Page 67 of Tiger's Trek
“Is it for wool or flax?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s for wool, flax, reeds, vines, hair, moss, leaves, or just about anything you can think of.”
“What?”
“It’s a magic hatchel. It spins whatever you place into it. If you can conjure it, the hatchel can spin it. But I’ll warn you—it is only to be used to create things of beauty. If you try to use it to make something deadly or dark, it will disappear. This gift is a gift of light.”
“It’s like you and your horse,” Veru said.
The knight smiled. “That’s right.”
“I wish I had a gift of equal measure to bestow upon you.” Her face brightened then. “Can I use it to spin a way to free you?”
Zarya shook his head sadly. “There is no spun magic strong enough to counter Yuga’s chains, little one. But take heart—there is still hope for you and your man.”
Veru gave the knight a smile. “Perhaps. Shall we go and see to your people, then?”
He nodded, and he and Veru spent the day greeting the people who came to see her. Many returned who’d left early before, hoping to hear some of her wisdom and perhaps get a little food and a bit of the water the others had managed to receive. Veru willingly shared what she could and matched up many people who needed help.
Other visitors came bearing gifts. Veru was surprised to realize that many weeks had passed in their time, though it had only been a day for her and Danik. The young girl looking for a husband had indeed found one, and she was more than a month pregnant with a doting mother-in-law. The family with the sick child was holding out hope thanks to a promising new treatment the new doctor was trying.
In addition to the new clothing, Veru was gifted with a newborn calf, baskets of fruits and vegetables, bundles of wool, bales of hay, and even a basketful of combs, hairbrushes, and hand-carved hair accessories. Each gift was received with great praise for the work and even hugs for the women. Two of the women even came forward shyly, clucking at Veru’s hair, and began swiftly combing and braiding it for her as she sat talking with visitors. Never had she enjoyed diplomatic meetings as much as she did with those simple people.
When the day was nearly over, and everyone set out for home, Veru said farewell to her white knight and asked if she would see him again the next day. He surprised her when he said no; it would be his brother coming to visit her next, if she was indeed allowed to return at all to their summer haven. When he bowed and took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles, Veru felt emotional. She put her hand on his head and said, “Bless you, good knight. If there is a way to save you, I vow I will do my utmost.”
“Spasibo, my dear, dear lady,” he said. With that, he clicked his heels, mounted his horse, spun, and rode off into the sunset.
Veru dashed the tears from her cheeks and turned toward the door on the summer porch, but standing in it, framed in its light, was Danik, who stared at her with the strangest expression. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was grinding his teeth. Her normally easygoing, sweet-natured friend was livid.
Chapter18
YOU CAN GET USED TO ANYTHING—EVEN HELL
“Can’t you do anything to stop this?” Stacia yelled above the squall as their dirizhabl’—or Rackapelterly Aeroflation, as Stribog called it—twirled dangerously like a child’s toy held under a giant’s thumb. Each one of its passengers clung tightly to the ropes as the dark and threatening sky pressed heavily against them.
Zima cried as she held on to Stacia’s leg. “It’s not me!” The poor girl wept frozen tears that rained like sleet down her pink cheeks. Soon her lips and eyelids turned blue, then purple, and the clouds puffed up darker and rained slush on them to match her mood. As her voice choked out a sob, they heard the crack of thunder, and lightning streaked across the sky.
Stacia’s dark red hair was plastered to her neck and cheeks. Her own lips and fingers felt as icy cold as little Zima’s. She wrapped her heavy coat around both of them, but it didn’t serve to warm them at all. They were quickly drenched. “Zakhar!” she yelled, trying to reach him through the storm. “Zakhar!” she tried again.
The priest turned to her, squinting in their direction, and took a few steps closer, trying to hear them through the storm. “I fear we’re going to be lost!” he cried.
“What?” Stacia shouted.
“Lost!” he screamed. “We’re being dragged off course!”
“But didn’t they say we could use the storm? Ride the lightning somehow?”
When he didn’t understand her, she tried to gesture to him by moving her hand like a snake and then twisting her other fingers to hop on top of it and zoom away. But she had to grab for the rope again as the balloon lurched suddenly. When she righted herself and steadied Zima, she thought she saw the spark of understanding catch in his eyes. He quickly turned about and began adjusting levers and buttons.
“Brace yourselves!” he cried loudly.
Crouching down next to the girl, Stacia wrapped her arms around her and said, “Hold on to me tightly, little one. We’re going for a ride.”
“But we’re already on a ride,” Zima said before plugging her thumb back into her mouth and closing her eyes.
