Telyre looked much the same as it had the last time Cassie had been within its borders—the same rickety buildings, the same dusty streets. Although the path they took this time was different, making so many right and left turns that Cassie despaired of ever finding her own way through the streets, the behavior of the peasants was much the same, giving the banisè a ludicrously wide berth. More than half of the open windows Cassie saw whistled closed as they passed by them, and several peasants stopped in their tracks before turning and hurrying the opposite direction when they caught sight of the Gemmaros. Silvana's grim expression, paired with the angry scars that traced their way up her arms and neck did little to contradict their fear.
They at last paused before a building adorned with a green door and a sign proclaiming it to be a dressmaker's. This was it, then. Cassie's new life.
Controlled breathing. Calm expression. Don't be afraid. Don't be weak.
Skylar stepped forward and called, "Aldine!"
There was no answer. Cassie fought the urge to shift on her feet as Silvana glared at the building next door.
"Aldine Kijakazi!"
The door swung open, revealing...nothing. An empty, dark entryway waited within the house. This was already promising. Yet without hesitating, Skylar and Silvana stepped inside. The door shut behind Cassie, who followed a step behind.
As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the poorly windowed house, the woman who had admitted them came into focus. She stepped away from the door, shapely despite her middling age. Her blue dress was simple—plainer even than a servant's—but her blonde curls were cropped almost as stylishly as any courtier's. The yellow coils brushed the juncture of neck and shoulder, nearly managing to hide a thick, jagged scar that traveled down from collarbone to disappear into the dress' neckline.
Cassie tried not to stare. She had seen her share of scars on Skylar and Silvana—seen her share of them in the making, even, and caused more than she would like—but she had not expected peasants to bear that kind of evidence of dangerous living.
The woman regarded them stiffly, drawn up to her full height. Cassie felt like a dwarf next to her. "Come to collect?" she asked Silvana.
"In a manner of speaking," Skylar answered her, glancing at Cassie. "Do you mind if we—?" He gestured at an open doorway down the hall.
"Of course," the woman said, raising a hand to usher them inside.
At a look from Skylar, Cassie remained behind, watching the door close. They might as well explain everything in private. Maybe they would even mention the curse. If this woman was to take her in, she deserved to know.
With nothing to do but block out the murmur of voices behind the door, Cassie looked around. No shelves of books, a simple fireplace, and although the walls were absent of any tapestries, they were nearly completely wallpapered in sketches of solitary figures. Of clothes, she realized, drifted closer to one, including notes on fabric or cut. Easily outnumbering the papers at eye level were dozens posted lower, varying in height from her knee to her hip, all haphazardly slapped on the wall and clearly in a child's hand.
To the left, there was a plain, wooden staircase leading to a second level. Down the hall and opposite the room currently holding the Gemmaros and Aldine was what looked like a small kitchen. A doorway yawned open directly to her right, encouraging a peek. She could look quickly; she could be quiet.
Cassie poked her head in to find endless piles of fabric and sewing supplies. This must be Aldine's workroom. And hers, if all went according to plan.
What if Aldine refused?
They had no alternative, save abandoning Cassie deep in the forest to die. Or returning her to her father—she would not even consider it. It would be more of a death sentence than anything else Silvana could come up with. Cassie would rather her body die, a hundred times over, than the way that return would destroy her soul. Would kill her from the inside out.
This room had a window, making it immediately preferable to the foyer. The wide expanse of glass let in all of the cheer of the autumnal sunshine with none of the dirt. Outside, a regular bustle had resumed, as loud as it had been before the banisè had stepped foot in town.
Cassie took a step deeper into the room, and straight into a tottering stack of cloth. The burst of dust it gave up had her jumping back. Dressmaking was not a busy job, then.
Even if the seamstress had little to do, she needed to learn how to tidy up. The pile that had nearly fallen when Cassie had disturbed it was only one of what looked to be dozens of precarious jumbles of fabric. Tools were scattered about, left where they had last been used. How did the seamstress find anything in this senseless chaos? How was Cassie supposed to?
The door opened. "...your apprentice," Skylar was saying.
The woman must have been skeptical, but did not show it. It looked like she did not have enough work for one person; what need did she have for an apprentice? But there she was, smiling at Cassie encouragingly.
"She'll need a dress," Silvana said, taking in Cassie's castoff shirt and pants with a critical eye.
Aldine nodded. "Something more appropriate?" she asked, although there was nothing rude behind the question. "That could be your first task," she said kindly, speaking to Cassie for the first time.
What an odd idea, to make her own clothes. To make other's.
"We should get back," Skylar said.
So abruptly, that was it. Cassie was gripped with fear. She wasn't ready. If she grabbed Skylar and Silvana and begged them on her knees, would they stay? Would it be pity or disdain they would feel—but she was doing this to keep them safe. She was not putting them in danger any longer.
Despite the dimness of the house, Silvana saw the flash of terror in her eyes. "You'll be fine," she said, hardly a soothing promise.
Cassie forced herself to take three calming breaths in a row, nodding along with the banisè. She would not be alone. She would have Aldine to keep her company, and she would be safe. And the inhabitants of Telyre along with her.
"Aldine will take care of you," Skylar said, laying a hand on Cassie's shoulder. The comfort was miniscule, but deeply appreciated. "Try to...um...blend in."
Blend in. She had barely made it a handful of days with two banisè before they had figured out where she had come from. How was she supposed to remain incognito in a town full of commoners?
But she did not have time to worry about it, because the Gemmaros were already edging toward the door. Eager to leave her.
"And stay out of the forest," Silvana added sternly. She stared Cassie down until she nodded reluctantly.
Cassie followed them to the door, hands twisting together. This was goodbye. And she still was not ready. "Do—do we sing farewell, or—?"
Cassie hoped not. She had managed to avoid singing since she had fled her father and did not plan on starting again now. If they heard how bad her voice was—well, it would not leave a very good final impression.
Silvana snorted in answer—which could mean anything, really.
"We're from Trenoriah, Cassie," Skylar said with a little smile. "We leave the music to the Esrens."
"Yes. Good." It was just as well. Never mind the odd pang of regret in her chest. "Um...farewell, then."
They slipped out the door, and did not look back.
Cassie turned to face the seamstress slowly. Silvana had assured her (with an enigmatic look) that Aldine would treat her well enough, but how far did that extend? She could not imagine these people being happy to a new intruder in their little lives—especially one that was going to bring as much trouble as she would.
Without warning, Cassie felt herself pulled into an eager hug.
This overly familiar touch was the biggest shock she had experienced yet. Embraces were not exactly encouraged in her family, and the closest the Gemmaros came to affectionate touches were bumps—knocking into each other like balls that changed course for that one moment before continuing on their way.
What was one supposed to do in a hug? Going rigid, Cassie fought against the impulse to wrench herself away. Were all peasants like this?
"Welcome, welcome to Telyre," the woman said, finally pulling away beaming, leaving Cassie slightly more rumpled and significantly more dumbfounded than before. "Come, let me show you upstairs."
Cassie followed her up the narrow, rickety stairs, and into the second of the two rooms up there, where Aldine motioned for her to set down her small bundle.
It was more difficult than she had anticipated to let go of the only possessions she had left in the world. Not much of anything: an extra cap, the dress she had fled in, a small carved figurine Skylar had acquired from somewhere, and a throwing knife Silvana had given her with the implied suggestion she use that instead of her too-distinctive own enameled weapon. Not that Cassie had listened. Her knife still sat at her waist, its familiar weight the one comfort she had left. She had little left to hold on to.
And now she had to let go. Gingerly, Cassie's fingers uncurled from the knotted fabric, leaving it on top of the small bed.
The room was airy, if nothing else. It had exactly one window, one bed, and one table. Everything was wooden—vastly different from the furniture Cassie had grown up surrounded by in her chambers, which were filled with luxuries imported from Trenoriah and surrounded by cold stone. Everything was clean and painted cheerful colors that clashed with each other: the green bed was paired with blue sheets, the table was a battered pink, and the window had light brown drapes.
Aldine was chattering on. "I sleep in the other room up here. I can show you the kitchen next, if you're hungry from your travels?" She did not wait for an answer before continuing, her words pouring out like the current of a stream. "You'll be working with me in the main room, since it allows for the most space for laying out cloth, but there is also a room we use for eating or visitors, which there are more of than you'd expect for a seamstress—but people are so friendly here, I think you will feel right at home soon enough." She paused to catch a breath and turned back to Cassie. "Is it...satisfactory? I know coming from the forest—that is, Skylar mentioned you might have some trouble adjusting, but—well, I know it's nothing impressive, but sometimes I have visitors, and it serves well enough for—"
She was worried Cassie was unhappy with the room? "It's wonderful," Cassie said, and meant it. The austere room was plainer even than the Gemmaros' cottage. It was also the most welcoming space she had ever had, and it was hers.
Aldine's smile widened in relief. "Very kind of you, there's not been much use for it but then I'm glad I had the space, with taking you on as apprentice—now, you can sew well enough, yes?"
"Of course I can," Cassie said, following Aldine back down the dim stairwell.
She could hardly say no. And really, how difficult could it be to cut out a few pieces of fabric and stitch them together? It could not be that much different from skin, and she had sewed Skylar up well enough, hadn't she?
Aldine nodded, noting much more than her clear blue eyes let on: the too-big banisè clothes clearly not Cassie's own, the proud stance that disavowed peasantry, and the hair covering. The slender, ungainly hands so unlike the seamstress' own dry, worn ones, hands that had never been pricked by needles and pins so much that the blood now barely flowed in the fingertips for fear of being let out.
When they entered the work room, Aldine led her toward a haphazardly folded pile of green cloth. Lovely. The color of a sickly olive. Just what Cassie needed to bring out the sallowness of her skin. Along the way, Aldine collected a needle and deftly disentangled a spool of thread from a multicolored jumble.
"Good," she murmured. "Saves us the time of training you."
Drat. If Cassie had only swallowed her pride for one minute, the woman would have taught her what needed to be done. The truth was going to come out as soon as Cassie threaded a needle, and then she would be angry that she had been lied to. How soon would she push Cassie back out the door, determining she was more trouble than she was worth?
The antithesis to Cassie's gloomy thoughts, Aldine smiled brightly at her. "There's nothing quite like wearing a dress you've made all on your own."
She yanked out a folded length of fabric as she spoke, not noticed when she unbalanced the rest of the stack—Cassie had to thrust a hand out to stop it all from toppling over—and was now selecting a pair of scissors. She dumped it all in Cassie's hands, where it all almost fell to the floor.
"Come."
Cassie followed her, weaving around the mess and stepping on scattered fabric as little as possible, to the large table that sat before the window, sweet sunlight pouring in. Cassie dropped all of the supplies on its surface, allowing Aldine to unfold and spread the fabric out on the table. She pushed the window open, allowing a breeze to curl through the dusty room.
"With your shape, you will need to cut the form here, here, and here," Aldine said, tracing lines on the cloth. "Remember to lockstitch the seam, leave a single thread for the darts, and make sure you never—but silly me, surely you know all this!" she broke off, smiling.
A knot of panic twisted in Cassie's stomach. What was she never supposed to do? What if she did it?
"Enjoy yourself, and if you need anything, I will be back soon," the seamstress said, oblivious or uncaring of her consternation. "I need a few more things for dinner," and she bustled out of the house.
Leaving Cassie alone, gripping a pair of scissors, and clueless.
Cassie stared after her, frozen in place, trying to process what had just happened. Aldine had thrown fabric at her, marked some invisible, meaningless lines on it, and left her to it. And when she got back and found Cassie in the same place she had left her in, no cloth cut, no stitches sewn, no dress made, what then? She roused herself and focused on the blasted fabric, fighting down the fear. What on earth was she doing? She barely remembered how to knot a thread, and she was supposed to make an entire dress?
She looked at the cloth from all angles. She was making a dress. Dresses had skirts. A skirt shouldn't be that difficult to make. All she had to do was...cut out a big circle, and then a small one in the middle. Isn't that what skirts were? A big cone of fabric? This would be easy, after all. Pleased with herself, Cassie adjusted her grip on the scissors and advanced on the fabric.
A small voice cleared its throat. Was there someone else in the house? How had she failed to notice? Her skills of detection were still deplorable. Skylar would be so disappointed in her.
"Who's there?" she called, clutching the scissors.
"You have to draw the pattern first," the voice said.
Nobody in the doorway, nor in the room itself. Nothing in the corners or hiding behind a pile of cloth. Unless she was being haunted by a ghost, the last possible source for the voice was the open window. A quick glance revealed nothing. Cassie moved closer. She really hoped it was not a ghost. Closer to the window, Cassie was able to see a child peeping over the sill. The tousled, yellow hair was hacked to the ears, giving no clue to the urchin's gender.
"A pattern?" she repeated blankly.
The child looked at her with smiling eyes, taking in the clumsy grip on the shears and cloth that was already askew. "Do you need help?"
Cassie surveyed the vast expanse of her inexpertise helplessly. "I..."
"I can help you," the child announced.
The voice sounded too high for a boy. Must be a girl.
"The door is that way," Cassie said, pointing. Then felt like a fool. She was the newcomer, the stranger, telling this girl who lived in Telyre where things were.
"This way is faster," the girl said, and heaved herself up, small hands clutching at the windowsill.
Cassie might have argued otherwise, watching the child struggle to pull herself up and into the room, taking three attempts to get her chin above the sill. "Are you sure...?"
"Yes," the girl insisted. "The door takes longer."
So Cassie gave her some space and waited for her to finally clamber her way into the room. When she was finally inside, she stood up and straightened her rumpled dress. "I knew I could do it," she said to Cassie, beaming with her own success. "Aldine never lets me, but I can do it."
So Aldine never let her climb through the window? The little rascal.
"I see that," Cassie murmured, fighting a smile.
"I know all about making clothes," the girl told Cassie, her voice filled with tiny authority. How old was she? Six? Eight? Eleven? Cassie knew nothing about children. "Aldine lets me help all the time. She says I am a natural. I helped her make this," she said, gesturing at her own well-made, if disheveled, red dress.
Cassie gave up on fighting the smile. Nice to know one of them knew what she was doing.
"I'm Leora," the girl informed Cassie. "I saw you come in earlier. Mama says you must be bad, because nothing but evil could be that close to Silvana. Are you evil? You don't look like it." The child—Leora—smiled even as she talked, the words unending. "You look nice. Did you live with Silvana? Why are you here now? What's it like in the forest? Nobody will let me go exploring. They say it's too dangerous out there, but it's pretty. When I grow up, I'm going to live in the forest, with the witches and the bandits. I don't want to kill any people, though. Just Citakens—they're evil. Did you know that? Have you ever killed anyone?"
Cassie, fearing she would be buried under the barrage of questions, held her hands out. "Slow down!" she begged with a laugh. "The dress?"
"Oh, right." Leora refocused and approached the fabric, pulling it back into order. "You haven't drawn the pattern yet."
"With what?"
"A piece of wax. Aldine keeps them over here." Leora went to the other side of the room, shifting through piles of sewing supplies until she produced a long stick of white wax.
Was this why the room was such a mess? A young child given free reign to dig through materials, who did not bother to ever put any of them back in order?
"Look, you draw a shape like this," Leora said, sweeping a few lines along the edge of the green fabric. "But yours needs to be bigger. And then another shape here, like this..."
Cassie struggled to replicate and enlarge the pattern Leora had produced with such ease. When the girl at last granted dubious approval, she cut the pieces out, sorting them by size in a tidy stack on the table.
With Leora's endless chatter filling the time, it was impossible to gauge how long Aldine had been gone. It seemed only moments had passed when she heard the door open and close, signaling the seamstress' return.
Cassie jumped guiltily when she heard Aldine call her name—would she be annoyed she had let the child in?—but Leora returned the greeting with enthusiasm and Aldine's eyes warmed as she entered the room and found her helping Cassie.
"Should have known I'd find you in here," Aldine said to Leora fondly. "You teaching my new apprentice a few things?"
"She doesn't even know what a whipstitch is," Leora half-whispered to the seamstress, consternation in every syllable.
Redoubling her efforts, Cassie bent her head low over her fabric as she painstakingly copied the stitch Leora was trying to teach her.
"Not everyone is a natural with the cloth like you, dear," Aldine told the child, gentle reproof and glowing praise in one.
Leora only heard the praise. "My mama won't let me be an apprentice yet, but once I'm old enough, I'll probably take your place—"
"Your mama wants you at home," Aldine interrupted her.
Leora frowned. "I know, but she doesn't need the help. The last time she wanted me to help dye the cloth—"
"No, I mean now." Aldine swung the room's door open wide. "I just saw her in the square. Last I heard, you weren't supposed to be out past sunset."
Leora looked out the window, at the sky swiftly on its way to the burnt orange that presaged dusk's violet, as though she had also not noticed the time passing. "Aw, dragons," she griped. "Can't you tell her you need my help a little longer?" She turned her doll-like eyes on the seamstress, entreating her.
Unswayed, Aldine merely laughed. "What, and have her be mad at both of us?" she said. "I think not!"
Grumbling, Leora tossed her needle onto the table and trudged her way to the door. Pausing first to hug Aldine goodbye, she then turned to smile at Cassie.
"I'm glad you're here," she said, and disappeared before Cassie could think of a way to respond.
Aldine half-sighed, half-chuckled as she closed the front door behind her. "You'll see her again tomorrow, I'm sure," she told Cassie, smiling warmly. "I can't keep her away." Although it could have been a complaint—so far as Cassie could tell, Leora was no relation to Aldine—it was again said with something like praise. Like Aldine knew Leora well enough to be proud of her. "Dinner?"