“Because of your oath or whatever.” She exhaled a heavy sigh. “Don’t worry. After winter, they will certainly be gone from these parts. Then I can find another place. Somewhere.”
I grunted, not liking that same sadness leaking back into her voice.
Sorka’s workers were scraping the hides clean of flesh that were stretched taut on wooden frames next to her work tent. The females glanced toward Jessamine curiously but kept scraping their combs over the hide.
Leading her through the open flap of Sorka’s tent, I saw her in the back assisting her young daughter who stitched the lining of a skirt with the wool fabric we’d gotten in Hellamir on our last trade visit.
“Sorka,” I called to the tall female who led the tailoring guild for our clan.
She looked up, her hair plaited neatly around her dainty horns and down her back. She smiled, at both me and Jessamine.
“I heard you’d be coming to me with our new guest.”
“You did not attend the kella’mir?” I asked.
The clan wasn’t required to attend and witness council meetings, but I assumed every beast fae in camp would be there today. It was rare to have strangers in the village, especially light fae.
“There is too much work to be done before we leave for Ghasta Vale. Besides,” she smiled, nodding to other females pretending to be working on their tailoring while obviously staring at us, “my gossipmongers keep me informed.”
One of them hissed in protest. Velga, I believe, in the corner.
Sorka’s young daughter, only thirteen if I recalled correctly, was at her side tugging on her mother’s white-hide skirt. There were no animals with white hides, but Sorka was a talented tailor. She’d devised ways to dye the hides without compromising the strength of the material.
“Introduce me,” young Beska whispered loudly.
“I haven’t been introduced myself, Bes.”
“I apologize,” I added. “Jessamine, this is Sorka. She is the guildmaster of tailoring for all of the clan. And this is her daughter, Beska.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Jessamine.
“For us as well,” said Sorka sincerely, examining her dress. “Your clothing is made well, though it isn’t sufficient for winter here in Northgall.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.” Jessamine pulled out a white pelt from a pocket in her apron tied at her waist. “Would you be able to help me create gloves from this?”
“Oh, my.” Sorka took it and ran her long fingers over the silky pelt. “This is very fine indeed. An elkmine otter pelt. Those are rare.”
“Where did you get it?” I asked.
“An old wraith fae trapper gave it to me, right before I left the Borderlands.”
“You mean ran away, don’t you?” Velga insinuated, barely glancing up from her embroidery work.
“Yes,” agreed Jessamine. “The trapper actually tripped one of the guards for me.” She smiled, and it made me proud that she seemed stronger in spirit since the kella’mir, despite her circumstances.
“I can make the gloves, Mama,” said Bes. “If you would allow me to.”
Sorka smiled at her daughter. “Bes is very skillful. She can do the work for you.”
“I don’t know how to repay you,” said Jessamine.
Sorka frowned. “We do not pay each other for work in the clan. We all work and give in some way to keep the clan fed and sheltered.”
“I suppose I must find a way to do my part as well.”
The females in the corner whispered and giggled together, but I gave them a sharp look that silenced them quickly enough.
“Please supply her with what she needs,” I said, changing the subject, my gut sour from the tension in the room.
