by Amy McNulty
At the edge of the woods, I breathed a sigh of relief. My home was there. I’d reached the flattened grass where the carriage had turned around day after day. I took note of a few broken lily petals that had floated across the dirt road, still vibrant and purple despite their pressing fate.
The door to the house was cracked open. “Mother? Father? Elfriede?”
I pushed on the door and heard the creak of the hinges echo against the silence inside. There was no light, and the fire was dead, but thanks to the moonlight that crept inside, I could just make out a figure in the chair at the table that faced the doorway.
“Mother?” I whispered.
Bit by bit, the lantern light revealed the figure. The eyes, dark with just a hint of the flames that ought to have burned brightly. The scowl on the lips of his strained face. And in one hand, on the table, the same blue dress I’d seen Mother wearing before I’d visited the lord. It felt like days ago, but I knew it to be just a few hours earlier.
“I hope you’re happy, Noll,” said Father. His voice cracked and strained with each syllable. “You wouldn’t help her. And now she’s gone.”
Elfriede shrieked from where she sat atop the bed she and I shared; she buried her head into the shoulder of the man, her man, who comforted her.
I stumbled, the breath completely sucked out of me. There was no one there to catch me.
***
Six months went by in a blur of numbness and woodcarving.
Every day the memory of the world in my drowning dream faded. Every day the memory of the lord doing nothing, caring only about his Returning, grew stronger. I told Father I’d tried to get the lord to help us. He didn’t care. I didn’t act soon enough. I wasn’t there when she died and faded into nothingness—neither were Elfriede or Jurij, apparently, but they didn’t merit Father’s blame. So I didn’t bother telling them about my dream. Why would they believe me? Why would they care? I hardly believed it myself.
The first thing I carved after Mother’s death was my own interpretation of a heartless monster. It was a beast like the beasts of legend, a wolf, a bear, and a snake, all in one. I left an open cavity over the left side of its chest to show that there was no heart within it. Father didn’t notice it. Elfriede gave me an uneasy smile and told me it may do some good scaring off rabbits from the garden. And that’s where she put it, half-buried in leaves and dirt.
The day before my seventeenth birthday there wasn’t enough scrap wood in the land for my trembling fingers. I finished the last few dozen projects I’d started—wooden animals, trees, and flowers—by adding a few more details than necessary. I ruined more than one, but my fingers wouldn’t stop peeling away at the layers of wood. I started new projects I knew I would never finish, but it was just as well because the most I could think of carving was a blob of mud or a wooden rock.
My effort wasn’t lost on Elfriede. Although, despite my better hopes, I thought she may have been more upset about the piles of sawdust all over her kitchen table than the reason for the mess. “Clean that off, will you? Father will be home soon.”
“Here, let me help.” Jurij released his hand from around Elfriede’s shoulder and the one being became two. I didn’t say anything as I set the carved pieces on the mantle, next to a wooden lily. Far better work than mine.
As Jurij wiped the dust into a rag, I numbly placed bowls and spoons for four people at our table. A brief jolt of pain brought me to life as I placed Jurij’s setting down next to Elfriede’s, and I thought of who had once sat there. “Ah. Good day, Jurij,” came a slow, slurring voice, a croaking echo of what it had been. I glanced up to see Father in the doorway. He stumbled his way to his chair, a shade of the father I had known.
Father had the same features, but they were muted somehow. His strong, dark chin poked through a rough, unkempt black-and-gray beard. His curls drooped and stuck out in all directions, although somehow the pointed tips of his ears made a slight appearance through the wild tangle of knots. His eyes sparkled, but in a different way than they once had. The flame within them burned as lightly as a candle in its final few moments before the wick withered away.
Perhaps that described my father. He had lost his sunlight and was left only with the dimmer echoes in the children she left behind. What room was there for happiness with the sun’s light gone forever? The moon alone could never be enough, not after years of dancing in the sun’s delight. It was just a matter of time. Nissa’s father had died the same evening as his wife. They rarely lasted beyond a year.
“Good day, Gideon,” said Jurij. He tore himself from Elfriede long enough to put his hand on Father’s shoulder. “How’re Vena and Elweard?”
“Huh?” asked Father absently. Often these days you had to ask a question more than once.
“The tavern masters,” I reminded him. Father practically kept them in business since Mother’s death.
“Oh, fine, fine.” Father’s eyes glossed over.
“Father?” I asked, covering his trembling hand with mine. He looked at me, the smallest of smiles edging onto his lips. The light flickered in his eyes. It was still there. Of course it was. But only just.
Jurij picked up Father’s and my bowls and brought them over to the fire. Jurij and Elfriede worked in perfect harmony, one ladling the stew and the other holding the bowls out to receive it.
“Vena asked about your wedding last night,” said Father as he withdrew his hand from mine. For a moment, my heart nearly stopped.
“And what did she want to know?” asked Jurij jovially. He placed the stew bowls in front of Father and me.
I felt a rush of relief. Of course. Their wedding.
Father smiled, his face almost as warm as it had once been, his eyes growing brighter. “How much ale you’ll need for the festivities, of course!”
Jurij shook his head as he grabbed the empty bowls for himself and Elfriede. “You know we only want a few bottles at the most.” He paused a moment as he slid soundlessly next to Elfriede. Even from the table, I could see the lines burrowed deep between her brows.
“Or maybe none at all,” muttered Elfriede. She plopped the stew into their bowls with a little less tenderness than was her custom.
My father’s face fell. “I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise you.”
No one spoke.
Father and I sipped from our stew for a few moments longer, and Jurij sat down next to us, placing the bowls on the table and picking up his spoon.
Elfriede lingered back at the pot for a few minutes longer, stirring and stirring. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her dab her cheek with her apron.
“Noll,” she said tentatively. She stirred the stew with a little too much interest. “Would you be willing to help Darwyn deliver the bread to the castle?”
I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. “I didn’t think the bakers were so busy they couldn’t spare a few dozen members of their family to deliver bread to His Lordship.”
“Noll. Help Darwyn deliver the bread,” interrupted my father. He tried to take a sip of his stew, but his hand shook and the stew slid off the spoon, spilling onto the table. Whether because he had now gone a short while without his bottle or because he could barely contain his rage at me, I wasn’t sure.
He only managed to truly seem among the living these days when it came to rejoicing in Elfriede’s wedding and lamenting my unspoken opposition to my own.
I glanced out the window. Newly unmasked Darwyn stood in front of our house next to his cart full of bread. Father had no doubt come straight with him from the village and had let Elfriede know ahead of time.
“I promised I’d meet Alvilda after lunch.”
“Noll, you need to stop with that woodworking—”
I didn’t let Father finish. I grabbed a chisel and a block of half-carved wood and bolted out of the door, walking straight past Darwyn—no doubt fuming with impatience to be done with the task and back in his goddess’s arms. I headed down the dirt path, my head held high in the west
ern direction.
The wheels on the cart squealed. Darwyn had no interest in waiting for me to change my mind. Just as well. I wasn’t going to.
Arrow bolted up the pathway from where he’d been playing nearby to lick me goodbye. I pulled the chisel out of his reach so he wouldn’t hurt himself and kept marching forward. Arrow followed me for a bit, jumping and yipping and straining against all hope that the wood I carried would prove edible. Perhaps to him it was.
“Arrow! Here boy!”
As I came over the hill, Arrow’s mistress echoed his name, and he went running. How like the master of the golden dog who’d birthed him.
Goodbye to you, too, Elfriede. I felt like a nuisance in my own home. Jurij had taken Mother’s place. Mine was practically taken by a dog.
It took me longer than it should have to cross the small distance to the Tailor’s. Weariness invaded my feet as the shop finally came into focus. My palm crushed against the uneven surface of the chisel handle, which showcased an elegant carving of a string of roses through which a series of butterflies fluttered their fair wings. It was one of my father’s better works, from back when he loved woodworking so much he even carved his tool handles. I could probably carve handles. But I wouldn’t forget the thorns on the vines and might include a few butterflies whose wings had ripped as they passed by them.
I stopped and took a closer look at the Tailors’ sign, which Father had carved some years ago. I would have put the image of the thread and needle looping through the letters in the word “Tailor.” I wondered if Alvilda would have a large piece of wood I could use to design my own sign for practice. If not, I could chop some down.
A shiver ran down my spine as the thought of the ax brought up faded memories of Avery from my dream. I’d left her before the dream had finished.
Anyway, signs take time. And you’re out of time, Noll.
The door to the shop opened abruptly, revealing the tired face of Mistress Tailor. Bow scampered out past her feet and jumped up to greet me. I placed the chisel and wood on the ground so I could take her head in my hands and rub her ears.
“You’re late,” said Mistress Tailor, not even bothering to greet me. “Why didn’t—” She glanced around and the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. “Oh. Noll. I thought Jurij might have been coming home. For once.”
“He’s at my place,” I said, although that was probably obvious. “If you’d like, I can tell him—”
She eyed the things I’d left on the ground and waved a hand. “No. Don’t bother. If you’re heading to Alvilda’s, send my husband over. There’s enough work around here for ten.” She turned to Bow. “Come on, do your business. Clothes aren’t going to sew themselves.”
I tucked my tool and wood block into my sash and started down the village path, but as I passed her, Mistress Tailor had one more thing to say. “I wish you the best tomorrow. Whatever ‘the best’ may be.”
I was taken aback. Mistress Tailor, the stout and surly woman of few words, had said what no one else would. And she seemed to honestly mean it.
“Thank you.”
Mistress Tailor practically growled. “All right. No use crying over the broken thread. I’m sure Alvilda will have some nice words for you.” With that, she and Bow went back into the Tailor Shop, and I was left to face the onslaught of people between one end of the village and the other alone.
If I thought I attracted attention before I became the lord’s goddess, for being a rambunctious child or for having no man to call my own, I had no idea of the type of interest I would have to deal with as the day of my supposed Returning approached.
“Blessed be your birthday tomorrow!” An unmasked man next to a stand of produce tilted his hat at me, the grin on his lips a sign he had no idea how his words cut me to the quick.
I mumbled my thanks, spinning to get out of the way of the tanner and his cart of hides, itching to get away from the busy path that led to the center of the village.
“Watch where you’re going, you foolish girl!”
The woman startled me and I nearly fell, flinging my hands out to steady myself. My fingers smacked against a wicker basket, my nails catching in a dark gauze laid over it. The gauze began to shift and I realized with horror what I’d done.
Not a basket. A bassinet.
“I’m so sorry, Ma’am!” I hurried to readjust the gauze, grabbing my finger with the other hand and carefully untangling the jagged nail from the thin material, all while not daring to look down. “Is he all right?”
“Oh. It’s you.” The woman struggled to balance a baby in the crook of her left arm with the handled bassinet slid across her right. The baby sucked its fist and leaned into her shoulder. She had powerfully dark brown eyes slightly covered by a mess of dark brown curls. “I apologize for yelling at you.” The mother bent awkwardly to tighten the gauze over the baby in the bassinet.
“You needn’t apologize,” I said. “I should have looked where I was going. I put your baby in danger.” I stared at the girl, the only type of baby I’d ever seen. “Twins?”
“Yes. The first goddess blessed me with both a girl and a boy, with a daughter to take care of me and my husband in our later years and a son to do the same for his goddess’s family, to learn the value of love.” She bounced her baby girl higher and shifted the bassinet onto her elbow once again. “It’s fine. It was an accident.” She smiled, falteringly. “We’re so looking forward to tomorrow. My husband is one of the men playing the music. We’ve already gotten the copper for it.” The baby on her left arm cried out suddenly, her face twisting in fury. “Shh, shh,” said the woman, rocking her back and forth.
I didn’t want to tell her there was nothing special “tomorrow.” Besides, I hadn’t gotten an invitation to my Returning. He must have assumed I’d go, but I had no plans to be there.
“Noll, praise the goddess!” A hand touched my shoulder. Elweard. He had a barrel under one arm and a grin that took up half his face. “Vena and I were just talking about you. We received so many coppers for the Returning—we’re so looking forward to finally meeting him, and thanking him for all his orders—and the invitation asked us to provide enough for the whole village to drink.” Elweard laughed, but he wasn’t one to wait for responses, which was just as well. “But he paid us far more than that! The village couldn’t possibly drink that much, even if there were enough wheat and grapes to make enough ale and wine, and we wondered if it would be wrong if we kept the copper and sent the two of you and his servants free drinks for life, or if the lord would need it back—”
Elweard droned on, and the woman curtseyed at me best she could with one screaming baby in her arms and the child’s twin joining in the cacophony from beneath his veil. Stepping aside and putting the bassinet on a bench in front of a nearby shop, she tugged at the gauze gently, shifting it so slightly I could hardly believe it moved at all.
“Noll?” Elweard’s voice drew me out of my reverie. “Do you need Vena to stand up for you and the lord? I know you probably have another in mind. Alvilda, maybe, since you’ve been helping her with carving, or your sister’s man’s mother—”
“No!” I gritted my teeth and fought hard to keep the anger buried within. The woman stood up, tightening the gauze over the bassinet, a deep breath visibly escaping her lips. I clutched my skirt with both hands as the woman disappeared into the crowd, that black gauze on the bassinet threatening to drown me in memories of the veiled lord, in images of me and him where Elfriede and Jurij had once stood, in him removing the veil, in what I would find beneath it … “No. Thank you, Elweard, but no.”
Elweard scratched his head. “All right. Vena thought we ought to offer, that’s all. But about the copper … ”
“I have to go.” I spun around, almost smacking into another woman. At least this one carried bread in her basket instead of babies.
“Oh my! Noll!” Mistress Baker placed a hand on her chest. “Just the woman I was about to go visit. I thought maybe I shoul
d ask which of these breads you want served at the ceremony and which we should just send home with everyone.” She shifted the loaves aside in her basket, producing one roll after another. “The lord sent us enough copper to feed the village three times over, so we’ve been working hard and making everything, but we simply can’t carry it all to the Great Hall tomorrow. My husband hasn’t slept a wink in days, I swear—”
I swirled around as if in a dance and darted through the crowd, leaving poor Mistress Baker to her breads and probable confusion once she looked up to find me gone.
Relief flooded my body when I finally made it across town to Alvilda’s. I almost tore the door open, but then I remembered her visitor and knocked before I entered. Alvilda told me to wait a moment, and then to let myself in.
“Good day, Noll!” called a cheerful voice as I entered. Master Tailor’s worn down owl mask greeted me from Alvilda’s ever-dusty eating table. “How goes the woodcarver’s daughter?”
I sighed and slipped into the seat next to him, placing the chisel and the wood on the table, where they seemed right at home. Alvilda was by her workbench, lost in the task of whittling a chair leg. I could see the as-yet-unfinished headboard propped up against the wall in the corner. She said nothing.
“The same,” I offered. I didn’t bother to ask whether he was inquiring about the daughter in front of him or the one who made his son’s life worth living.
Master Tailor answered for me. “I bet she’s excited about her wedding in the spring!” Even though everyone in the village was excited for the Returning, the most important things remained the same. Their own men, their own goddesses. Their children and the goddesses and men belonging to their children. I was just an excuse to have a celebration. Copper in their pocket, a day off from work.
Alvilda dropped the chair leg she was carving and shook her head in disbelief. She threw her gouge on the workbench, marched across the room, and whacked Master Tailor on the back of his head. Sawdust went flying with each movement.
