Emerence, who attended a few of the smaller Delyalda parties each year but eschewed the bigger events, suddenly found renewed interest in the annual celebration. Foolish, foolish old maid, a voice inside her admonished. She ignored it.
“Have you attended Delyalda before?” Gaeres shook his head. “Then you’re in for a treat. There are far more events going on than you can possibly attend even were you to stay for the entire festival. I can assure you that neither you nor your cousins will lack for things to do.”
“Will you also be attending these celebrations, Madam Ipsan?”
His question took her by surprise, as had many of his actions and statements in the short time since they’d crossed paths. Emerence glanced at Omeya who returned her look with a shrewd one of her own but said nothing. Surely Gaeres wasn’t hinting at wanting her company? Then again, she was a logical choice for such help. She was local with in-depth knowledge of the city and the festival, the perfect guide for newcomers looking to attend the best events. Were she not so buried in work, she might have offered to take on the role.
“I’ve grown too busy and too dull over the years to take part in all but a handful of festival gatherings,” she said, giving him a smile so he’d know she didn’t really mind that fact. “If you’d like to know the best things to attend, my clerk Kaster is a font of knowledge. I can send him to your camp once his work shift is done and he can give you his recommendation of the best gatherings to visit.”
Their respite ended with the emptying of the teapot, and they all turned tot he business at hand. Gaeres opened the packages Emerence had set on the second table in the room, spreading their contents across its surface.
Swaths of wool dyed in both vibrant and muted colors, the weaves tight and durable while still being soft, warm, and light as spiderweb were laid out for Emerence’s inspection. Tocqua had ordered several bolts of dyed wool from the Quereci, not just the extravagant amaranthine. Emerence exclaimed over the beauty of each item, imagining shawls and scarves, head wraps and cloaks edged in fur or lined with tiny, semi-precious stones and carved beads.
Omeya opened the last package herself. This was why they’d made the cold, arduous trip from the plains to the canyon in the dead of winter.
“My gods,” Emerence exclaimed in a reverent voice at her first sight of the rich purple cloth, nearly black in places where the folds created pockets of shadow.
The Kai made amaranthine, and the skeins they dyed and exported to the Gauri in the south commanded a high price, even higher now as that kingdom still reeled from the aftermath of a demon attack on a massive scale. Tocqua refused to tell Emerence how he’d gotten his hands on the costly skeins this far north, but he’d put them to good use, commissioning the Quereci, renowned weavers, to make this stunning cloth.
“Once more the Quereci prove their prowess at weaving,” she said, sliding her fingers along one of the cloth’s edges. “This is extraordinary.”
Omeya beamed. “You’re pleased then?”
“Thrilled,” Emerence assured her. “As my father will be. As the lucky bride will be, and her groom as well. Shall we settle accounts?”
She left them to retrieve her accounts ledger and quill and ink. When she returned, they’d already cleared the table and stacked the bolts of cloth neatly to one side, the amaranthine bolt carefully folded and placed atop the stacks.
Once the sale was recorded and money exchanged, she escorted the Quereci back through the shop and onto the street. Evening came early these days and the air had turned even more brittle. The heavy sky was darker, grayer, and Emerence smelled snow.
“You’ll not want to linger behind the walls,” she told them. “Or you’ll end up trudging through a snowfall to reach your camp.” Making your way anywhere in the dark under a heavy snowfall made for a miserable, half-blind journey, no matter how short or long.
Still, the Quereci hesitated. It was Gaeres who explained their hesitation. “The man in the street earlier. Is he a danger to you? Will he return?”
It was thoughtful of them to ask, and while she couldn’t guarantee Culkhen wouldn’t return to plant himself on the walkway to harass passersby and slander the Ipsan name, Emerence didn’t think him a danger. “Culkhen is a nuisance who finds courage at