Ian followed her through the doorway to where Ashlin was bent over a large table, carefully cutting through a large piece of green fabric. She looked up as they entered the room, and her face melted into a beautiful smile as soon as she saw him. She set down her scissors, running the two steps that separated them to greet him with a hug. “We have been so worried!” she said.
Ian squeezed her tight, needing to know that at least one member of his family was safe. “I am safe,” he said. “But how are you? My father?”
Ashlin stepped back so she could see his face. “Nothing has changed,” she said. “His leg is quite angry, but at least the wounds have not made an infection.” She dropped her voice. “He has not woken.”
Ian nodded, a lump forming in his throat, though the news was exactly what he had expected.
“Let us discuss these things over tea,” Mistress Cedrice said, leading the way up a small wooden staircase.
Ian followed Ashlin up the steps and mirrored her actions, seating himself across from her at a low table near an open fire.
Mistress Cedrice moved about her kitchen preparing tea.
“Have you been going back and forth to the castle?” Ian asked Ashlin. “Is it safe to do so?”
“Oh, yes,” Ashlin replied, reaching for the small clay cups at the center of the table and arranging them around a clay teapot. “So many people come and go daily that I can easily blend in.”
“Does Gareth know who you are?” Ian asked. “If he knows your connection to Onric, you may be in danger.”
Ashlin shook her head. “Onric and I avoid speaking to each other at the castle. I keep to the old tower room while working on the tapestry, or slip in to sit with your father.”
“That is a part of why I am here,” Ian said.
Mistress Cedrice pulled an iron kettle from its place over the fire and used it to pour hot water into the brown clay teapot. After replacing the kettle over the fire, she joined them at the table.
“Has there been any progress on the tapestry?” Ian asked.
Ashlin shook her head again. “No, we have not found a way to put harmony magic back into the needle. Aizel tried to refill it. But she does not know the original story the tapestry was trying to tell. So her magic is too weak to guide my stitches.”
Mistress Cedrice dropped a pinch of dried tea leaves into the steaming teapot, and a delicate smoky aroma filled the air.
Ian looked to Mistress Cedrice. “I am sure you have already spoken of this, but even you, with your Majis ancestry—do you know enough of the history to help in this matter?”
The older woman stared off into the distance, a sad disconnect in her eyes. “No,” she finally replied. “The only knowledge I have of magic and my people comes from whispered tales and nonsense sayings passed down by the women before me. Having grown up on Istroya, Aizel has a much deeper knowledge of those topics than I do.”
“I am sorry that was lost to you,” Ian said, sensing her pain but unable to offer any true balm.
“It was not you who took it from me,” Mistress Cedrice replied. Focusing her attention on the steeped tea, she moved through the calming motions of pouring a cup for each of them.
Ian accepted the small cup from her, wrapping his large hands around the warm clay. The spherical container had no handle, making it easy to hold. Relishing the warmth, Ian let itrelax him for a moment before bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.
“There is something else,” Ashlin said. The confidence had faded from her voice, and she sounded hesitant.
Ian looked over to her, alarmed.
She held her own teacup in her hands, but her eyes were looking past it, staring at the table. “Gareth has been asking about the tapestry. It was on display in the great hall, the night of your ball. He has been hounding Onric to let him see it. Onric tried to hold him off...”
“So he has seen the tapestry?” Ian asked. “Has he said anything about it?”
Ashlin shook her head. “He has come up to study it. He was particularly interested in the panels that show the Majis as powerful sorcerers. Or, I suppose we know now that those would be chaos wielders, not Majis. The story there is still muddled.”
“I do not know what that means,” Ian said, “but I cannot imagine it is good.” He caught Ashlin’s eye. “Stay out of his sight. Do not let him know your connection to the tapestry itself.”
Ashlin nodded. “I was not there when Onric brought him up. And Onric always confirms that Gareth is elsewhere in the castle before I work on it.”
Ian nodded. “Good.” He did not need to doubt that Onric was seeing to Ashlin’s safety—and to everyone else’s, to the best of his ability. “Would you mind if I borrowed the needle for a while? I might be able to find someone in Robin’s community who has more knowledge than we do.” He refrained from mentioning that the community he was referring to was a community of Majis. While he was sure Ashlin could be trusted with that information, it was not his to share.
He had no need to worry, however, as Ashlin with her trusting nature did not even question why Robin’s communitymight know more than Aizel or Mistress Cedrice. “Of course,” she said. “But it is at the castle. How shall I get it to you?”
