Ravenwood

by Lowell, Nathan

  Amber’s eyes got wide. “You mean you’ll go all that way and not know if it’s worthwhile? What if she won’t take you as a student?”

  Tanyth shrugged again. “Well, the trip is always worthwhile. I get to meet so many charmin’ people like you all along the way.” She paused to beam at the small family, and saw that the girl had actually fallen asleep in her seat, head lolling back and mouth slightly open, while Riley stared wide-eyed, apparently enraptured by her story. “But I could get up there and have to turn around and come back, yes.”

  “Does she turn people away?” William asked with a small frown.

  “I don’t know. All I know is that she’s supposed to be one of the keepers of the old lore, back from the earliest days when the world was filled with magic.” She shrugged, embarrassed, and looked back and forth between the two adults. “That’s what they say, anyway. I’ve studied with many of the very best herbalists in the land and they all hold Mother Pinecrest in the highest regard. So, I’m going to go try to find her, learn what I can, and then, maybe settle down somewhere and write up all I’ve learned about herbs and medicinals before I start to forget it myself.”

  “But if you get up there, and she turns you away with winter closing in, you’ll be stuck up there.” His voice carried a press of worry. “That’s a harsh land. I’ve visited it more than once and it’s no place to be when the snow starts piling up.”

  Tanyth shrugged. “It’s not an ideal situation, I agree, but Mother Pinecrest is gettin’ on. I’m afraid to wait too long for fear that she’ll pass over before I’ve had a chance to meet her.” She shook her head. “I have to get there and soon.”

  Amber’s frown looked concerned and her eyes pleaded with her husband across the table. He gave a small nod in reply. He took a deep breath. “Mum? Would you consider wintering here with us?”

  Tanyth cocked her head to one side. “Winter here?”

  William nodded slowly with a glance at his wife who returned the nod. “Mother Alderton’s cottage is available for you. None here would gainsay your staying, and you’d have a snug place to stay. We could surely use your knowledge here. Mother Alderton was called home before her time and before she could pass on much of what she knew.”

  “Before she realized she needed to, most like.” Amber looked somber. “She was a dear lady and I miss her sorely.”

  “There are a couple of empty cottages, actually, mum. If you don’t fancy staying in Mother Alderton’s?” William didn’t say it but the implication that she might not want to live in the house where the previous dear lady had died in her bed was clear in his face.

  “It’s a lovely little house.” Tanyth assured him. “Marvelously built. Was that your doing, William?”

  He colored, embarrassed by the praise, but nodded. “Yes’m. I used to work in my da’s ship yard when I was a boy. He wanted me to learn the business from the bottom up. I never got much beyond planking hulls before it became obvious that the business was going to go to my older brothers, Stephen and Richard. They were grooming me to be foreman, I think, but...” His voice trailed off. “It’s not what I really wanted. Much as I like makin’ the boats, runnin’ the shipyard and dealing with the shippin’ isn’t somethin’ I really wanted for myself.”

  “And they didn’t like that we married in spite of them.” Amber added.

  “Well, you’re worth any two shipyards, my heart.” He smiled at her across the table. “And besides, we’ve these to consider.” He nodded at the two kids. “They’ll do better to make their own way than to wait on scraps from the high table.” Returning to the subject in question, he looked up at the roof trees. “Anyway, I figured if it would keep the water out of the ships, then it would probably keep the water off our heads. I just planked the roofs as if they were hulls. It was a lot easier because I didn’t need to bend the planks to make them fit. Just careful fit, tight pegs, and oakum and pitch in the seams. Thomas and the others laughed at me at the time, but they appreciate not having to replace thatching every year.”

  “You built all theses houses at once? That must have taken quite a crew.”

  He nodded. “Yes, mum, well, it took almost all of one summer. We came out in the fall and felled the trees, clearing the land and pulling stumps. It’s amazing what ten men and an ox can do when they’ve a mind. We camped rough and worked from sun up to sun down from Harvest Moon to nearly mid winter.”

  “How did you afford it?” Tanyth blurted the question before she realized it might not be the most polite one.

  William just grinned. “One of the things about being a rich kid, mum. My father was happy to pay us off to get out of his hair, and we sell the clay to one of his companies. He makes a profit on it.”

  “Do you have to pay him back?” Tanyth was totally unfamiliar with how rich people lived so the idea drew her into areas that she might not have ventured in other circumstances.

  Amber grinned. “We already have.”

  William nodded with a satisfied smile. “We’re not beholden to anybody at the moment, mum. What we have is ours, so long as we hold it. Got the paperwork filed with the King’s Commissioner in Kleesport and everythin’.”

  They ate quietly for a few moments before Amber spoke again. “Our parents, and I’m sure a lot of the people who came out here with us, Sadie and Thomas’s folks, they thought we’d get out here and ‘play house’ for a while until we got sick or cold or tired of it and then head back to town with our tails between our legs beggin’ for shelter.” There was a tone of quiet bitterness to her voice. She didn’t look up while she spoke.

  “But you didn’t.” Tanyth was matter-of-fact in her statement.

  Amber didn’t look up. “Not yet anyway.” She didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

  William looked at her across the table. “We’re not going to.” There was a bit of heat in his voice.

  “Why would you, Amber?” Tanyth directed the question at the young woman and turned her head away from William.

  She sighed and looked up. “It gets harder each year, mum. When Mother Alderton passed, I thought we were done for, but we muddled through. But when Sadie got sick and nobody knew what to do...”

  Tanyth reached over to pat the younger woman’s arm. “She’d have survived. It was just the flux.” She said it softly and caught the younger woman’s eyes in hers. “She’s a strong girl and it wasn’t like I did anything at all but make her a little more comfortable. She got better on her own.”

  Amber looked like she wanted to believe but she shook her head. “Your being here helped. Just being here.”

  “Perhaps, my dear. Perhaps. But that’s a long way from giving up your dream here. What made you say that?” She paused and when the younger woman didn’t respond, pressed a bit more. “Not yet? Is somethin’ else goin’ on?”

  Amber glanced at William before answering. “Frank hasn’t come back with the wagon and team yet.”

  William clanked his spoon against his bowl a bit harder than he needed to.

  Amber turned to him. “You can sit there and say ‘Any day now,’ William Mapleton, but what if something’s happened to him or if he’s run off with the money and the horses?”

  Tanyth looked to him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Well, if he’s run off, then we’ll have to try to rent a team for the rest of the season and then see where we are in the spring.” William kept his voice low and reasonable sounding but there was a tightness in it. “If something’s happened to him, then we’ll have to deal with that, too.” He sighed and turned to Tanyth. “He’s never been this late on his return. A few days once in a great while. Once one of the horses threw a shoe. Once the factor was late settling up in Kleesport.” He shrugged. “If something happened to the lorry wagon, then he might be delayed getting it repaired. One of the horses might have gone lame. Any number of things could be keeping him and he’s only a bit more than a week over due.”

  Amber sighed and the anger seeped out of her. “You’re right, hus
band. I know you’re right, but I can’t help worryin’.” She turned to Tanyth. “He’s bringin’ back a load of grain and dried goods for our winter stockpile. If he doesn’t get back, we don’t have enough food to get through the winter.”

  William grimaced and shook his head. “Maybe, maybe not. We have a forest full of game that hasn’t been over hunted and it’ll be weeks yet before snow flies. Bester won’t like it but he can make the trip to town if need be. We only need to get to Fernsvale to buy grain, and the potato and turnip crops are going to be very good this year.” William considered before speaking further. “We’re not going to starve. Not this winter. Last winter, it might have been different, but we’ve plenty and then some.” He grinned. “It might get a bit boring by spring, but we’ll be fed.”

  Tanyth dunked a crust of bread into her stew and savored it before responding. “Yet you’re willin’ to take on another mouth by invitin’ me to winter over?”

  William shrugged. “I see it as one more productive member of our community, mum. One who has the knowledge to keep the rest of us going and healthy.”

  Amber nodded. “I do, too. As William says, I’m being too hasty in this. He’s right. Our food stocks right now are much higher than we had last winter, and we still have a few months to gather.” She sighed and shrugged. “And Frank could be back tomorrow with the team.”

  Tanyth finished her stew, cleaning the inside of the bowl with the last bit of her bread before popping the savory into her mouth. “So, worst case, he’s run off and taken your money with him?”

  William shook his head. “No, our money is all safe in Kleesport. There’s nothing to spend it on out here. He’ll bring back a few coins but the majority of our funds stay in the bank in Kleesport. He’s authorized to purchase goods for us, but almost all out money stays in the vault there. The accountants keep it straight and we don’t get robbed out here.”

  “What if the accountants steal your golds?”

  “Then the vault-keeper has to deal with the King’s Own. They take it pretty personally. The King wants his tithe. He can’t get it from stolen money. Besides, we’re too small to worry about and we pay our accountant well to keep our affairs in order. The alternative is to keep the money here and we can’t protect it here. As long as we’re poor, nobody will bother us.”

  Tanyth eyed Amber and the look wasn’t lost on William.

  He sighed. “If we’re attacked, everybody runs into the woods and hides. It’s not much, but it’s all we have unless we go back to town and cower behind the city walls.”

  Tanyth made a sideways nod, granting him the point. “At least you’ve thought that far ahead.”

  “We’re right off the road, mum. Not that many dastardly people travel the Pike. There are too many chances to be spotted by one of the King’s Own, and too much trouble brings them down from Kleesport or up from Easton. You were walking the Pike alone, mum. You know what it’s like better’n us, I suspect.”

  Tanyth granted him that point as well. “Alright, then. Let me sleep on it over night and I’ll give you my decision in the morning. What are the terms?”

  “Terms, mum?” William seemed surprised by the question.

  “Terms, sir. Will you expect rent? How much support can I count on from the village? I haven’t been here to contribute to the larders so how much will I be able to draw? That sort of thing?”

  Amber spoke softly but it was evident that she meant every word. “Mum, Mother Alderton was a full member of our little family. She drew what she needed and gave back much more than she ever took. We can’t put a price on that in terms of so many stones of barley, so many bushels of potatoes.”

  “But I’m not Mother Alderton, Amber. I’m just a little, old woman who’s wandered too far from home.”

  Amber smiled. “You’re a tough old boot with a lot of wear left on the sole, and I mean no disrespect in sayin’ that, mum. If you’ll stay and help us this winter, teach us what we need to know to keep going, and just do what you think you can, you can draw what you need from the stores and we’ll gladly share whatever we have with you.”

  William looked shocked at his wife’s plain speaking, but Tanyth’s mouth twitched in an involuntary grin. “Very well, then. I think I know what I’m up against.” Her face softened into a smile as she noted that both the children had fallen asleep in a huddled pile. “I think they have the right idea. Thank you for dinner, but now I need to go to Mother Alderton’s cottage and sleep on it.”

  William and Amber both rose, but William was the first to speak. “Of course, mum.”

  “Thank you, sir, for a most interestin’ and enlightenin’ evenin’.”

  He grinned and knuckled his forehead. “Thank you, mum, for your kindness and consideration.”

  She turned to Amber and surprised the younger woman by giving her a close embrace. “Bless you, child.”

  Outside, night had fallen almost completely. Only a faint, ruddy glow showed over the tops of the trees to the west and the nearly full moon peeked through the treetops to the east. She crossed her arms against the chilly night air, heavier coat or not. She crossed the village with a few, rapid steps, the night sounds from the surrounding forest keeping her company. A woman’s laugh from one of the huts behind her punctuated the sigh of wind in the tree tops.

  She stopped at her door and turned to survey the tiny hamlet. “You could do worse, old woman.” She murmured it to the night, but the words echoed inside her. “You could do worse.” The cold struck though her then, and an owl called from the spruces. She slipped the latch and entered the hut, closing the door carefully behind her.

  Chapter 6

  Decisions

  The short night followed by a long and stressful day put Tanyth in a mood to find her bedroll. A belly full of rich, warm food and the snug security of the cozy hut added to her body’s demand for rest. She checked the fire and banked the few remaining coals against the back of the hearth, adding a smallish log to maintain the fire overnight. In her last moments of awareness, she rummaged in her pack for her meager supply of oatmeal and her tiny cooking pot, added some water from the bucket and settled it on the hearth where it could cook slowly while she slept. Her bedroll called her then and she sank into slumber even as her body sank into the luxurious sweet grass tick.

  Her dreams that night were shapeless but haunted by the image of a great tree, its leaves flowing smoothly from lush green to a brilliant scarlet that faded to the glossy wet color of blood. They dripped from the branches to pool on the ground and soak into the soil. Those remaining on the tree turned a scabrous brown and cascaded faster and faster, piling up in a drift to protect the roots and no longer melting into the soil. The falling leaves revealed stark, forking branches, first in small glimpses and then in larger areas. Finally the tree stood exposed and, with it, a small bird perched near the bole, protected from the elements by the body of the tree itself. As the last of the leaves dropped from the tips of the branches, snow began to fall. It touched the branches, highlighting them in black and white against the gray winter sky even while it covered the ground, laying a blanket of glistening white over the leafy brown cloak at the base of the tree. The bird fluffed out its feathers and stood revealed as a small owl with bands of black and brown across its wings and rings of ruddy orange around brilliant onyx eyes. As the night wore on, so did the procession of seasons in her dream until the snow gave way to stripes of warming sun and gentle rains that washed the snowy blanket away to expose tender grass even as the bare, black branches grew fuzzy tips. The owl turned to face her in her dream and hooted a drawn out who-who-whooo. The last long whooo blended into a raucous cock-a-doodle-doo in her ears. It pulled her out of the dream and back to reality.

  She lay there in her bedroll, momentarily disoriented by a roof over her head even as she lay warmly swathed in the bedroll she associated with an open sky. As the disorientation faded and memory returned, the image of black limbs against gray skies faded in her mind and the sound o
f an owl’s low call echoed in her ears. She sighed, blinked herself fully awake, and forced her body out of the warm cocoon of blankets. The fire demanded her attention as the chill, morning air scrubbed at her bed-warmed body. She found a few spikes of cattail to put on the coals and blew life back into the nearly dead fire, adding a few small sticks to fuel the blaze. She weighed the luxury of using the ceramic pot beneath the bed against the more practical notion of slipping on her boots and heading for the privy. Boots won and she scampered across the compound in the magical light of morning to deal with the much more mundane issue of bladder.

  On her way back to the hut, the rooster’s call from somewhere near the barn cut the still morning air once more. As the raucous sound echoed down the hollow, Tanyth heard the low call of an owl seeming to answer from the copse of spruces behind the village. The sound was almost identical to the who-who-whooo from her dream. It sent a shiver down her spine as the eeriness of the haunting sound echoed in her mind even as it faded in the pale dawn’s growing light. “Alright, All-Mother. I got the message.” She muttered it under her breath even as she grinned at herself for doing it.

  She returned to the cottage and stoked up the fire to boil water for tea and to warm her oatmeal a bit faster. She stood, basking in the heat and listening to the sounds of the village coming awake around her. For the most part it was quiet, but the occasional clank of pot hook reached through the stout walls. She could practically feel the quickening of the world around her as the light of morning grew in intensity through the narrow outlines of her doors.

  As she was finishing her breakfast, she heard the steady plodding of the ox and the crunch of solid wheels on the gravel of the track. She tossed back the last of her tea and scooped the last few grains of oat from the dish before rising and slipping out into the morning once more. The trees still hid the rising sun, but the morning had reached a fullness where the warming rays would arrive momentarily. William led the ox down the path toward the Pike and waved to her as she crossed to intercept him at the path.