will take what they want of you, and not offer you a roof nor a bed in exchange for it.”
I said nothing, fearing his words were true. I heard him get to his feet and then shuffle back to his marriage bed. I lay still and sleepless the rest of the night, trying to pretend that I had said those words. The pendant lay against my skin like a cold toad; I feared to touch it to remove it.
I left the next morning, though Hetta near wept as she urged me to stay. All my possessions still made a light load. Bingtown was only two days away by foot, but even so, I’d only been there twice in my life. Both times, I had gone with my parents. My father had carried me sometimes on his shoulder, and my mother had cooked food for us at night. But they were both long gone. Now I walked the road alone, and my heart pounded fearfully at the sight of every passing traveler. Even when I was alone, fear rode with me, dangling from the necklace about my neck.
That night I left the road, to unroll my blanket in the lee of some rocks. There were no trees for shelter, no friendly nearby stream, only a hillside of lichen-sided boulders and scrubby brush. Hetta had given me a little sack of meal cakes to last me on my way. I was too frightened of thieves to build a fire that might draw them, so as the westering sun stole the colors from the day, I huddled in my blanket and nibbled on one of my meal cakes.
“A fine beginning to my new life,” I muttered when the last dry crumbs of the cake were gone.
“No worse than what other women of your line have faced,” whispered a voice. It came from my shirtfront. In an instant, I had snatched off chain and pendant and flung it from me. It caught on a bush and hung there, silver chain glinting in the last of the sunset. The dangling pendant came to rest facing me. Even in the fading light, I could see that it had taken on lifelike colors. It raised tiny eyebrows at me in disdain. “It’s a foolish choice you’re making, girl,” it warned me. “Throw me away, and you throw away your inheritance. Just as your grandmother did.”
Frightened as I was, the small voice was so like my grandmother’s that I could not ignore it. “What are you?” I demanded.
“Oh, come,” the pendant exclaimed in disdain. “I am exactly what you see and know me to be. Let us not waste time in foolishness.”
“You were gray and still when I took you from Grandmother’s jewelry box.”
“She had not worn me for many a year. She put me aside, just as she put aside the rest of her life. But you have revived me. You are young and your anma rushes strong as your blood through your veins.”
The pendant had a tiny voice, and despite my fear, I drew closer to hear her words. The eyes that met mine held kindly amusement. A smile bent the mouth. “What are you afraid of?” she demanded. “For generations I have been in your family, passed down from mother to daughter. With me comes all the wisdom of your line. You were wise enough to steal me. Are you so foolish that you will fear your fortune now that it is in your hands?”
“You’re magic,” I said. “You’re alive.”
“I am. And so are you, if you would bother to find it in yourself. It’s part of your inheritance, and if you are wise, it will be the first part you reclaim.”
“My inheritance?” I asked quietly.
The little eyes narrowed. “What goes with the empty ring that you wear. That is your inheritance. As you have donned both it and me, I suggest that you reclaim all that went with it. All that your Grandmother Aubretia possessed before she chose to set us aside and live quietly.”
It was growing darker. Strange as may be, the little carved face seemed like a companion in the night. I took up the pendant and held the carved face closer to my own so I could see her. “Tell me,” I begged. “For all the years that I lived with my grandmother and cared for her, I know little of her past.”
“Well.” The small dark eyes, so like my own, cast about consideringly. “Where shall I begin? Tell me what you do know of her.”
I cast my mind back. “She told me little. Mostly I have guessed. I think that when she was very small, her family was wealthy. She often warned me against trusting handsome young men. While I lived with her, she would not permit anyone to court me. So I think that—”
“You think that her heart was broken when she was young. And you are correct. Aubretia did grow up in a family that had substance if not real wealth. Her father died when she was young. The Lantis family had little wealth save their name, but her mother was wise and set aside an inheritance for her youngest daughter. It was her intention that her child need never marry for wealth, only for love. I told them I did not see why the two could not go hand in hand, but they both dismissed it as a jest. When your great-grandmother was on her deathbed, she passed me to her daughter. And she left this world in peace, knowing she had passed on both worldly wealth and a secret counselor to Aubretia.”
I tugged my blanket closer around my shoulders and leaned back against the largest rock. It still held some small heat from the day. I drew my knees up and set the pendant atop them to listen to her tale. Night crept closer around us.
“For a time, she lived wisely and well. Then she met a young man, a lovely young man. He was new to Bingtown, come to the great trading city to make his fortune. Howarth was a younger son, with no fortune to his name but rich in ambition. Aubretia would have married him a day after she met him, but he would not take her so. ‘When I have made a fortune of my own, then I will claim you as a bride. I will not have folk say I wed you for your money.’ And so Howarth courted her with bouquets of simple wayside flowers and sat in her house before her fire and told her daily of how hard he struggled to wrest out a living as a clerk in a mercantile. He often scoffed at the fellow who owned the store where he worked, for he said the man had no imagination in his dealings, and that he might easily be twice as successful if he had but a bit of daring and imagination. Howarth planned that as soon as he had money enough to finance it, he would go on a trading journey to far Jamaillia, and bring back fine goods such as all Bingtown would clamor to buy. On his dreams were your grandmother’s dreams founded.
“But her dreams and his were a long time in coming true. Your grandmother’s lover saved his coins, true, but Howarth no sooner had one to stack upon two than he had to spend it for new boots or a winter cloak. Your grandmother despaired that he would ever wed her. She begged him to marry her, saying she did not care if he was penniless, that with his job her inheritance would be sufficient for them both. But again he refused, saying he would not wed until he had built a fortune of his own.”
The pendant fell silent for a time, the small face gone pensive. I waited.
The small face pursed her lips in disapproval. “Then Aubretia had an idea. I warned her against it. In vain, I tried to persuade her to let this young man go his own way, but she would not listen. She went to Howarth and offered him money. He could take her money off to Jamaillia to buy the trade goods that would make them both wealthy. Half of whatever profits they made would be his, and then they could be married. He quickly agreed. Far too quickly for my liking.
“Howarth took her money and sailed away. Months passed, and Aubretia pined, but I was relieved, knowing that even though her money was gone, he was gone with it. She still had enough left to get on with, and now perhaps was wiser. But just when she began to put memories of him aside, he returned. He wore fine clothes and brought gifts with him, perfumes and silk, but little else. Most of the coin, he told her, had been spent to court trading partners in that distant city. All was in readiness, now, and as soon as he had worked hard and saved a bit of money, he could go south and make their fortune.”
My heart sank in me. I thought of my gentle grandmother and the unspoken sorrows that had seemed to live behind her eyes. “She believed him?” I murmured.
“Of course. And she persuaded him to take more of her money and set out again immediately. Aubretia kept back only the tidy little house she lived in, some family jewels, and enough to support herself until he returned. When over a year passed with no word from him, she admitted to me she had been a fool. More, she admitted it to her friends and they aided her, not only with money but with introductions to suitable young men. But she swore her love would not be easily won again. She lived quietly and simply and alone.”
“Until she met my grandfather?” I guessed.
The charm scowled at me. “Your grandfather was a hardhanded, flinty-hearted man. He married your grandmother solely to have someone to tend to his squalling son and keep his house in order after his first wife died of his ill treatment. She married him solely to have a place to rest her head at night. But he does not come into this story. Not yet.”
Ignoring my shocked silence, the pendant spoke on. “One cold wet evening, who should come and knock at her door but her wayward suitor. I thought surely Aubretia would drive him away, but she welcomed him in and unquestioningly embraced him. Howarth wept, telling her that all had gone awry for him, and that he had been too
