This was the path she took, and it was on the very edge of the little cave where she stood and peered into the inky blackness. Eyes wouldn’t be much use here, even with a torch, she knew, ears being the sense organ of choice. She listened but the pounding waves drowned out everything else.
“I’m back,” she said, a little hesitantly. “I won’t be leaving again either… probably ever.”
The only response was a mist of sea spray from a particularly juicy wave soaking her right cheek. The cool wetness was a welcome reminder she was home and for all she knew, she might be talking to an empty cave.
Reaching into the pocket of her dress, she pulled out a wrapped bundle. Peeling away the wax cloth, she plucked the revealed lump out and set it just inside the entrance to the cave.
“I brought you a present. It comes from the northern forests. It’s called birch sugar and it’s very sweet. I don’t know if you’re mad at me. I tried to say goodbye, to explain where and why I was going, but I don’t think you understood. Anyway, I’m back.”
She left the offering and backed away from the cave, setting her backside against a fairly smooth outcrop of rock. But although she waited a full twenty minutes, nothing happened. Finally, she stood up, dusted off her dress, and began the climb back up the narrow path. Just before the top, right where the trail switched back to give her the slimmest view of the cave’s opening, she glanced down. The brick of tree sugar was gone and her heart lifted, her fatigue from the day’s trials momentarily washed away. Her offering had been accepted.
She made it back to the house fifteen minutes before her father did, him returning with a brace of bluebellies. “They were caught in the minnow trap, which I forgot to pull before we left,” he explained. “I think they got inside the weir and ate so many fingerlings that they grew too big to get back out. Not a single bait minnow to be found. So I cleaned them and used the offal to bait the pots. They’ll make a fine dinner.”
“I haven’t had bluebelly since before we left,” she said, happy with the surprise meal. “Nobody in Idiria serves it.”
She expertly filleted the fish as any child of the island would, then oiled a pan and fried the fillets with rosemary, thyme, and parsley from the garden to accompany the squash she was roasting in the oven. After they supped, her father washed the dinner dishes while she finished unpacking her clothes from the trip. Exhausted from the long day of travel and the excitement of the village gathering, she slipped into bed early, thinking of the long list of chores to accomplish in the days ahead.
They were both up early the next day, breaking their fast on bread left over from the party, liberally coated with butter that was also a parting gift from Lottie Stumbler.
“I have to meet with the village council today,” Armond told her as they ate. “There are payments to be made and arrangements for the Realm Holder’s witchwood order.”
She knew that many of the island inhabitants had shared in their good fortune, as Armond had sent home for both prepared wood and some finished items in order to fill the apartment in Idiria.
“I have a full day of cleaning and gardening,” she said in reply. “We are behind in harvesting and storing food. I noticed the buckleberries are ripe, so I have to pick them now or they’ll be gone to the birds.”
“Nira, it’s only good and proper to save and use what we can from the land and sea. It’s the right way of things, but I also don’t want you to fret and worry. Our time in Idiria was also a harvest, such a one as we are not likely to see again, except when your young lord and lady come calling. The gold that we earned will easily cushion any shortage and still make provider for both of our futures.”
“Yes Papa. It’s just that I can hear Momma’s voice in my head, telling me not waste what the goddess has provided.”
“I miss her too, Nira,” he said, eyes glimmering. “Now, I can’t have helped but notice there were some changes among your agemates.”
“If you are dancing around the topic of Nattle and Keply, don’t bother,” she said with a cross note in her voice. “You have always said that things change rapidly for young people. I don’t know if I’m madder at her for stepping in so quick or him for stepping out.”
“I’ve always been of a mind that young Nattle was too simple of a lad to keep up with a girl of your wit and thoughtfulness,” he said, clearly uncomfortable.
Nira snorted. “Nattle is a visual sort, Papa. And Keply has always had plenty to look at that he wanted. But I was only gone two months?”
“Which can be a lifetime to the young,” her father said. “You have a big future ahead of you, Nira. You’ve traveled and become friendly with some of the most important people in the land, you kept up your learning far beyond your peers, and your wedding dowry will be the largest on this island, if I do say so myself. I can’t say I’m unhappy that it won’t be wasted on young Nattle.”
Her father left soon after their morning meal, taking the trail back to town, and she changed into old work clothes and set about cleaning the stone cottage and then tackling the garden. Watering was the full extent of the neighbor’s care, so she had weeding and harvesting to keep her busy until the
