- 28th of Winter, 518
"So, what's in the box?"
"It's a secret."
"What kind?"
"The secret kind."
Madeira hugged the garment box to her belly and smiled to diffuse any resentment her refusal might have conjured. But the woman behind the counter of the mulled wine booth, Blossom, didn't seem terribly put out by the evasion. If anything her blue eyes shone with delight out of the garden of flowers tattooed on her face. Madeira had never known a nosier person.
"Tell you what", the woman countered, wrapping Madeira's purchase of a large bottle of wine in brown paper and string. "You tell me this secret, and I'll tell you one of mine, ok?"
Madeira had a feeling that Blossom’s secrets came much cheaper than that. But she agreed.
"Well." Blossom began dramatically, leaning over the vat to pass Madeira the wrapped bottle. The fragrant, heady vapours from the wine shimmered in the cold air, diffusing the delicate lines of her tattoos until she was nothing but a smear of colour against a backdrop of sparking snow. "You're one of those Cravens', right? Well I served Godric Craven here earlier today. And he had Ruby Pastel with him."
"Is that so?" Madeira intoned disinterestedly, tucking the toasty bottle under her arm and handing the clerk the ten gold she owed. Blossom's flowers seemed to wilt as it became clear her juicy bit of gossip failed to hit the mark.
"Ruby Pastel! You know, she's engaged to that painter who does the murals!"
"I don't concern myself with the private lives of my family" Madeira cut her off pointedly. And I prefer they keep out of mine, she failed to add. Gods knew there were things she could never tell her family: not her dabbling in Malediction, the state of Allister's mental health, or the real reason she was prone to nosebleeds. These, and a few others she couldn't even admit to herself, were all best left to the few people she could actually trust.
"Fine." the clerk huffed. "But a deal is a deal. What's in the box?"
"A cloak."
"A cloak?"
"A tiger fur cloak."
"Who's it for?"
"My friend."
"Well, that's not very special."
“No, it's not." she agreed, in the amicable tones of a liar.
There were actually quite a few things special about this particular cloak, and the friend it was meant for. But there was exactly one person in the world she was willing to share the whole story with, and it wasn’t the prying shop clerk.
"Have a good night, won't you?" Madeira waved cheerfully to the vendor, turning from the warmth of her stall to face the glowing courtyard.
Madeira wasn't the only one who had stumbled upon the festival that night. The square was humming with conversation punctured with delighted laughter. Some danced to the jaunty music of the fiddler on the roof, others browsed the stalls that were selling everything from warm mittens to mince pies. Children, waving toys and ribbons, chased each other around the tall frozen fountain that seemed to change every time Madeira looked at it. And over everything was the soft glow of the hundreds of multicoloured lanterns strung in the trees, between buildings and even unsupported in the air.
Though the bitter cold pressed in from all sides, nipped colour into her cheeks and weaselled it's way through her grey wool cloak, the atmosphere in the festival kept Madeira warm. She couldn't help but be pleased- even grateful. Winter was back. Morwen walked Mizahar again. That glow of hope, that the world was righting itself after a year of uncertainty and bloodshed, kept her warm and lifted. Nobody celebrated it out loud, but silent toasts were raised to the missing goddess and the return to the certainty of the seasons.
However, there was someone who she knew would not be taking this winter for the symbol of recovery that it was. Under her cloak she pressed the garment box and bottle of wine to her belly, smiling ruefully. If anybody was suffering in this cold, Ssanya was. The Dhani had a baffling preference for unbearable heat and an intolerance for even a mild chill. Madeira had set out to look for the Wolf's Cave as soon as she could make it out of her front door to make sure Ssanya was armed with enough wine and determination to last the season. She had stumbled on the Fair in her search, however, and could not help but stop and buy a bottle of wine to share.
A few stalls down from the mulled wine seller was another brightly painted booth, but this one seemed unmanned. A pyramid of bottles were lined on a wooden table inside, and behind it was every kids fantasy. Soft stuffed toys and marbles and games were packed floor to ceiling, crowding the shelves with childish delights. Madeira paused, her eyes caught on a little wooden duck on wheels on the top shelf, and her mind went straight to Emma. Her little nine-year-old ghost loved to play with the black marble she got from Terag. It hurt to realize that that was the child's only toy. Perhaps she could win her a toy here?
Oh, why not? It would not take more than a chime, and then she could continue the search for Ssanya and the Wolf’s Cave. The Spiritist dropped two bronze coins in a jar on the counter and picked up three rubber balls. With her tongue between her teeth she considered where best to hit the stack of bottles.
"It's a secret."
"What kind?"
"The secret kind."
Madeira hugged the garment box to her belly and smiled to diffuse any resentment her refusal might have conjured. But the woman behind the counter of the mulled wine booth, Blossom, didn't seem terribly put out by the evasion. If anything her blue eyes shone with delight out of the garden of flowers tattooed on her face. Madeira had never known a nosier person.
"Tell you what", the woman countered, wrapping Madeira's purchase of a large bottle of wine in brown paper and string. "You tell me this secret, and I'll tell you one of mine, ok?"
Madeira had a feeling that Blossom’s secrets came much cheaper than that. But she agreed.
"Well." Blossom began dramatically, leaning over the vat to pass Madeira the wrapped bottle. The fragrant, heady vapours from the wine shimmered in the cold air, diffusing the delicate lines of her tattoos until she was nothing but a smear of colour against a backdrop of sparking snow. "You're one of those Cravens', right? Well I served Godric Craven here earlier today. And he had Ruby Pastel with him."
"Is that so?" Madeira intoned disinterestedly, tucking the toasty bottle under her arm and handing the clerk the ten gold she owed. Blossom's flowers seemed to wilt as it became clear her juicy bit of gossip failed to hit the mark.
"Ruby Pastel! You know, she's engaged to that painter who does the murals!"
"I don't concern myself with the private lives of my family" Madeira cut her off pointedly. And I prefer they keep out of mine, she failed to add. Gods knew there were things she could never tell her family: not her dabbling in Malediction, the state of Allister's mental health, or the real reason she was prone to nosebleeds. These, and a few others she couldn't even admit to herself, were all best left to the few people she could actually trust.
"Fine." the clerk huffed. "But a deal is a deal. What's in the box?"
"A cloak."
"A cloak?"
"A tiger fur cloak."
"Who's it for?"
"My friend."
"Well, that's not very special."
“No, it's not." she agreed, in the amicable tones of a liar.
There were actually quite a few things special about this particular cloak, and the friend it was meant for. But there was exactly one person in the world she was willing to share the whole story with, and it wasn’t the prying shop clerk.
"Have a good night, won't you?" Madeira waved cheerfully to the vendor, turning from the warmth of her stall to face the glowing courtyard.
Madeira wasn't the only one who had stumbled upon the festival that night. The square was humming with conversation punctured with delighted laughter. Some danced to the jaunty music of the fiddler on the roof, others browsed the stalls that were selling everything from warm mittens to mince pies. Children, waving toys and ribbons, chased each other around the tall frozen fountain that seemed to change every time Madeira looked at it. And over everything was the soft glow of the hundreds of multicoloured lanterns strung in the trees, between buildings and even unsupported in the air.
Though the bitter cold pressed in from all sides, nipped colour into her cheeks and weaselled it's way through her grey wool cloak, the atmosphere in the festival kept Madeira warm. She couldn't help but be pleased- even grateful. Winter was back. Morwen walked Mizahar again. That glow of hope, that the world was righting itself after a year of uncertainty and bloodshed, kept her warm and lifted. Nobody celebrated it out loud, but silent toasts were raised to the missing goddess and the return to the certainty of the seasons.
However, there was someone who she knew would not be taking this winter for the symbol of recovery that it was. Under her cloak she pressed the garment box and bottle of wine to her belly, smiling ruefully. If anybody was suffering in this cold, Ssanya was. The Dhani had a baffling preference for unbearable heat and an intolerance for even a mild chill. Madeira had set out to look for the Wolf's Cave as soon as she could make it out of her front door to make sure Ssanya was armed with enough wine and determination to last the season. She had stumbled on the Fair in her search, however, and could not help but stop and buy a bottle of wine to share.
A few stalls down from the mulled wine seller was another brightly painted booth, but this one seemed unmanned. A pyramid of bottles were lined on a wooden table inside, and behind it was every kids fantasy. Soft stuffed toys and marbles and games were packed floor to ceiling, crowding the shelves with childish delights. Madeira paused, her eyes caught on a little wooden duck on wheels on the top shelf, and her mind went straight to Emma. Her little nine-year-old ghost loved to play with the black marble she got from Terag. It hurt to realize that that was the child's only toy. Perhaps she could win her a toy here?
Oh, why not? It would not take more than a chime, and then she could continue the search for Ssanya and the Wolf’s Cave. The Spiritist dropped two bronze coins in a jar on the counter and picked up three rubber balls. With her tongue between her teeth she considered where best to hit the stack of bottles.
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