again now that Lisel was looking at Bronwyn and Gretchen, and Bronwyn stifled her smile.

"What kind of spell do you want, child?" she asked gently.

"Well, I'd heard... that witches can charm beasts." She looked down at Robbie Longfellow, sitting on Bronwyn's feet with his tail under her skirts. The dog looked back up at her. "Do you know how to charm men, too?" Memory loomed large in Bronwyn's mind, the faces of the huntsman and the king, the miners in a dirty tavern deep in the woods. She pushed aside the faces by glancing towards the musicians, seeking Grahme's very real face. She sipped her beer, and for just a moment it was bitter as the witch's potion and then sweeter than any honeyed apple ever thought to be.

"Lisel, did your mam talk to you about how babes are got?" the girl blushed scarlet.

"Yes ma'am," she very resolutely avoided looking in Hans' direction. "Some women complain, but my Mam said it was actually nice, most times." The skepticism and speculation of virgin curiosity colored her words, and Bronwyn suddenly laughed. Startled, Lisel met Bronwyn's gaze, the girl's dark eyes flashing with a chilling yellow gleam, gone before Bronwyn really believed she'd seen it.

"Yes, Lisel, it can be very nice indeed." This time, Grahme met her glance and smiled warmly at her, perhaps hearing her laugh in the noise of the crowd. Bronwyn listened for the tug of fate of magic as she smiled in return, hearing only the music of the dancing.

"The spell you need is simple, but it requires work on your part. Hand me your ribbon." Lisel leaned near as Bronwyn spoke, and Gretchen nodded approvingly. When they were done, Bronwyn presented the ribbon, tied in a lover's knot, to the girl. Lisel impulsively hugged Bronwyn before skirting the dancing to find her father.

Gretchen chuckled warmly. "Is it magic, then, to comb your hair and watch out for your intended's needs?"

"Not so much magic, but that child needs no love philtre to get his attention. They just don't know that they're noticing one another. If she puts herself under his nose he'll know it soon enough, and I'd be willing to bet we'll be hearing from him before the summer sets in." Bronwyn smiled, and the people watching them began to shift once again.

A goodwife came for advice about her cow, and a farmer for a charm to keep moles from his garden. Finally, as midnight approached, a pair of young boys, perhaps nine and ten years old, came forward with a medium iron kettle held between them. "Miss, we found this thing, and our Mam told us you'd know what to do with it better than she does," the older said, proud for being responsible and a little afraid as they slid the lid off.

Bronwyn peered in, and saw the infant salamander. It rested among the coals, shorter than the length of her finger from nose to tail tip. She smiled and reached in fearlessly, ignoring the boy's exclamations. The fire elemental clung to her fingers, looking up at her sleepily with blue-hot eyes.

"Oh, aye, I know what to do with the likes of this. How did you come to find him?"

"Our sister Magda, she looks in the fire, and she saw it, and showed it to us 'cause it's pretty," the younger boy said.

"How old is your sister?" Bronwyn turned the salamander through her fingers, the sparking burn of its feet bringing tears to her eyes. As the tears fell she caught them on her palm, letting the creature lap them off of her skin.

"Oh, she's only three. Sees things all the time." The boy's mother came forward to redirect the conversation, looking nervous. Bronwyn realized that the dancing had stopped, that every man, woman and child was watching her handle the elemental. Some were curious, others were afraid of her or the glowing coal on her hand.

She felt a tug, a singing in her fingertips, and she put the little lizard back into the kettle, gently sucking on her burned fingers. "Well, you should put the baby back in his fireplace. He'll keep your fires hot and true, Goodwife Spinner, and when your daughter grows older, perhaps she should apprentice to the midwife, if she seems so inclined? The things she sees are harmless, just another way of looking at things."

"Is she a witch, then?" The goodwife was nonplussed at the thought of harboring both lizard and a daughter who might ultimately grow to be even more dangerous.

"Goodness, no. She’ll be an excellent healer, perhaps, or herb-woman. Nurture them both, Goodwife, for you are doubly blessed." The crowd muttered, and Bronwyn smiled at the girl-child sleeping on her mother's shoulder. Grahme came to her side, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"It was creatures like that which saved the Queen's life when she fought against the evil in the land. Surely they are not evil, if such good comes of them. Surely that tiny thing is even spawn of one of them, come to protect our fires and bring us luck." Grahme's words were met with exclamations and approval. The tide of the muttering shifted, and the crowd began to move into more normal patterns.

"Come, lovies, you two'll sleep in my house tonight,” Gretchen said as the attention of the people left them for other things.