Page 47 of The Shadow of Breninsol
“Thank you,” Eleanor said, giving Rennell and Rafe a polite parting, but she couldn’t stay any longer, otherwise the conversation would become too much for her.
Rennell smiled, and relaxed back on her heels, with her hands in her pockets. “Look forward to seeing you again.”
Eleanor wanted to correct her. Instead, she walked away and only glanced at the other stalls as she made her way out of the jewellery row. She’d have to come back for the next market day to keep searching. Otherwise, she’d have the city guards on her, if they weren’t already, and she was already having to force herself not to look around in case they were watching.
Eleanor had one last stop before she could leave the Cloth. Then she could go back to bed with a bottle of wine.
Chapter Nineteen
The Spinsters
Her cloak whipped behind her as it caught on another gust of wind blowing down the row of tarpaulin-covered stalls. Eleanor’s stolen bodice was an extra layer over her thin tunic, otherwise she’d have risked flashing the surrounding traders. It was a shame she wasn’t near the pie sellers. Eleanor smirked to herself; she was sure she’d get a free pie for flashing them her tits.
This part of the Cloth was prone to changing stallholders, rather than the main clothier and jeweller rows. Those stalls had their own shops elsewhere in Solas or in Breninsol itself, butthey’d found patrons preferring to frequent the markets rather than the shops. These last few rows worked from their homes and came to sell what they’d been busy making. Much like the stall Eleanor was veering towards through the organised rows of stallholders.
These traders could have travelled for days or weeks from towns or villages outside of Breninsol and for them to trade for one day could mean taking home a month’s worth of money. The accents created a curious blend of voices; the more guttural and nasal sounds from the mountains mixed with the over elongated vowels from the coasts. Eleanor liked that even though they all had their distinct accentual differences, they all formed a similar lilting, rapid cadence.
People only spoke Solacian, although hearing different languages would have been more interesting. There were no foreigners in the Kingdom of Solas. The First King’s ancient decree keeping the ports closed remained in place. A policy of solitude or isolation, depending on who spoke about it. The ships could only trade on the dockside and sailors were not permitted to come ashore.
Bitterness bit at her heels, as Eleanor recalled her attempt to steal passage on a ship, an attempt thwarted by being forced to stay in this damnable kingdom. She hadn’t wanted adventure like others who’d managed a successful voyage. She had just wanted to leave.
Eleanor shook herself back to the Cloth, in time to narrowly avoid bumping into someone wrapped in a black cloak rushing past. She swore under her breath for her lack of awareness but realised she’d come to the stall she’d been heading towards.
The stall held a wooden table at the front, covered by a plain brown tarpaulin. Woollen items, weighted with small stones lined the table. There was small wicker baskets filled with jewelled colours and different weighted woollen skeins.The wooden stool behind the table was vacant, but as Eleanor approached, the woman at the spinning wheel greeted her with a smile, pulling wool through the wheel.
“Rin gone for pasties?” Eleanor asked, inquiring about the noticeable absence.
“Eleanor,” the spinner greeted her with a smile that didn’t quite touch her eyes but kept an even pumping of her foot on the treadle.
This covered stall was owned and run by sisters, at least that’s what they’d told her, and they made a profitable trade in wool. The spinsters bought sheep coats, and washed, dried, spun, and dyed the wool into yarn to sell. Rin usually sat on the little wooden stool tending to the stall, while carding the wool for the wheel, or knitted items for them to sell, while Han was the spinner. Eleanor didn’t know if those were their full names, but that’s how they’d introduced themselves to her.
“Eleanor,” a young voice echoed.
From under the table, a small brown-haired girl popped up, causing Eleanor to smile down at her. “Hello Haesel.”
The girl’s hair was in a messy bunch, and she gave a cheeky grin, much like another little girl Eleanor knew. The pair would be firm friends and would get up to all sorts of mischief together. The girls shared a similar worldly curiosity. Eleanor’s heart clenched at the thought that they could never meet.
“Mama’s ill,” Haesel replied to Eleanor’s earlier question about Rin’s absence from the stall.
“Oh,” Eleanor took in the strain around Han’s eyes. “I hope she gets better soon.”
Han nodded and gave a smile to match her deep eyes, all the while pushing her foot on the treadle to keep the wheel in motion, while the yarn spun round. “Thank you, we do too.”
“I’m making her this to keep her warm,” Haesel said, raising a ball of cobalt blue yarn and a small set of polished wooden needles in her hands.
“It might take a while to finish,” Eleanor replied.
The short piece of knitting looked as though Haesel had only begun. With a large sigh, Haesel slumped onto the stool, her forehead crinkled as she looked at her knitting as if it’d mightily disappointed her.
“It takes time to craft something with love, Sellie. I know Mama will love it even more knowing you made it,” Han said to soothe Haesel’s upset.
Han’s encouraging words seemed to rally Haesel anew to her knitting project.
“Calendula. Can you get more of it?” Eleanor asked, as she looked over the knitted items on display: mittens, socks, shawls, and blankets, in the same colours as the skeins in the baskets.
“I’ll see what I can get for you next month,” Han replied without looking at her wheel. The pace and evenness in the wheel’s speed showed her years of practised efficiency. Han must have been spinning from an early age, maybe as young as her niece, Haesel, as she had no lines on her face, nor had her brown wavy hair lightened in the time Eleanor had known either of the spinsters.
“No sooner?” Eleanor asked. She was keen to replace what she’d used for Lauressa’s black eye. While her herb collection was paltry compared to what she was used to, she made do with the limited supply.
