* * *
"Sweep out the pottery shed," Mother Fern handed Nissa a broom the moment she walked inside the shed. The other apprentices were giggling as they turned plates on potter's wheels. The wheels were foot-powered and Nissa wanted to watch how pottery was made, but Mother Fern was keeping a sharp eye on her, so she began sweeping the floor as she'd been told.
"Now, go out and draw water to wash down the flagstones," Mother Fern set Nissa at another task as soon as the floor was thoroughly swept. "Then go out and see if you can get more clay. You can sift tomorrow—that last batch should be dry enough by then." Nissa didn't say anything; she just grabbed the rope-handled bucket by the door and went toward the well between the shed and Mother Fern's small house.
It took seven buckets of water and plenty of scrubbing with the broom to get the remaining clay dust and clumps off the flagstone floor to Mother Fern's satisfaction. Nissa's shoulders ached—she wasn't used to this much physical labor—most of her work at Grey House had been accomplished with mental ability. She grabbed the shovel and two canvas bags and headed toward the old streambed.
Warily watching to make sure Gren and his followers weren't anywhere nearby, Nissa began digging not far from the boundary line. She'd gone Looking again, and discovered clay there. Thankful that her mother had taken the time to show her how to focus her mind on a single bit of needed information and locate it with power, Nissa focused on Gren while she dug. She found him at his lessons with Tiearan, Head of the Green Fae village. Gren was helping adjust the yeast for the winemaking and seemed very happy that he'd been the one chosen to perform that task. "Showoff," Nissa muttered to herself as she turned up another shovel full of clay.
All the clay inside the canvas bags was cleared of roots and other impurities before she ever headed toward Mother Fern's shed. It was getting late, too, and Nissa knew she'd be scolded for holding up dinner. That was the feeling she'd gotten from Redbird, anyway.
* * *
"Where have you been?" Sure enough, Redbird was trying to scold the moment Nissa walked through the door.
"Mother Fern gave me extra chores," Nissa muttered, hanging her head.
"And what chores were those?"
"Sweeping and washing down the floor in the pottery shed, and then going after more clay." Nissa didn't look up to meet Redbird's eyes.
"Tell Mother Fern next time that I do not like holding dinner." Redbird stalked off toward the kitchen. "Get cleaned up—you're covered in filth from hair to heel."
Nissa lifted her eyes to follow Redbird's retreating back. She wanted to stick out her tongue but thought better of it. She headed toward the washroom instead.
Using a bit of power to clean the clay from beneath fingernails and then a bit more to clean off most of the muck from her clothing, Nissa arrived at the dinner table a few moments later. "You can do the dishes after dinner," Redbird announced. Nissa jerked her head toward Toff's foster-mother, biting back a retort. Corent came in, then, sitting down in his usual seat.
"Finally got all the maple trees tapped today," Corent sighed and dipped into the sliced turnips and greens that Redbird set on the table. "The syrup making is going well this year. The early frosts helped with that."
"Are we going to trade some of it for wine corks and the metal nails we need?" Redbird asked as she ate. Nissa watched Redbird as she dipped into her own meal. Redbird was always dressed better than either Corent or Toff, gauging by the clothing she'd found inside Toff's closet. Today, Redbird wore a red blouse and tan pants with red shoes. She was beautiful, with her hair gathered back and tied with a scarlet ribbon. Something bothered Nissa about Redbird, however, and Nissa couldn't quite put her finger on it. She kept eating as Toff's foster parents talked over dinner.
Nissa wiped the countertops down after all the dishes were washed and dried and then put a hand to her right shoulder—it ached. She wished she could have taken a class or two with Selkirk at Grey House—Selkirk was the best healer they had. Now she had no idea how to go about using power to eliminate the aches in her body.
"Go to bed, son, this looks good enough." Corent had a hand on the shoulder that Nissa had just rubbed. Power passed from his hand, too, and Nissa's shoulder felt better.
"Thank you." Nissa ducked her head and walked toward the narrow hallway that led to her bedroom.
* * *
"What is Belen doing here?" Tory whispered to Ry as he pulled his brother toward his side of their shared suite. Neither of them could properly describe Belen or name what he was. Belen was an enigma.
"He asked to meet with Mom and the others—the Inner Circle," Ry whispered back. That's why Ry had come to see Tory after they were both supposed to be in bed. Ry had gone on a secret raid of the kitchen and had caught sight of Belen walking through the halls with his mother. Belen sometimes had a light around him and Ry couldn't explain that.
"Do you think he knows anything about Sissy?" Tory asked.
No word had come to them for two days regarding their sister, and Grey House was still doing an investigation. At least that's what Uncle Shadow said. He'd come in earlier that day, and Ry's father had pulled the boys out of the dining hall as Shadow dropped to his knees in front of their mother and laid his head in her lap. Ry thought he heard a sob as Erland hauled them toward the kitchen to finish their meals there. Whether it was their mother or Uncle Shadow who wept, Ry couldn't say for sure.
"Do you think Belen might be looking for her, too?" Ry hoped that was the case. He felt power whenever Belen was around—power with a capital P.
"Now is when we need invisibility," Tory muttered. "We could hide in a corner of the library and listen in."
"Like Mom wouldn't know," Ry did a little muttering of his own. "Dad swears she can see through walls, sometimes."
"And sniff out anything from a mile away," Tory agreed. "Of course we don't know what effect being pregnant is going to have on all that."
"You're pregnant?" Ry grinned and poked at his brother.
"I've got a headlock right here, bubba." Tory went after Ry.
"Hey, did you see the vids earlier on Cloudsong?" Ry and Tory were both flat on their backs on Tory's bed—they'd pummeled each other for minutes before tiring.
"Yeah. It's worse than we thought. Those kids are starving." Tory sat up and lifted a pillow off the floor—he and Ry had knocked everything off his bed while they wrestled.