by Moose Tyler
The light dimmed. Amaria looked around and saw citizens cupping the torches.
A girl hurried over to their table and scooped up Penelope’s plate. “Finished?”
Amaria snagged the last sweet roll before she snatched up her plate and took it away.
Penelope stood up and stretched. “Looks like they’re kicking us out.”
Amaria stood and gobbled down the roll as she and Penelope walked to the archway. They passed the main stall. Sheila sat on a stool rubbing her foot as her assistants finished cleaning.
“Cecile,” she shouted, “if you forget to hang the cloths again tonight, I’ll have you chopping greens tomorrow the old way.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cecile said before hurrying off.
Amaria waved. “Thanks again, Sheila.”
Penelope smiled. “Yes, thank you. It was divine.”
Sheila switched feet. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered.
Outside the common area, the torches had been lit, and the sounds of nighttime activity from more populated parts of the island could be heard in the distance.
“When is your next lesson?” asked Penelope.
“First light. You?”
“After midday’s horn.”
“Wonder if we’ll have any at night.”
“Bekos has most of hers then, so maybe.”
“If I were Bekos I’d have mine at night, too. Zora’s painful to look at in full light.”
Penelope laughed. “Now, Amaria. She’s our sister.”
Amaria rolled her eyes.
Penelope stopped laughing. “She is, and she’d be really pretty if it wasn’t for—”
“—Her face?”
Penelope pursed her lips to force back a smile. “I was going to say heart.”
“So, that’s two things that make her ugly.”
“Zora’s not ugly, Amaria.”
“So now you’re a fan?”
“I didn’t say that. She’s ugly because she’s weak in character, not because she lacks beauty. No warrior is ugly, and you’re a fool if you think so. Even you. Wash the dirt off your face, put on a proper tunic, and you’re as stunning as the queen.”
Amaria laughed. She had seen her reflection in weapons, shields, water, drawings, and a horse’s eye, but from what she could tell, the queen was far prettier, though Penelope did have a point.
“Okay, so Zora’s pretty on the outside.” Amaria made a face. “Happy?”
“That didn’t taste too bad, did it?”
Though she didn’t always like it, she respected Penelope’s honesty. Amaria shook her head. “Like lasting berries plucked too soon.”
“Well, it’s best to swallow them and move on.”
“Or spit them in the trees.”
Penelope laughed. “We always have our choices.”
“You sound like a sage.”
Penelope bowed. “May the Great Mother bestow Her blessings on you for saying so.”
“I’m just praying for a good night’s sleep and a better tomorrow.”
“Then so shall it be.” She linked her arm through Amaria’s and pulled her away from the common area and towards the main path, “but first, let’s walk to Honeys and load up on sweet crawlies, so our dreams will be divine.”
“I didn’t bring any arrowheads.”
“Of course you didn’t, which is why it is my treat in honor of the end of the beginning of our last stage before becoming warriors.”
Amaria smiled. “Thanks, P.”
“You’re welcome. Now, let’s go get stuffed.”
Penelope bought enough sweet crawlies to feed a bow team, and she and Amaria ate nearly every one as they walked home and discussed their plans for the next evening. When they came to the first turn in Southern Bend, Penelope gave the sack to Amaria.
“Save me a seat, if I’m late. Sleep well. May the Great Mother bless you with a better tomorrow.”
Amaria finished off the last few crawlies. “All in Her name.” She crumpled the sack into a ball.
Penelope stuck out her hand and took the trash.
“I think there’s one left.”
“Thanks.”
Penelope started whistling as she turned and walked away, and Amaria continued along the path.
All warriors had houses, even after they took their shield and moved to the warriors’ camp. Lived in or not, a warrior’s house belonged to that warrior and her family until all were dead. Amaria’s house was off the fourth turn in Southern Bend. It overlooked the shoreline and had been built long before Amaria came to the island. It was conveniently located with easy access to the beach, common area, east docks, the archery range, and the artists’ camp. The house was made of stone, and two warriors’ families, all killed in the wars of the ancestors, had lived there before.
Most citizens lived in small, wooden dorms scattered across the island. Some of the wealthier ones owned houses, a few even made with stone, though most were thatch and wood, but no citizen’s house, no matter how rich, came with a private bathing pool, water source, two fire pits, a hearth, storage barn, and a garden. Only warriors’ houses had those.
Inside Amaria’s home, squares had been cut in the roof and white cloth covered the gaps, allowing for plenty of light and breeze to pass through. Standing in the entryway looking north, there was a good-sized sitting area for entertaining. To the west, off to the side, was a long dining table with an area dedicated to meal preparation. From there was a door that opened to a rocked path that led to the garden, storage barn, and main fire pit.
To the east of the entry was the hearth, which was the place her mother drank tea and had smaller social gatherings and private family traditions, like gift giving for birthdays, on Genesis, and during the Great Harvest.
Past the hearth was a room for Amaria and Sakina and another for their mother and Telsa. Separating the two was a library. The library had a large glass door in the back that opened to a seating area with a smaller fire pit. Beyond that, protected by a veil of drooping trees, was the water source and bathing pool. Amaria and Sakina had spent countless heartbeats pleading with their mother to turn the library into a third bedroom, but she never would.
“It’s not fair for Telsa to get her own room,” she would say.
Amaria’s house was certainly not the biggest in Themiscia. Those were mostly located in the east. Some of them belonged to warriors still serving, but others had been repurposed as businesses like Second Hands and Madame Shaw’s or as checkpoints, decoys, or supply posts.
Though Amaria’s house wasn’t the biggest, it still took at least four citizens to maintain, or at least it would have had her mother allowed it. As it was, the entire estate was managed by Fi, an island-born a thousand cycles old, or so it seemed. She had been Amaria and her sisters’ caretaker while their mother got education after they had arrived. She was the first Themiscian to hold Amaria, after the queen.
In Amaria’s opinion, Fi didn’t really manage the estate. She just tended the garden and sat around drinking tea and telling stories. Telsa had been responsible for the dusting, Sakina the dishes, and Amaria the hearth. Everyone did their own laundry and kept the dining area, the library, and their rooms clean. Their mother did almost everything else, including cooking, mending, washing the bathing pool, and disposing of the waste bucket. Of all the other warriors training to take the shield, few had chores like Amaria and her sisters had.
It wasn’t until Amaria had returned from her quest in the Great Ravine, after Telsa had moved to the sages’ temple permanently, that Fi brought on a second maid. Gypsus was also island-born and came from a long line of respected maids. When Hera banished women, she banished generations. Gypsus’s mother served the queen. Her older sister was the queen’s personal messenger, and her younger sister was training at the sages’ temple as third maid to Anthea. He
r aunt was first maid to Janus, and her grandmother owned Second Hands, the biggest general purpose store in Themiscia.
On her first day as second maid, Amaria’s mother had told Gypsus what chores she was responsible for. She was to take over Telsa’s dusting duties, clean the bathing pool and, since Fi struggled bending over, she was to help tend the garden and yard surrounding the house. She also ran errands, washed fruits and greens, and did other odds and ends.
Amaria’s mother had made it clear that Gypsus was not responsible for the hearth, dishes, laundry, library, or Amaria and Sakina’s room, which was a shame because Sakina was a messy roommate.
When she and Amaria had lived together, Amaria had to store all her clothes in the cabinet drawer, her trunk, and in piles under the bed. Her trinkets, crowns, and other treasures were in a basket in the corner, and her sandals and other training gear were in another basket in the library. The rest of the room belonged to Sakina. Her kilts and chest pieces covered the chair and littered the rug. Her sandals were like rocks in the path, and she had more tunics than Amaria cared to count. They spilled out of the cabinet and were hanging on the walls like paintings.
One of Sakina’s biggest complaints during Quest Training was about having to decide which tunics to take to the warriors’ camp and which to leave behind, once she had taken the shield. Warriors were only allowed two trunks, one for weapons and one for clothes and personal items. What to do with the rest of what they owned was up to each warrior. Some sold their clothes, weapons, and other valuables. Some donated. Most kept a few personal items in their storage barns. Sakina had lugged five barrels stuffed with clothes, jewelry, and trinkets she couldn’t bear to part with to their barn. Telsa had only packed two when she moved to the sages’ temple. Amaria would likely have three, one for weapons and another for the bear hide and white wool blankets she got from the Sacred Peacock, with her crowns, the glass bowl from Ursula, and the Four Crowns game set Penelope had given her swaddled in between. The third would be the survival barrel she already kept in the barn that had extra breathing reeds, climbing ropes, arrows, and other essentials.
After Sakina moved to the warriors’ camp and her keepsakes had been lugged to the barn, Amaria was free to do as she pleased with the room. She moved all her clothes to the cabinet, placing the few tunics and fancier garb on the hooks inside and organizing the water pants, fighting kilts and chest pieces by use and color in the drawers. She lined her sandals according to thickness and height underneath the cabinet and moved her trunk to the foot of the bed. She positioned her trinkets around the room, and tacked her crowns, two of Ursula’s drawings, and some target parchments on the walls. She filled in the empty space with decorative blades and arrows.
Gypsus started tidying the room after Sakina had left, though it wasn’t part of her responsibilities and, in Amaria’s opinion, no longer required. Amaria was particular about her quarters and kept them spotless. All Gypsus had to do was some light dusting of trinkets and a hard pounding of the rug every full moon. Amaria took care of the rest. She tidied up every night no matter how tired she was and would set out what she planned to wear the next day before saying prayers. She had formed the habit while living with Sakina. After many moons of early workouts, Amaria didn’t need help waking before first light. She did so naturally, and when she did wake, she was usually alert and ready for action. Sakina was the opposite. If Amaria made too much noise before the bird’s crow, she would yell and chuck sandals at her until she got out of the room. Before, setting out clothes had saved Amaria from getting whacked in the head. Now, the habit gave her a few heartbeats for more important things like extra workouts.
As she neared the fourth turn in Southern Bend, she contemplated what clothes to wear for her next lesson with Wanje. The dark green kilt and chest piece was the likely choice. She had worn it to many lessons, and the cloth was second skin. When she entered the front yard of her house, she saw that the torches lining the path were burning. Those where only lit when her mother was entertaining.
“Great Mother,” she quietly cursed.
It could be anyone. She often came home to a full house. Her mother was social and well-respected among the citizens, be it the farmers, healers, game tenders, weapon makers, architects, dock workers, or any other.
Amaria looked up and saw thin wisps of smoke streaming out of the top of the house. The hearth was in use. She cursed again. She had forgotten to prep the wood after morning dine, which meant that either Gypsus or Amaria’s mother had taken care of the duty.
“Please be Gypsus. Please be Gypsus.”
She walked to the door and stopped. On the other side was likely an intense interrogation from her mother about the status of her tunic, the result of her first lesson, and the reason why she didn’t finish her chores, all with guests present. Great Mother only knew how many would be gawking at the scene. She exhaled slowly as she turned the knob and went inside to face whomever was sitting by the hearth.
When Amaria entered her house, the smell of softening cream was thick in the air. Her mother was always rubbing it on her elbows, hands, ankles, and knees. She used so much that she had a standing order at Scented Goddess. It was one of the few luxuries she allowed herself. She said it was her secret weapon when others commented on how well she was aging and asked for tips.
From the entryway, Amaria did a quick scan of the formal sitting and dining area before focusing on the main target. Her mother sat alone by the hearth in the small chair that faced the entryway. Though it was warm inside and the fire was burning, she wore an evening robe and had a cloth wrap around her head. She was too informally dressed for anyone other than Fi, Gypsus, or possibly Olympia, her closest friend. Anyone else and Amaria’s mother would have been wearing a tunic of some sort, how fancy depended on the company. She picked up a tea cup from the table beside her and took a sip.
Amaria stepped out of the entryway. “Before you say anything about the tunic, let me explain. I must have snagged it at Terra’s or something, and there’s all those hills and trees. Wanje’s surprisingly fast for how old she is.” Amaria laughed.
Her mother didn’t. She took another drink of tea.
Amaria adjusted her stance. “It ripped again when I sat on the bench. The lesson ran so late, and I didn’t have a mending kit.”
Her mother snorted a laugh before setting her cup down. “You? Mend?”
“Yes.” Amaria looked down. She wasn’t sure where the mending kit was let alone how to use what was inside.
“This I must see.”
“I can’t. My next lesson is at first light at Mesha Cliff, and I still haven’t picked a weapon.”
“This decision takes all night?”
“There’s a lot to consider, and I need to be comfortable. Not like today. Today was a mess. Look at me.”
“I’m looking.”
“I didn’t even need to wear this. Wanje didn’t care, and there were others wearing fighting kilts.”
“Well, why did you wear it? Especially that one. You have better tunics, Amaria.”
“Sakina told me I’d draw too much attention if I didn’t and said this tunic looked best.”
“I think Sakina was having some fun with you.”
“Agreed, but I can’t worry about that now. I have to decide on a weapon, another thing I’m not happy with Sakina about. Had she not—”
Her mother’s eyes darted to something behind her and to the left. Amaria turned. Sakina stood in the dining area holding a bundle of firewood. She wore a long yellow fighting kilt and black chest piece, and her hair was styled in its usual manner.
Others frequently changed how they looked. Penelope had five or so ways she wore her hair, depending on the occasion, and one never knew what to expect from Ursula. In Amaria’s family, however, everyone preferred consistency. Her mother kept her hair shorter. It was dark brown with a few grey curls on the left side.
Telsa’s hair was the color of honey, and she kept it slicked back and in a single braid down her back. Amaria’s braids, which she tied back in training, sprang out of her head and hung to the middle of her back like drooping tree branches. Sakina’s hair was lighter than Amaria’s in color, but instead of having a lot of braids, she had two wrapped tight around her head. She was a climber, and the style kept branches and twigs from snagging as much.
Sakina smiled. “Had Sakina not done what?”
“Your sister came to wish you a happy first lesson, Amaria.”
Sakina walked out of the dining area. She was shorter and thinner than Amaria, but what she lacked in physical power she made up for with a sharp tongue.
She crossed to the hearth. “Happy first lesson, Sister. Consider doing your chores my gift.” She set the wood down, smiled, and looked at Amaria from head to toe. “An artist should paint your portrait. This spectacle must live on.”
Amaria blushed, but before she could utter a comeback, Sakina had sat down and moved on to another subject. “What’s this about climbing Mesha Cliff at first light?”
Part of what made Sakina a good climber was how quiet she could be. She had clearly been listening, undetected, to the conversation for several heartbeats. She leaned back. “I’m jealous. That climb’s view at first light, I’ll be blessed if I get to see anything half as divine in my day.”
Though Amaria wanted nothing more than to take off the tunic and chuck it in the fire, she sat on the bench next to the hearth. She looked at their mother. Her head was leaned back, and her eyes were closed. Amaria looked at Sakina. “Do you have patrols tomorrow?”
Sakina stood up and walked into the dining area. “Yes, early. I’ll have a few heartbeats to spare before the council meeting.” She returned carrying a fruit bowl and sat down. “Need me to help you pick out something to wear?”
“Because this was such a good suggestion?”
Sakina laughed. “I’m sorry.” She extended the bowl to Amaria.
