Acres and acres, and it’s mine, all mine! She giggled, remembering the punchline to a salacious joke she wasn’t supposed to have overheard.
Everything was as neat and clean as soap and water could get it, including the loft where her bed was.
And that, of course, would be another change. I remember when we cleaned this place up. Dirt had actually packed into the corners!
Still, that was a little uncharitable, for Justyn had kept his own treatment areas clean. It was just that -
Well, bachelors don’t seem to realize that dirt gets under things and into corners where you can’t see it. Bachelors think that as long as it’s not gritty underfoot, the floor’s clean.
It was time to think about making supper -
Or going to talk to the Fellowship. I think I’ll be lazy.
As she closed the door behind her, she realized that there was something gone from her - resentment. And another thing - a feeling of being desperately crowded.
It’s because now I don’t have to share anything, that’s what it is. Not the washbasin, not the chores, not a room. Bright Havens! I can choose to share, I don’t have to! I’m going to have privacy! Real, and total, privacy! She couldn’t remember having had complete privacy in her entire life. It was such an astonishing thought that she couldn’t think of anything else right up until the moment that she knocked on the door of the Fellowship’s Hall, their main building.
She recognized the old man who answered the door as the “Eldest” - not really a leader, but the oldest man of the founding family, the grandfather of Alys. As such, he had the authority to make simple bargains for the
Fellowship such as the one she had in mind without putting it to a vote.
“Eldest Safir,” she said, with a half-bow. “I have a proposition I would like to put to you.”
“Then please enter, Healer,” he told her, his expression carefully neutral. She entered and followed him into the communal hall where they all took their meals. At his invitation she sat down on a bench; he sat on one opposite her.
“May I hear your proposition, Healer?” he asked politely. “I cannot say yet if I may consider it alone, or the Fellowship as a whole must debate it.”
“I understand that, Eldest,” she replied, just as soberly. “It is a minor proposal - and simple. The Fellowship currently owes me for certain medicines and treatment for the sheep during the rains - I should like to barter that credit for a certain number of meals taken with you.”
The old man’s brows had furrowed during the first part of her statement, but rose to his hairline in surprise as she finished. “Don’t you have your own family?” he blurted.
“I have irregular hours, and it came to me today that we have far too many people stuffed into a single small house,” she said with a smile. “We all agree that I am fully adult, so I moved into my workshop, to free some space for my brothers. Since I will no longer be contributing to the family income, it seems wrong to take bread from their table.”
“I can see that.” He pondered the proposal while she waited patiently. “And I am certain that you already know of our custom of the hearth kettle.”
“Actually, Eldest,” she smiled, “I was counting on it.”
The “hearth kettle” was a kettle of soup or stew always kept on the kitchen hearth, so that anyone who was hungry could be fed. One of the Fellowship’s customs was that anyone who begged charity was granted three meals and a place to sleep with nothing in return asked of him - and the kettle also served a useful purpose for people whose lives were built around their animals, and who thus, at certain seasons, would also have “irregular hours.” Keisha could always count on getting a bite from the hearth kettle, day or night.
“Well, then - ” Now the old man smiled broadly, and Keisha knew she’d won him over. “What if I say that we will barter unlimited meals in return for all routine care? Not emergencies or unexpected illnesses, like the sheep just had, but all the routine health checks and medicines and tonics and so forth.”
She saw no point in bargaining further; this was exactly what she wanted. “Then I would say that the bargain is set.” She held out her hand.
He took it, and shook it three times to seal the bargain. “Will you stay for tonight’s dinner? We’ve egg-pie.” He raised his eyebrows again. “My wife Alse’s egg-pie.”
She sighed happily at the mere suggestion, and smiled at him. “Eldest,” she said with complete truth, “For your wife’s egg-pie I would arm-wrestle a bear.”
She returned to her cottage - her cottage, not her workshop anymore, and the mere thought filled her with proprietary pride - carrying a basket of warm rolls for breakfast and with the satisfied content of having had a truly fine meal. Alse had a way with spicing and adding chopped bacon and greens to egg-pie that raised the humble dish to something suitable for the table of the Queen herself. There could not have been a better omen for the start of her bargain with the Fellowship than that first meal.
She put the rolls away and lit two of her lamps, then went out into the garden to cut a few blooms for her vase. With lamps shining brightly and flowers on the table, she felt happier than she had for months.
And instead of studying, tonight she gave herself a holiday of sorts. With a small fire to warm the room, she picked up her knitting; with luck, she’d finish the back of the tunic tonight. That would leave the front and both sleeves to do before winter, which was hardly an insurmountable task.
She listened to the songs of crickets and tree-frogs, the murmur of voices in the houses nearest hers, and the distant rushing of the river. There were no shouting boys, no clumping boots - nothing but peaceful quiet.
Why didn’t I do this sooner? I’d have had far fewer headaches!
Perhaps because Shandi had kept peace in the house - or as much peace as anyone could. But surely at some point even Shandi had gotten tired of playing peacekeeper. . . .
Maybe that’s one reason why she was so ready to ride off to Haven. That, and Mum. Mum didn’t really want her to grow up, I think. Poor Mum: like it or not, children do, and there’s nothing to be done about it.
So, it could be that Shandi had done both of them a favor, by making the break clean and quick. Yes, and me, too. IfShandi’s grown up, I’m more than grown.
Was this how Shandi felt now, on her own, making her own decisions, having a place she could truly say was hers and no one else’s? If so, Keisha was glad for her; it was a fine feeling, and one she would be glad to share.
I hope she has a room of her own at that Collegium place. She certainly deserves one at this point.
She’d always been an early riser - more from necessity than virtue, it was true, but a Healer didn’t have much choice in the matter - and it had been a long day. She found herself yawning over her work just as she bound off the knitting, and realized that there were no noisy boys to keep her awake if she tried to go to sleep “early.” She lit a lantern in the loft, blew out the two downstairs, and banked the fire for the morning. As she went back up to the loft to change for bed, she sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity had put this notion of moving into her mind. And if it’s the spirit of Wizard Justyn, who didn’t want his cottage to stand empty most of the time, thank you, too!