Page 6 of Ice Magic

“Change here,” she said. “And any weapons you have, you might as well lay on the table while you’re at it.”

I dropped the waxed comforter from around my shoulders, and as I changed, caught her staring at my outfit. It looked a mess, that much I knew. But it had kept me from the snow. After I had changed into the nightshirt, keeping on the driest pair of my knickers, she motioned for me to gather up my things.

“Who made your clothes?” she asked, shaking her head as she took them and spread them out over a drying rack in the corner. “And your cloak is a bedspread?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t have any other options. I was kidnapped, and found a way to escape. I had to make do with what I had.” I might as well tell her the truth, because it didn’t make sense any other way.

“Oh child, there’s a fair amount of that going around. Was it some man, determined to make you his bride?” She spat out the words as if she had experienced exactly what she was talking about.

“Not his wife. More his mistress. And I had no interest in being his play toy.” I wasn’t sure how much to tell her, because I wasn’t sure who she was loyal to.

“Well, let’s get you fed.” She handed me a bowl and ladle. As I filled my bowl with soup, she examined the knives that I had laid on her table.

“All of these are kitchen knives, and nice ones at that.”

“He took my weapons from me, so I took what I could find.” I sat at the table and accepted the chunk of bread she offered me. She pushed a crock of butter across the table and I spread a thick layer on the bread and bit into it. The food was simple, but good and nourishing, and just being inside a warm house raised my spirits so much that I began to feel a glimmer of hope.

“You came out of the tower,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Prince Karehl is the man you’re running from, isn’t he?”

I nodded. There was no use pretending she was wrong. “Please don’t give me away.”

“Any person who calls the prince her enemy is a friend of mine. He’s a wicked man, and he turned on his own brother, from what I understand. I use cloaking spells to hide my cottage, in case he ever sends his guards on a looting spree.” She picked up her spoon and went back to her dinner.

We ate in a comfortable silence until the loaf of bread was gone and the soup pot was almost empty. I looked around for a washtub.

“If you let me, I’d be happy to wash dishes.” Even though I was weary to the bone, I wanted to thank her for taking a chance on me.

“No, girl. You look ready to drop. I don’t have a spare bed, but I have plenty of padded blankets and you can sleep in front of the fire if you like.” She pointed to another door at the end of the living room. “The outhouse is a few steps out there, and I’ll get you some slippers so that you don’t freeze your feet. If you want to wash up before bed, there’s plenty of hot water that you can use. I’ll get you a towel and washing cloth.”

“I don’t think you told me your name,” I said.

“My name is Ashera. I’ve lived in this cottage since the day I was born. I took it over from my mother. Anyway, I’ll fetch the towel and some soap for you.” Again she passed through the other door, returning with a thick towel, a cloth, and a bar of soap that smelled like lavender. She also handed me a pair of slippers, which fit with room to spare.

Carrying a candle, I headed to the outhouse. When I finished doing my business, I hurried back inside to find that she had ladled out a bowl of hot water for me. I dipped the cloth into the water, and then lathered up and washed down all my vital bits. She was doing the dishes, and for some reason I didn’t feel awkward at all.

Ashera brought out three large blankets, one of them padded enough to sleep on. She spread them on the rug in front of the fireplace, and then added a pillow. I wanted to ask more questions, about why she was living out here, and what she did, but I sensed that she would tell me what she wanted me to know in her own time. Feeling clean and human again, I accepted a cup of tea and some cookies from her, and then slid between the blankets and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Morning broughtwith it a snowstorm so dense it was almost a blizzard. Ashera made breakfast for us, bacon and bread and fruit compote from dried apples and berries. My old clothes were gone, and in their place was a warm pair of trousers and a tunic, and clean knickers. As I stood, she frowned and disappeared into her bedroom again. When she returned, she handed me a couple of thick pads.

I glanced down at my nightshirt and saw blood on it, and groaned. “I’m so sorry. I’ll wash this as soon as I’ve finished changing.”

“No need to be sorry, most every woman alive has her menses. At least it’s the promise that you aren’t pregnant.” She shrugged. “Today’s laundry day, anyway. You can help me scrub and wring the clothes. I hang them on the drying racks when it’s snowing outside. There’s nothing worse than clothes frozen from hanging in the winter wind. That is, unless you are planning on heading out again.”

I hesitated. “Do I have a choice?”

“You didn’t try to murder me in my sleep, and you have a willing nature. The storm is going to last for several days, so you might as well make yourself comfortable.” Although she seemedgrumpy almost every time she spoke, I had the feeling that she had a kind and caring heart beneath the surface.

By the time I had changed, she had filled a washtub with hot water and set more water to heat. She brought out a scrub board and I took over for her, scrubbing three dresses, plus my nightshirt. I rinsed them in cold water and wrung them out and she hung them on the drying racks. Together, we carried the soapy water outside and cast it onto the snow, watching the steam rise.

Back inside, she washed the counters and then brought out a bag of wheat and a grinding mill. I offered to grind the flour for her, so while I worked the mill, she began weaving fabric on a loom sitting in the corner. Finally, after a quiet hour of working, she sat back and massaged her hands.

“Tell me your story,” she said. “You say you came from a village near the Leanderial Line? How long ago did you leave there? And why did you leave during winter?”

I decided to trust my instincts. “My mother owed the yearly tithe to the village. My father died last year, and my mother forgot to pay last year’s tithe. She died early this year. The sheriff confiscated my house and everything I owned because I was a year behind, even though I was able to pay the balance. He ordered me into his household as an indentured servant, which translates to becoming his concubine. I didn’t want that life. I’m a huntress. My father was a hunter. I have no intention of being any man’s slave. If I bed a man, it will be my decision. So I ran away.”

“And you ran into the prince? From one pervert to another?”

I shook my head. “Not at first. I ran into his brother Bran and the Lorani. I planned to stay with them because we got along so well. I really like him and his cousin. She’s an amazing woman. But they were called back to Eleago and I went with them.”

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