Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock)

by Krause, Marguerite

  “I’ll do what I’m told, of course, but….”

  “But?” he prompted her.

  “I don’t think your good wife is pleased to have me here.”

  “I’m sure she’s neither pleased nor displeased. We don’t know you yet.”

  All of Vray’s misery returned in a rush. Words escaped before she could stop them. “I can’t. It’s better to be mistreated than to be ignored. She said nothing to me. She won’t accept me—”

  “By the Rock!” He stood angrily, and Vray cowered, berating herself for a fool for having entrusted any of her thoughts to a stranger. “If Jenil is going to meddle she could at least make a thorough job of it! Did she tell you nothing about us?”

  Numbly, Vray shook her head.

  He visibly bit back on his anger. “It’s not your fault, lass. Jenil should have warned you. Cyril doesn’t speak.”

  He extended his hand down to her. After a moment Vray realized what was expected and accepted his assistance to rise to her feet.

  “Doesn’t talk?” she asked uncertainly. “To strangers, you mean?”

  “She doesn’t speak,” he repeated. “At all.”

  Vray tried to absorb the implications. “But then how…?”

  For the first time during their conversation, the carter’s mouth curved upward in a smile. “I’ve never known her to fail to make her wishes known. You’ll see. The rest of us will help you, until you get to know her. Especially the girls. I don’t suppose Jenil told you anything about them, either?”

  Vray gave a small shake of her head.

  “The seven-year-old is Pepper. Matti is five. Too young for needlework, which is why I suspect Cyril will enjoy having you to teach. And you saw our son, Tob. He and I are gone most of the summer.” He paused, obviously entertaining another unpleasant thought. “Did Jenil think to feed you before she brought you here?”

  “We had some fruit and cheese on the road.” The mention of food caused Vray’s stomach to rumble. She hoped the carter wouldn’t hear it. “Before the rain.”

  “I thought as much. Back to the house.” He waved her out the door. “No one goes hungry under my roof. Come along.”

  A thin band of blue was all that remained of the sunset. As they approached the house, someone appeared out of the darkness, and said, “Oh, there she is.”

  “Here she is,” Jordy agreed.

  Vray stopped uncertainly just within the doorway. A hand on her shoulder urged her further into the room, accompanied by, “Excuse me,” spoken in a youthful voice. She stepped aside. The carter’s son eyed her dubiously as he passed, but she received a shy smile from one of the little girls who was standing beside the table. The other, smaller one ducked behind a chair to hide. Their mother stood at the entrance to the other room, one hand poised to draw aside the curtain covering the doorway.

  “Tob, this is Iris,” the carter announced. “She’s joining our household.” Jordy walked over to the table. “Matti, come out and say hello. Then get you off to bed. It’s time you were asleep. You too, Pepper.”

  “Daddy!”

  “Now.”

  The five-year-old peeked at Vray over the back of the chair. Pepper walked over and grabbed her sister’s hand, as though to drag her out of the house. Cyril took a step toward them. Pepper looked around guiltily, then dropped Matti’s hand and crooked a finger at her instead.

  “Come on, Matti,” she said.

  Her words released Matti from her paralyzed fascination with Vray. The little one scampered out the door, with Pepper in close pursuit.

  “She hasn’t eaten,” Jordy told his wife. “I’m going to have a look at the attic.”

  For the first time Vray noticed a ladder set into the wall in the corner furthest from the hearth. Jordy paused at its foot and looked at her.

  “You’ll have to share with the girls tonight,” Jordy continued. “Tomorrow Tob and I will fix you up with something of your own.”

  “Mom wants you to choose something for your supper,” Tob said.

  Vray turned quickly. Tob had seated himself on one of the benches next to the table and was watching her with open curiosity. His mother’s expression as she stood beside the cupboard was as Jordy had suggested it would be, neither friendly nor unfriendly. Vray’s stomach rumbled again. There’s nothing to be afraid of, she told herself. These are simple, straightforward Keepers. They don’t toy with people. She walked over to the cupboard and peered inside. Only the heel of a loaf of bread was recognizable. The rest of the contents consisted of various crocks and small jars.

  Cyril reached into the cupboard, drew out a small crock and opened it in front of Vray. The sweet aroma of grape preserves set Vray’s mouth watering. Cyril pressed the crock into her hands. From a drawer she produced a knife for the bread, and a flat, narrow-bladed spatula. These she also handed to Vray. Then she retreated into the other room, the curtain fluttering closed behind her.

  “There’s other stuff in there too,” Tob offered from the table.

  “This is fine.” Vray balanced the bread on top of the crock, and carried everything to the table. Her hand quivered slightly as she made the sandwich. The Mothers had never wasted good jam on her. She’d managed to steal a piece of fresh fruit once or twice when it was in season and overflowing the larder in its abundance. She took a wondering look at her sandwich, its thick, lumpy filling nothing like the translucent jellies she had eaten in her father’s castle, then took an experimental bite. The bread was slightly stale, but she hardly noticed. The sweetness of the preserves was all she really cared about.

  Tob watched her eat without comment. When she finished the sandwich and gazed longingly at the remaining crust of bread, he said, “You can finish it. Mom bakes every morning that Dad and I are home.”

  It took her two seconds to decide to accept his advice. As she sat there chewing, Jordy climbed down from the attic.

  “When you go up,” he told Tob, “show Iris where your mother keeps her spare cloth.” He turned to Vray. “You might want something more comfortable to wear.”

  Vray did not tell him that a Mother’s robes were remarkably comfortable. “Thank you.”

  “Have you had enough to eat?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Then you’d best get some sleep. Both of you. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

  Tob obediently got to his feet. Vray started to follow his example, but Jordy pointed at the remains of her supper.

  “You can put that away first. The wash water should still be warm.”

  “Good night, Dad,” Tob said from the ladder.

  “Sleep well,” Jordy replied. He nodded to Vray and went through the curtained doorway into the other room.

  Left alone, Vray replaced the crock in the cupboard. She took the knife and the sticky spoon over to the hearth and looked around her. After gingerly uncovering a few empty pots, she finally found one that contained water and a damp cloth. She wiped the knife and spatula clean and put them away. Finally, she swept the crumbs off the table into her hand and tossed them into the back of the fireplace.

  She straightened slowly. It really wasn’t an unpleasant room. If you like farmhouses, another part of her mocked. I’d rather live in a farmhouse, she answered herself, than die in my father’s castle, wouldn’t I?

  “Might as well get used to it,” she murmured under her breath. “Until something better comes along.”

  Chapter 17

  Vray’s first day with the carter family passed in a blur of unfamiliar activities and partially understood conversations. The carter himself strode out of the yard directly after breakfast and did not reappear until nightfall. She would have liked to join Tob in his work in and around the stable. She understood horses. But she didn’t know how to make the suggestion, so she stayed with Pepper and Matti instead, doing incomprehensible things to a huge patch of ground which they informed her was to be the garden.

  After lunch Vray sat on the steps in front of the house for some t
ime, trying not to be ill. She had eaten more over the course of three meals than she had been accustomed to eating in three days at Soza, and her insides protested in no uncertain terms. Once her stomach settled, she spent the afternoon making a spare dress from the material Tob had given her, and in the evening helped Cyril in the kitchen. Matti and Pepper took turns sitting beside her, chattering away. Vray couldn’t assimilate a fraction of the information they revealed—names and habits and histories of, it seemed to her aching head, every single person in the village of Broadford. Out of habit she automatically remembered it all, childish jumble or no.

  At bed time she discovered that Tob had spent the afternoon redividing the attic. The space allotted to her was large in comparison with what she’d had at Soza, but she hardly noticed. Exhausted, she burrowed into the blankets and went immediately to sleep.

  The next day she was the last one to wake. Feeling distinctly guilty, she threw on her black robes and hurried down the ladder. The family was already seated at the table, eating breakfast. Matti, her mouth full, waved at Vray with her wooden spoon, which caused her father to look around.

  “You slept well, Iris?”

  “Yes, sir.” Embarrassed, Vray circled the table and took a seat next to Pepper.

  The carter’s wife slid a bowl and spoon toward her with a silent gesture at the pot of porridge in the center of the table.

  “Thank you,” Vray added quickly.

  Across from her, Matti squirmed on the bench and scratched behind her ear, almost knocking over her milk. Tob reached across the corner of the table and steadied the mug.

  At the opposite end of the table, the carter raised his bushy eyebrows at his youngest child. “Sit still now, and eat.”

  “I can’t, it itches.”

  Pepper, sharing Vray’s bench, absently scratched her head, too. “I think something bit us, Dad.”

  “It’s a wee bit early in the year for flies,” Jordy replied.

  Tob scowled at his sisters. “Stop it, you two. You’re making me itch.”

  “She started it,” Pepper complained.

  “Momma,” Matti whined. She rubbed both hands furiously up and down the back of her neck. “Make it stop.”

  Cyril twisted sideways on the bench and turned the back of her daughter’s head into the light from the window. Under cover of her robes, Vray surreptitiously scratched at one of her own bites. She felt a vague sympathy toward the little one. To itch without being allowed to scratch was unbearable. Perhaps the carter was expecting too much of such a young child.

  Tob scratched at his shoulder. Jordy put his spoon down firmly on the table. “Now, that’s quite enough—” He stopped in mid-sentence as his wife abruptly rose from the table and drew Matti closer to the window. Jordy got up as well and peered into the child’s shock of golden-brown hair. Then he stared at Cyril in evident surprise. “Fleas!”

  Pepper looked at her parents. “What?”

  “Blechh,” Tob said, disgusted.

  “It’s a little insect that likes to live in hair or fur,” Jordy explained in answer to his older daughter’s question.

  Matti’s brown eyes grew round with alarm. Vray listened with growing horror. “You mean I have a bug in my hair?” the child asked.

  “Probably dozens,” Tob said helpfully.

  “Momma!” Matti wailed.

  “Tob, that wasn’t necessary.”

  “Well, it’s true.”

  Pepper snatched her hands away from her hair. “Do they crawl on us? I don’t like things that crawl on me.”

  “Fleas hop,” Tob informed her. “Hop, hop, hop.” He demonstrated, bouncing his hand along the table on two fingers.

  Matti, intrigued, paused in her sniveling. Jordy gave his son a look of grudging acknowledgment, and warning not to go any further. “Light the fire in the bath house,” he told Tob. “A good cleaning will take care of things.” He glanced at his wife. “I’ll clear out the attic.”

  “But if it’s too early for bugs,” Pepper interrupted, “where did these come from?”

  Vray sat very still, hardly breathing, as first the two adults, than each of the three children turned toward her. Jordy said, “Iris, come here please. We’d better have a look at you, too.”

  Nothing that had happened to her at Soza had felt quite like this. Shame and self-loathing made Vray’s skin crawl, far worse than mere flea bites could. Stiffly, she got to her feet and approached the carter—the clean and well-groomed carter. Why hadn’t she seen it before? She had been brought to a farm, yes, with a stable and chickens and a dirt yard and a plain, unadorned farmhouse. What she had failed to recognize was the orderliness beneath the rough simplicity. The floor of the house was bare wood—bare and well swept. None of the pots were encrusted with old food. The glass in the windows at either end of the room was rather thick, but it was also clean. Even the rafters were free of cobwebs. The clothing the family wore was unstained by grease or barnyard filth. Their complexions were uniformly free of blemishes or scratches. They were something she was no longer used to: average, healthy Keepers. Obviously they wouldn’t have parasites. Matti hadn’t been overreacting. She’d been genuinely afraid of an unknown, unimaginable, malady.

  Unknown, Vray thought wretchedly, until now.

  She bowed her head before the carter. His fingers, hot against skin that had gone cold with the mortification, lightly parted her hair. “Ah, lass, you could have told us you wanted a bath the night you arrived.” His voice hardened. “Jenil could have told us.”

  Behind her Tob said, “You finished that new dress yesterday, didn’t you, Iris? So you won’t have to put those smelly old black things on again.”

  Vray shuddered once. Gods, did she smell too? She looked up to find the carter’s gaze on her, his mouth downturned with displeasure. “Tob,” he said. “I thought I told you to build the bathhouse fire. Perhaps you’d best go first, Iris.”

  It was too much to bear. Vray whirled away from him, threw her dirty hood over her infested hair, and ran out of the house.

  * * *

  Tob didn’t know why both Pepper and Matti began to cry when Iris fled out the door. Maybe because Iris had been crying, her pale face gone dead white. Tob shook his head at the way girls behaved while his father and mother each scooped up a wailing daughter. Iris was an odd girl. Didn’t seem to know anything about anything. He sighed and looked around the room. The whole house was going to have to be scrubbed from top to bottom, and they’d probably send him off to Garden Vale for the stinky herbs used for fumigation. Tob wrinkled his nose in protest against aromas to come.

  “Should I follow her?” he asked his father.

  Jordy spoke above Matti’s loud sniffling. “Aye. And no teasing the girl, Tob.”

  He didn’t see Iris out in the yard. He tried the barn, but she wasn’t there either, or in the stable. A white kitten followed him from the barn and made an awful racket until he picked it up. Holding it in the crook of his arm, he petted it until it purred louder than anything that small had any right to. Where would he go if he was upset about something? The pasture. He climbed the fence, the kitten contentedly coming along for the ride.

  Huddled under the old oak, her black robe was easy to pick out against the browns and early greens of spring. Dead leaves still clung to the tree’s branches, although the fresh green buds had started to show. Iris probably didn’t hear him over the rustle of the leaves, though the furball’s mighty rumbling should have been hard to miss.

  Iris sat with her head on her knees, her red hair loose. It hung over her back and arms, as long as his mother’s but not as shiny. He looked at it, then deliberately didn’t look at it, and tried not to think about bugs.

  Tob sat down next to her. Hoping to get her attention, and maybe get rid of the cat at the same time, he asked, “You like kittens?”

  Her voice was muffled by tears, hair, and knees. “I’d give it fleas.”

  “Then we’ll give it a bath.”

  Iris lif
ted her head. “Stop being so practical,” she said accusingly, then sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  She snuffled again, and wiped her nose on the black cloth of her skirt. It didn’t do her wet, dirty face any good. “I disrupted a Keeper’s home. That’s the last thing I should do. I’m not supposed to….” Her voice trailed off into another sob.

  Tob didn’t know what to say, so he held out the kitten. “It’s got blue eyes,” he said. “That’s lucky.”

  Iris’s were greeny-gray—where they weren’t red. She wiped her hands on her soiled robe and held them out. He gladly passed the kitten to her. She held it close.

  “I had a cat at Soza,” she said.

  “Do you miss it?” he asked.

  “No.” They lapsed into shy silence for a few minutes while Iris stared toward the woods behind the pasture. “I called him Dael,” she finally added.

  “The cat?”

  The girl nodded. “Everybody spoiled him. That’s why I called him Dael.” She stared to cry again, very quietly. No snuffling, just big tears rolling down her cheeks.

  It made Tob very uncomfortable. His mother never cried like this. He wasn’t sure he could remember his mother ever crying at all.

  Iris squeezed the white kitten tighter. It meowed in protest. She put it on the ground, but it just climbed back up her robe, hanging on her knees until she took it in her arms again.

  “Does it have a name?”

  Tob shrugged. “It’s just a barn cat.”

  “I’ll call him Nocca then. Cause he’s persistent.”

  “Who’s Nocca?”

  “Dael’s big little brother.” Iris shook some of the hair out of her face. She looked at Tob and said sadly, “I miss them. Dael’s the only friend I ever had.”

  Feeling lost, Tob just nodded, and wondered if he should bring up the subject of the bath. He hoped Dad would understand if it took him a while to coax her back to the house. “You talk funny, Iris. How can somebody have a big little brother?”

  She almost smiled. “You have to see Nocca. Dael’s tall, over six feet. Nocca’s the youngest of Dael’s two brothers, but he’s a whole head taller than Dael.”