Path of Fate by Diana Pharaoh Francis

she wasn’t so sure that the treaty was a good idea either, but the war being over, that was very good. If it meant hosting the Patversemese for a night, then so be it.
    She thought about Iisand Samir’s threats. Reisil didn’t doubt that he would make good on the confiscation of everyone’s property, turning the townspeople out. Including her. She’d lose her cottage and become a wandering tark after all.
    But no one would be so stupid and reckless as to chance that, she comforted herself. Kaval and Rikutud might be angry now. But it was often said that Rikutud would rather have kohv with the Demonlord than put a penny in the poor plate. No, he would never risk his business. Kallas would do the right thing, and the Dure Vadonis would be duly impressed by the town’s hospitality, and then he would travel on to Koduteel and sign the treaty.
     
    As usual, Saljane awaited Reisil at home, perching on the eave above the door. Silhouetted in the shadows, she looked like a malevolent wraith.
    Reisil scowled up at her, shivering as the ember eye sparked in the depths of the bird’s ebon form. She made a sound like a growl and strode onto her porch, shoving her door open with a bang.
    Reisil had taken to closing her shutters during the day so that the bird could not enter while she wasn’t home. It made the cottage stuffy and hot. She thrust each of them open, muttering as she banged her forehead on the window’s edge.
    She lit the lamps and gently draped the scarf Kaval had given her over her bed, caressing the fabric with soft fingers. Then she set about preparing her supper. Behind her she heard a flapping of wings and a thump. Turning, she found Saljane clutching the back of a chair, wings raised for balance. She eyed Reisil defiantly, beak open in a soundless cry.
    “This pestering isn’t going to work, you know,” Reisil said, leaning back against the counter as she peeled a potato, her fingers trembling slightly. “I am what I am and that’s just the way it is.”
    ~ Belong. With. You.
    Reisil started, not expecting the communication, and jabbed herself with the knife.
    “No.”
    Saljane said nothing more, but merely stared. She watched as Reisil ate her hearty supper, as she washed the supper dishes, as she set the cottage to rights, as she took a hip bath, as she crawled into bed, blowing out the lamp and pulling the covers tight around her neck.
    Despite her calm demeanor, Reisil did not fall asleep quickly. She could almost taste Saljane’s voice, metallic and bitter. Who would want such a bonding? There were songs about the love between the ahalad-kaaslane . She couldn’t imagine it. She wanted the love of a flesh-and-blood man. Kaval.
    Her fingers touched the scarf and she coiled her fingers in its length, her lips curling into a smile.
     
    Reisil woke the next morning with gritty eyes and a gummy mouth. She groaned as she lumbered up out of bed and stretched, her spine cracking. Her head felt thick and her stomach grumbled.
    She stirred the fire to life, adding wood until it popped merrily. While she waited for her tea to boil, she combed out her hair and rebraided it. She dressed herself in soft cotton trousers the color of faded violets. The full legs tapered down her leg to a twoinch cuff of a rich, dark purple that she’d embroidered with leaves and flowers. The overtunic was of the same purple as the trouser’s cuffs and came down to her knees, with splits up the sides to allow free movement. She tied a ribbon about her neck to match the faded violet color of her trousers, then laced on her sandals. When she was through, she glanced down at herself, pleased. She’d made the dye for the outfit herself by boiling the shells of tiny freshwater clams. It had taken her several years of experimenting before she’d hit on the shells as a source of the pigment, then another year to figure out a proper mordant.
    Reisil had thought to bring a gift back to Kallas to repay the town for its care of her.