The Broken Circle: Yarns of the Knitting Witches
Page 1
Cheryl Potter
Copyright © 2013 by Cheryl Potter
Potter Press
100 Cherry Tree Hill Lane
Barton, Vermont 05822
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
All of the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All illustrations except where noted by Frank Riccio
Map by Joe Wilkins
Icons and graphic design by Mary Joy Gumayagay
Workbook graphic design by Joel Lacoss
www.potluckyarn.com
ISBN: 978-0-9856350-7-7
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Also by Cheryl Potter
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Cast of Characters
Map of the Middle Lands
Introduction
Prologue
Pattern: Aubergine's Magic Wrap
Chapter 1: Trouble at the World’s Fair
Pattern: Potluck Hats
Chapter 2: The Road to Banebridge
Pattern: Esmeralde’s Possibles
Chapter 3: The River Runs High
Pattern: Skye’s Traveling Cloak
Chapter 4: The Killing Field
Pattern: Lavender Mae’s Precious Pouch
Chapter 5: Thieves of the Frozen Tombs
Pattern: Winter Wheat’s Felted Backpack
Chapter 6: The Road Less Traveled
Pattern: Lilac Lily’s Going-to-Market Bag
Chapter 7: Lost without Mamie
Pattern: Ratta’s Never- Ending Shawl
Chapter 8: The Fossickers Scatter
Pattern: Skye’s Elfin- Lace Shawl
Chapter 9: Playing with Fire
Pattern: Indigo Rose’s Women’s-Work Fingerless Gloves
Chapter 10: Voices of the Ancients
Pattern: Warren’s Snowflake Watch Cap
Chapter 11: The Dervish Awakens
Pattern: Winter Wheat’s Highland-Lace Scarf
Chapter 12: Call of the Cold-Fire Crystal
Pattern: Sierra’s Secret Socks
Chapter 13: Mamie’s Last Message
Pattern: Ratta’s Mufin-Top Mitts
Chapter 14: Time to Clean House
Pattern: Smokey Jo’s Smoken Cowl
Chapter 15: Journey to the Border
Pattern: Esmeralde’s Jaunty Beret
Chapter 16: A Rude Awakening
Pattern: Mae’s Mitered Afghan
Chapter 17: Stories too Close to True
Pattern: Land-of-Dreams Scarves
Chapter 18: The Gathering
Pattern: Tracery Teal’s Kimono-of-Many–Colors
Chapter 19: Hidden in Plain Sight
Pattern: Aubergine’s Simmer Shawl
Chapter 20: The Lost Tale
Pattern: The Fire-and-Ice Shawl
STUDENT WORKBOOK
About the Author
ALSO BY CHERYL POTTER
Handpaint Country : A Knitter’s Journey
Lavish Lace: Knitting With Hand-Painted Yarns
with Carol Noble
Rainbow Knits For Kids
Ribbon Style: Knitted Fashions And Accessories
Skein For Skein: 16 Knitted Projects
Special Little Knits from Just One Skein
To my husband Tim, who puts up
with knitting witches everyday
and for knitting witches everywhere
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Welcome to The Broken Circle, a fiber fantasy filled with Yarns of the Knitting Witches. I began writing this first book of the Potluck Yarn Trilogy six years ago and abandoned it in discouragement a few years later, convinced that my desire to combine a fantasy novel about knitting witches with a pattern book that featured magical garments was foolish. Combination books like this one are called “cross genre” which is jargon for “not desirable” by commercial publishers. On top of that, I thought kids would like it as well as adults. Now my books would be classified as YA for Young Adult. How terrible!
I was undaunted at first. I hand dyed my witches’ colorways and put together their patterns. I wrote most of the novel. I referenced patterns in each chapter, and then took them back out when everyone I consulted told me my idea would not work. Then I gave up on the book completely and resolved to return to the familiar terrain of writing pattern books for hand dyed yarns.
Flash forward six years. Now the book is in its second printing, thanks to the undying support of knitting witches’ fans. I can’t thank you enough. As a special addition, this printing contains the Student Workbook, previously only available as a download. Teachers, parents, librarians, and educators of all kind, I hope you find the workbook helpful!
I owe a special thanks to Deb Robson who edited the book not once but twice, and provided me with sound advice long after her work with me was finished. Many of the words and phrases used in the book do not appear in Webster’s and I have Deb to thank for the Potluck style guide.
Special appreciation goes to Donna Druchunas, who managed the production of the novel and edited the Companion Pattern Book simultaneously, giving me the advice and support that only a true friend can offer. Kudos to Mary Joy Gumayagay for the beautiful book design, and thanks to Reed Glenn forher careful, efficient copy editing. I am especially excited by the visuals in the book. Thanks to artist Frank Riccio for the beautiful cover and interior line drawings and to our resident cartographer Joe Wilkins, who designed the map of the Middlelands.
Finally, thanks to everyone at Cherry Tree Hill Yarn and Plymouth Yarn Company. I was so pleased to have the opportunity to work with all of you.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
THE ORIGINAL POTLUCK TWELVE
Aubergine: The Potluck Queen
Smokey Joe
Esmeralde
Indigo Rose
Lavender Mae
Lilac Lily
Sierra Blue
Tracery Teal
Mamie Verde
Ratta
Winter Wheat
Tasman: The Dark Queen
THE BLUE FAMILY OF TOP NOTCH
Kendrick: Sierra’s husband
Warren: Sierra and Kendrick’s oldest son
Skye: Sierra and Kendrick’s daughter
Garth: Sierra and Kendrick’s youngest son
THE FOSSICKERS
Trader: The Fossicker leader
Clayton
Ross
Micah
OTHER CHARACTERS
Miles from Nowhere: A traveling bard
Ozzie: The Banebridge Trading Post proprietor
INTRODUCTION
When the creation of this Potluck Yarn Trilogy began, and Book One, The Broken Circle: Yarns of the Knitting Witches, came into being, two parallel creations were conjured together: the novel you hold, as well as a sequence of magical handspun and knitted items—shawls, bags, mitts and gloves, a cloak, and more. The hand-crafted textiles came to figure prominently in the story of a world where the powers they represent are no longer welcome but are desperately needed. Knitter or not, our goal is to add a healthy mix of fiber to your fantasy. One project per chapter, these talismans and useful garments play significant roles in the narrative. The yarns of the story and the yarns in the fiber creations grew
to the point where they could stand alone, although each enhances the other.
The book you hold is the novel: formatted in standard trade-paperback size, it encompasses a map of the fantasy world, a broad cast of characters, and a prologue that precedes the twenty chapters of the trilogy’s first volume. Whether you are a knitter or not, we trust that this first book will pique your imagination and stir your creative impulses, allowing you to read for entertainment without being distracted by knitterly details.
If you are a knitter, we have an extra dose of good news for you. The patterns have blossomed into a separate book of instructions, prepared in a larger format and in full color, with beautiful photos and easy-to-read charts. The Companion Pattern Book to The Broken Circle will give you, if you are so inclined, the opportunity to make enchanting projects like those created by Sierra, Lavender Mae, Ratta, and the other knitting witches whose lives, challenges, journeys, conflicts, and alliances you are about to encounter. For those who would like the enhancement, the companion book also includes a color version of the map of The Middlelands, where the novel’s action takes place.
I am not the first author to believe that magic and knitting share certain mystical qualities for those who choose to look for them. Examples of those who have noted this connection before include Anna Zilboorg (read her Knitting for Anarchists) and Elizabeth Zimmermann (I’m thinking of numerous books here, but try re-reading Knitting Without Tears). Debbie Macomber’s best-selling novels about the fictional shop on Blossom Street in Seattle called A Good Yarn have given rise to coordinating pattern books. Throughout the Harry Potter series, many of J. K. Rowling’s characters wield knitting needles as well as wands.
In The Broken Circle, you will meet the knitting witches, who have been called to circle the dyepot once more and rekindle their magic, scattered for more than two decades and faded in a society where its colors and powers have become unwelcome, in an effort to save their world from destruction. In the intervening years, each witch has, however, practiced her singular talent and kept its flame flickering, even if in a diminished form: spinning and dyeing yarns for specific purposes, or coloring these efforts with crystals and plants that have magical qualities. In addition to maintaining the skills and knowledge that they cultivated together in the Potluck workshop, they have also been tellers of tales, serving as the carriers of stories that have been handed down through the years. In both these ways, they are guardians of the last vestiges of magic in their threatened homeland.
We hope that the spirit of the knitting witches inspires you to follow them on their colorful quest through the entire trilogy, and that your hands find delight in the working of the designs in the Companion Pattern Book. (Some of the patterns are well suited to aid the non-knitter in becoming an apprentice to the craft, while others are more appropriate for the adept practitioner.)
It’s clear to me that each of us has the potential to experience some of the magic of the knitting witches in our own creative power. And now it’s time to pack up some yarn, real or imaginary, and begin the adventure. . . .
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
ROBERT FROST
Red sky at night, sailors’ delight.
Red sky in morning, sailors take warning.
FISHWIVES’ TALE
A yarn is naught but a tall tale,
a continuous string wound around itself into a ball,
sometimes knotted, sometimes tangled,
or so the story goes.
SIERRA BLUE, KEEPER OF THE TALES
A dim form stole from the back of the dye shed.
Prologue
BARELY VISIBLE IN THE PREDAWN LIGHT, a dim form stole from the back of the dye shed. Wrapping a shawl tight against the wind, the figure shuffled along the snow-packed path through the frozen herb garden and opened the gate to climb the knoll behind Merchants’ Row.
At the top of the hill, the slowly blooming light revealed a woman, gray-haired and hunched—perhaps by age, but certainly against the wind. She scanned the snow-crusted rooftops that spiraled from the center of the city like wagon-wheel spokes. Then she directed her gaze toward watch fires that shone from the garrison bordering the Northlands and beyond. In the far distance, a plume of dirty smoke rose from the Northland Glacier. She felt certain a new band of Lowland raiders had passed unseen through the Blind Side of the glacier during the night. The air smelled faintly of fish oil, the odor cast by the smudge torches borne by the Southern invaders. She wondered if they had yet breached the Crystal Caves, as they burned out the belly of the ancient glacier in their quest for water.
An acrid wind caught a corner of her handspun shawl, threatening to snatch it from her grasp. From the straggly line of buildings that wound along the base of the foothills beneath her, a wooden sign groaned on its hinges. She knew without looking that it was the sign above her own shop. The screech of iron on iron sounded ominous.
The old woman searched the gray horizon for answers and found none. She fingered the shawl that she called her magic wrap. Old and worn, even though made from sturdy mohair, it was lavender and plum tinged with black, hand-dyed in a colorway called “Aubergine,” a combination to which she had given her own name. This familiar shawl provided warmth and comfort, as well as courage sometimes.
This blustery morning she felt nothing but sorrow. If she had just searched her heart twenty years ago, she could have prevented the Lowlanders’ desecration of the Middlelands. Before the water in the great pot in the dye shed had grown cold and the Middlefolk ceased to believe in her yarns, she could have prevented the damage. Yet she had been younger then, both strong and foolish.
She felt like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Smokey Jo was right: It was time to call the Twelve. It was past time. She knew not all of them would recognize the summoning fire in the sky. Of those who took notice, not all would heed its command. The circle of Twelve would remain broken, as it was before. Even broken, though, the circle might contain enough power to prevent the destruction of the world as they knew it.
She reached a veined hand to the skin of her neck and she felt the pain afresh, as if the betrayal had happened last night. How could she have chosen to trust that young woman, the one who on that last night of the Twelve ripped the amethyst circlet from her throat, then spurned the power of the group and fled south to the Lowlands, knowing none of them would follow her there? Then, coaxing some magic from the crystals she had stolen, she had learned to bend the Lowlanders’ greed to her will. As the years passed, rivers raged and whirlwinds struck and forests burned. Now a grown woman, and no longer merely a novice, this former apprentice had become Aubergine’s enemy. Known as the Dark Queen of the South, she had stripped the fields and forests, siphoned the rivers and lakes, and polluted the seas with the foul sludge that remained. Then the Lowlanders had been forced to invade the Northland for food and water. The old woman shook her head, unwilling to even think the name of her adversary.
A tiny, round gnome toiled up toward Aubergine from the path below, holding a tinderbox in hands warmed by felt mittens. Just last week she had rediscovered the silver container, shelved among dyestuffs in the back room, and glowing as it had not for decades.
Wheezing, the gnome gently lifted the delicate chest toward Aubergine. Dawn was beginning to send a hint of brightness above the horizon, but the old woman found she had no strength to open the box she now held. Made of seamless hammered metal, it had no lid.
The gnome clapped her hands together to warm them further against the morning chill. She coughed. “It’s time,” she said. “Quickly, before the dawn obscures the stars.”
The old witch shook her head. “Poor little one, we are only two tired crones whose time has gone.” The glowing chest remained closed between them, like an unanswered question. A loud crack startled them, just as the ground trembled under their feet, followed by an after jolt that jerked the tinderbox from Aubergine’s hands and cast it into the snow. Clutc
hing each other for balance, the women looked north, unable to see the distant avalanche but not surprised. Lowlanders had been mining the Northland Glacier for years, chipping away at ancient ice with sledgehammers, dumping frozen chunks into washes where they melted and flowed south. Now the entire border was unsafe. The Glacier Guard was useless, their ranks having dwindled to a few feeble oldsters playing dice outside the Burnt Holes. Even with fresh conscripts to swell their ranks, they were no match for the raiders.
The wind stung tears into the corners of Aubergine’s eyes. She watched as Smokey Jo dug the glowing box out of the snow. Drops of water beaded across its top and ran down its sides, melted by the cold fire within.
The witch grasped her shawl tight against the buffeting wind, trying to muster enough strength to open the box. “Fire and Ice,” she murmured, tasting the words that had the metallic flavor of war. Some would live, and some would die. But the Middlelands, caught between the Northland Guard and Lowland invaders, were about to change forever.