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Daily Archives: September 16, 2013
- by Tara Maya
16. After the Farmers Left
…take my leave now, however, as I must also visit Full Basket clandhold before the sun sets.”
Is there anything else I could do to convince Abiono not to invite me to become a Tavaedi? Dindi despaired while the rest of the clan fussed over Abiono’s departure. My life is a colossal joke that’s funny to everyone but me. Uncle Lobo was still chortling.
Once the guest was gone, taking the excitement with him, a general exodus out of the kitchen followed. One by one the others finished, burped and left, until only Dindi and her mother remained. The kitchen was very hollow and empty without three dozen bodies filling it with life. The smell of farmers’ sweat lingered, mixed with spicy food aromas and smoke from the burning dung.
Dindi sniffled.
“Lady of Mercy,” said Mama under her breath. Muttering to her- self, she went to the oven, where she placed a dollop of bean mash from a storage pot onto a piece of flat bread. She laid cheese on top, and folded over the three corners of the bread. She placed it on the pottery bread shovel and pushed it into the oven, which was kept stoked all day. When she decided that the pisha was crisped to her satisfaction, she pressed it into Dindi’s hands. “Eat, eat.”
Dindi pushed it away. She hid her blue face against her drawn up knees.
“You behave a like a child,” Mama said. She lifted Dindi’s chin. “But you’re twice seven years, now, sweetling, and past your moon-blood. If you lay with a man, he could make you a mother.”
“I know I’m a burden to everyone around me. I try to do what’s right, but everything I weave gets tangled.”
“There is still a chance you will be chosen.” “Great Aunt Sullana obviously doesn’t think so.” “What does she know?” “Maybe something I don’t,” said Dindi. She lifted her head just enough to peer at her mother through tear dewed eyelashes. “You weren’t chosen.”
Mama stilled. “No. I wasn’t.”
“But you could have been the best dancer of your generation. Everyone thought so. Then, one day, instead of choosing you to dance magic, they told you could never dance, ever.”
“It…wasn’t as bad as all that,” Mama said. “By then, I had your father. Soon I was trying hard to have a child. Sometimes you have to let a dream die.”
“I just want to dance.”
“Oh, Dindi.” Mama put down the pisha. “If you won’t eat, at least let me clean you up.”
She went to the shelves in the corner. There she fiddled with various jars, until she returned with noxious, sharp smelling goo on a rabbit skin cloth.
“Come here, my little blueberry face,” she said, taking Dindi by the chin. Mama wiped the ick on Dindi’s cheeks and scrubbed. Hard.
“Ow!”
“Stop wiggling.”
“Are you washing me or flaying me?”
“If you prefer, we can just rub blue soap over the rest of…
Author’s Note
For some reason, my mother really likes this scene.
About the Artist
Julia, today’s artist, does the most amazing pencil portraits on commission. I mean, they are wow. And her prices are extremely reasonable. You should check out her site!
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Here’s what she says:
TO BE CONTINUED
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The pencil portraits that I make are not sketches but very detailed portraits made in 20-30 hours.
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- by Tara Maya
Disciple, Part III by L. Blankenship
Today I’m excited to share an excerpt from L. Blankenship’s Disciple, Part III as part of her blog tour for its release. Disciple is a gritty fantasy romance that can be a bit gory, so might be best enjoyed by older readers.
(Even though the city is preparing for a siege, Kate and Sir Anders manage to find time to eat dinner together and the community potluck.)
We ate in silence for a stretch, working through potatoes, roasted spring onions, and pastries filled with egg and cheese. The Order’s kitchen offered only herbal teas, now, as they’d run out of small beer.
Our arms brushed, now and then, and we traded a snippet of smile back and forth. Easy and simple, two friends sharing a meal. It left me warm.
Anders broke the quiet as his trencher neared bare. “The Guard in my squad have been asking, since it’s more than odd now — why I’ve no token on my helm.” He paused, risked a glance at me. “I said I didn’t need one, I was only tending the stable. Not riding escort.”
He left it there. “But now you are,” I said. He’d never worn a lady’s token, so I wasn’t sure why he brought it up now.
“It needn’t be anything special — any kerchief would do.”
He wanted —? My token. His wife, and a lady. Neither title would jump to my mind easily, still. I breathed a chuckle without meaning to. “One of mine? I never wear a kerchief.”
I still wrapped my braid in a bun, most days, but sometimes I gathered it up in the crespine that Frida had given me. The close weight of it on my neck, and the band across my head, still felt odd.
“If it’s a physician’s favor, a bandage would be fitting,” he said, and smiled with a twist. “Should I need one, it would be quite convenient.”
I couldn’t help smiling at that. But our supply of bandages was already walking out of the hospital on wounded men, and rarely returning. “Surely you could buy me a kerchief that would do.”
Anders’ smile dropped away. My heart dropped with it. He shifted back, then turned to what was left on his trencher. I barely caught his mutter, even so close to him. “If you don’t wish me luck, then best to do without.”
“Why wouldn’t I —” I’d stepped in something, that was clear. “Of course I wish you luck. Not that you need it, but if you think my wishes will help…” That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, though. He didn’t look up until I touched his arm. Such blue eyes, and so quick to retreat from me. “Mother gave me a wimple, but it draws so much attention to wear one outside Engl Street. It’s a nice, light green and it’ll look fine on your helm.”
He pressed his mouth in a line, then asked, “Have you worn it?”
I’d hardly unfolded it. “Must I have?”
“It’s meant to —” Anders put up a hand to fend it all off. “Pay it no mind.” He got up from the bench, taking his cup of tea as he went.
“Anders —” An edge of pleading wormed into my voice. I wanted a chance to mend my mis-step.
But he wouldn’t look back.
Disciple, Part III back cover
Kate fought for her place as a healer in the war’s front lines. Serving her homeland has been her goal since her magical gifts earned her a coveted apprenticeship with the kingdom’s greatest healer. She believes she’s prepared.
But nothing’s simple when defending a besieged capital city — or her heart.
She loves the prince, who means to protect her even though his duties as a knight keep him on the battlements, fighting the enemy’s monstrous army.
Kate’s husband is the one who checks on her, lingers over dinner, and slowly but surely charms her. She’s all too aware that her beloved prince threatened to kill him if he touches her.
As the enemy thunders against the city walls, the kingdom needs more from Kate than just her healing magic. All disciples must put aside their tangled feelings and stand in the homeland’s defense.
Kate believed she’s ready for a war. She isn’t.
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