Link to Day 2: Magda muses on trades; delivers a message to Bren
Link to Day 3: Bren wanders the forest and heads home, but veers too far south; has an accident
Link to Day 4: Bren convalesces
***
With only a slight headache and no bandages, Bren was released on the fourth day--to gather. There were some particular requests for the small white buttons for the feast. They would make a good accompaniment to the small herbed grass hens that were Magda's favorite dish. As she picked her way through the marshy ground from her own family's house to the boulanger in the early morning, she saw Bren leaving what was, to her, the center of town--the house where the matrons and elders met, taught the children, and healed the sick. She waved, and he nodded in acknowledgment, looking grim as he set off in the direction of the forest. She paused for a moment and looked after him, then set off on her way again.
The following day was the Gathering. The weather had cleared, and there would have been two days to dry the ground by the time the fires were lit. The main bonfire was lit in the center, on a flat stone that was had been set into the ground, slightly recessed, many ages ago, so it would burn no matter what the weather had been. The various logs and columns of wood that served as tables and chairs might still hold the moisture, but people would bring their blankets and mats and even carved wooden seats that fir perfectly over the tops of the tree-stumps. More of a concern would be the ground. Sawdust and straw could be sprinkled and spread as a last resort, but when dry, the packed earth of the clearing would support the dancing and movement of people. Sawdust and hay limited movement--at least until well-trampled. Magda was resolved to dance--and to dance often. It was an important celebration, and anyone whom she asked would honor her on that night. Even if he preferred her sister. It was just one night.
Everyone was consumed with preparations, and the errand-runners were busy--in the village this week more than in the forest. The forest-tenders were in the forest she knew, treading lightly on the soft ground, removing leaves and debris. It was a steady rain, but light. Still, she did not envy them their job. The tedium of clipping, and raking, and gathering. Bren would find wood debris today to use; otherwise, the forest-tenders would collect leaves and branches for use in textiles, or for kindling.
Magda fingered the tokens in her hand. Each token represented a promise of service returned for service given--the symbols on each token represented the type of service for which the token could be traded. Each person had a service that they could provide; so each gave that token as a promise of future service or products in exchange for service or products today. These were destined for the boulanger. Everyone would want a loaf of the celebration bread--a loaf of paper-thin sheets of dough folded with bits of dried apricot and sweetened with honey. As she rounded the corner past the home of the master builder--a grand house, and one of few that were so large--she stepped into the smell of the breads, and the sugary smell of baking fruit.
Magda's friend Steppan was a child of this family, and he met her with a warm shake of her two hands and a wide grin.
"Magda! How blow the leaves in the trees?" She smiled at the formal greeting. Steppan had a certain elegance of speech that she found endearing.
"The leaves are turbulent; the wind strong." He nodded vigorously.
"Perfect for dancing in the wind, then?" They both laughed at the private joke, recalling a windy dancing lesson when they were younger. "You will dance with me at the Gathering, Magda?"
"Of course." She kissed him on both cheeks, and a blush spread on his already blossoming cheeks. At that moment, a bell rang, and he started and ran in the back. Magda heard what might have been an apology called back to her from the rear of the workshop and home, where the ovens were positioned so that the heat might be dissipated by venting outward instead of radiating into the building. She waited for him to return, but before he did, his mother came down the stairs.
"Oh, hello Magda! Are you here for Steppan?"
Magda colored, and lowered her head, her mouth twitching with something like regret. "No, ma'am." She glanced up to the back.
"Oh, has he gone to tend the bread, then?" She nodded to herself and paused, then continued more thoughtfully. "More orders, then?"
"Yes." Magda smiled. The older woman sighed, and again glanced back to where her son was working.
"Mushroom gathering is a hard life, child."
Magda narrowed her eyes slightly at the dark-haired baker, and her brow wrinkled. "I know." She spoke defensively, but wondered where this observation tended.
"I hope your sister knows also." She smiled as her son stepped back into the entry room. "So you have the payment, then?"
Magda nodded briskly and handed over the tokens, at least half of which had mushrooms engraved on their waxen surfaces. Mushroom gatherers received one token for each mushroom they gathered--except the rarest. But their labor was not worth as much. A builder could buy several loaves with a token; a gatherer must hand over several tokens--nearly a days' labor--for a celebration loaf. Magda pressed her lips together, and wrote the names of the families who had ordered loaves in the ledger; then she placed the appropriate coins next to each order.
"Do you have an errand that you need?"
"No, Magda. Thank you for asking." The woman glanced at her son, then smiled gently at Magda. Magda glanced away, but caught Steppan's hands in hers.
"Goodbye, friend. I may see you again before tomorrow!"
Steppan gave a slight bow, and Magda turned and exited the shop.
With only a slight headache and no bandages, Bren was released on the fourth day--to gather. There were some particular requests for the small white buttons for the feast. They would make a good accompaniment to the small herbed grass hens that were Magda's favorite dish. As she picked her way through the marshy ground from her own family's house to the boulanger in the early morning, she saw Bren leaving what was, to her, the center of town--the house where the matrons and elders met, taught the children, and healed the sick. She waved, and he nodded in acknowledgment, looking grim as he set off in the direction of the forest. She paused for a moment and looked after him, then set off on her way again.
The following day was the Gathering. The weather had cleared, and there would have been two days to dry the ground by the time the fires were lit. The main bonfire was lit in the center, on a flat stone that was had been set into the ground, slightly recessed, many ages ago, so it would burn no matter what the weather had been. The various logs and columns of wood that served as tables and chairs might still hold the moisture, but people would bring their blankets and mats and even carved wooden seats that fir perfectly over the tops of the tree-stumps. More of a concern would be the ground. Sawdust and straw could be sprinkled and spread as a last resort, but when dry, the packed earth of the clearing would support the dancing and movement of people. Sawdust and hay limited movement--at least until well-trampled. Magda was resolved to dance--and to dance often. It was an important celebration, and anyone whom she asked would honor her on that night. Even if he preferred her sister. It was just one night.
Everyone was consumed with preparations, and the errand-runners were busy--in the village this week more than in the forest. The forest-tenders were in the forest she knew, treading lightly on the soft ground, removing leaves and debris. It was a steady rain, but light. Still, she did not envy them their job. The tedium of clipping, and raking, and gathering. Bren would find wood debris today to use; otherwise, the forest-tenders would collect leaves and branches for use in textiles, or for kindling.
Magda fingered the tokens in her hand. Each token represented a promise of service returned for service given--the symbols on each token represented the type of service for which the token could be traded. Each person had a service that they could provide; so each gave that token as a promise of future service or products in exchange for service or products today. These were destined for the boulanger. Everyone would want a loaf of the celebration bread--a loaf of paper-thin sheets of dough folded with bits of dried apricot and sweetened with honey. As she rounded the corner past the home of the master builder--a grand house, and one of few that were so large--she stepped into the smell of the breads, and the sugary smell of baking fruit.
Magda's friend Steppan was a child of this family, and he met her with a warm shake of her two hands and a wide grin.
"Magda! How blow the leaves in the trees?" She smiled at the formal greeting. Steppan had a certain elegance of speech that she found endearing.
"The leaves are turbulent; the wind strong." He nodded vigorously.
"Perfect for dancing in the wind, then?" They both laughed at the private joke, recalling a windy dancing lesson when they were younger. "You will dance with me at the Gathering, Magda?"
"Of course." She kissed him on both cheeks, and a blush spread on his already blossoming cheeks. At that moment, a bell rang, and he started and ran in the back. Magda heard what might have been an apology called back to her from the rear of the workshop and home, where the ovens were positioned so that the heat might be dissipated by venting outward instead of radiating into the building. She waited for him to return, but before he did, his mother came down the stairs.
"Oh, hello Magda! Are you here for Steppan?"
Magda colored, and lowered her head, her mouth twitching with something like regret. "No, ma'am." She glanced up to the back.
"Oh, has he gone to tend the bread, then?" She nodded to herself and paused, then continued more thoughtfully. "More orders, then?"
"Yes." Magda smiled. The older woman sighed, and again glanced back to where her son was working.
"Mushroom gathering is a hard life, child."
Magda narrowed her eyes slightly at the dark-haired baker, and her brow wrinkled. "I know." She spoke defensively, but wondered where this observation tended.
"I hope your sister knows also." She smiled as her son stepped back into the entry room. "So you have the payment, then?"
Magda nodded briskly and handed over the tokens, at least half of which had mushrooms engraved on their waxen surfaces. Mushroom gatherers received one token for each mushroom they gathered--except the rarest. But their labor was not worth as much. A builder could buy several loaves with a token; a gatherer must hand over several tokens--nearly a days' labor--for a celebration loaf. Magda pressed her lips together, and wrote the names of the families who had ordered loaves in the ledger; then she placed the appropriate coins next to each order.
"Do you have an errand that you need?"
"No, Magda. Thank you for asking." The woman glanced at her son, then smiled gently at Magda. Magda glanced away, but caught Steppan's hands in hers.
"Goodbye, friend. I may see you again before tomorrow!"
Steppan gave a slight bow, and Magda turned and exited the shop.
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