water, a whiff of leather, hay, a rose. It was odd. There were suddenly too many smells. And he realized he’d been smelling too many things for some time now.
He glanced to the back of the house where the women were. Their talking had quieted. One woman sat breaking beans, glancing his way. Then he saw Atra. She walked past the other woman, picked up a basket, then walked out of his line of sight.
He heard a sound from behind. He turned slightly. Someone hid halfway behind a tree trunk a few paces behind him, holding a long arching stem of wild, white rose.
“Hoy, Elan,” said Talen.
She quickly moved back behind the tree.
He wondered if half-wits had any special feelings for the opposite sex. You couldn’t tell for sure because her face defied a precise age, but he guessed Elan was perhaps twenty-five years old: well beyond the age of marriage. He wondered if she dreamed of some handsome man giving her children and if she knew that such a dream would never become reality for her.
“There’s a fine scent on the breeze that I cannot identify,” he said. “I wish I knew what it was.”
He glanced back, but she did not reveal herself.
He wondered how long it would take to get the glass master. Even if he did agree to send some of his men, Talen would probably end up waiting here for an hour or two. An hour or two that could land them in more danger.
He heard footsteps and turned around, only to come face-to-face with Elan. The rose stem in her hand was about three feet long and bent over to the ground. She held it out to him, beaming with delight.
Elan had a yellow ribbon tied in her hair. It did not do anything for her. In fact, it looked as if it had somehow snagged there.
“Muffin,” she said.
“Talen,” he said. “You must call me Talen.”
“Muffin,” she said and smiled her huge smile. She was missing a few teeth. And while he could see no long hairs growing from the large mole on her cheek, he could see a distinct shadow of a mustache.
Talen shook his head. She’d called him Muffin Bunny ever since she’d caught him that one time.
Then she straightened and said something.
Talen couldn’t understand her. She spoke like she had a severe sore throat. “What?”
“I had a man call. Da made a good bargain.”
At least that’s what he thought she said. A man called for Elan?
“Really?”
“I a strong worker,” she said. “I better than a watchdog with babies. I not some cheap servant.”
“I’m sure,” said Talen.
“He paid gold.”
Who would pay gold for Elan? It didn’t make sense. She was not bright, but maybe she was indeed a hard worker. Life had many simple tasks. Maybe the best deal the glass master could get was to sell her as a servant. He wondered: would the purchaser treat her kindly?
“I hope it goes well for you,” said Talen.
“Muffin Bunny,” she said. “You wet.”
Then Atra called Elan.
“He here!” Elan shouted back.
Talen turned and saw Atra walk down a path that led from the back door of the house. She was wearing a sky blue, sleeveless surcoat. The armholes were huge and showed her bright red tunic underneath. The effect with her black hair was stunning.
Talen’s heart jumped. He took a breath. His hair was sopping wet, so he released the thong that held his long hair together, smoothed back as much water as he could, and quickly retied it.
By the time he finished, Atra stood next to Elan.
She looked at Talen with a sad smile then said, “Elan, you’re not done inside yet.”
“I found him,” said Elan. “I found him, Atty.”
“Elan,” said Atra a bit more forcefully.
Elan sniggered then walked back to the house. Before she went inside, she shouted out, “Atra told me a secret!”
Atra only rolled her eyes.
Elan was a half-wit, but she had clearly enough wit to tease her sister. Talen smiled. There was more to Elan than he had suspected.
Atra waved at Nettle.
“A secret?” asked Talen.
Atra shrugged. “Don’t listen to her.
“How’s the captain’s son?” she called out with some tease and walked toward Nettle.
“Loafing,” he said.
Atra wore working clothes. The sky blue of the surcoat was from woad, not the expensive mollusk blue. And the red was not the scarlet of the grain, but something else. Beautiful but practical.
Talen looked at Atra’s smooth cheeks and nose. He looked for a pimple, and saw none. How was such skin possible?