The young woman squatted upon the edge of the ridge. Beyond her spread a low valley, shaded by white dusted stained orange by the falling sun. A lazy river spread across the wake of this valley, and little houses of simple construction scattered piecemeal like stray grains of rice on a near empty plate. There was a small keep at the center of the valley, where she presumed the local chieftain held reign. She had traveled long and far and her leather vestments were covered in filth. Her dark hair was cut shaggy and short, just over her shoulders, and grey eyes squinted down from her brown, sun battered skin. She carried a flute in her hands and a long dagger strapped to her waist.
"Can't imagine I'll make any money here. But I'll have to give it a shot." She spoke to no one as she fingered the grooves of her flute, setting down the narrow country road. The air was cold and she could tell winter was close. If she was lucky, she'd be able to get a horse and ride out of this mountain valley before the snows. If she was unlucky... well, she'd be stuck here a long time. But Temora had always been a lucky girl, blessed with clever fingers and a nimble tongue. As she walked down into the grassy valley, the low, leafless branches of the birch trees rustling, she began to play her flute. The tune was lively, simple, and catchy, and she hoped it would help her attract attention.
The peasants of the mountain village were mostly herders, and they stood at attention and watched as she strolled down the river road. She saw several of them point her out, and some of the boys took up their staffs and followed behind her, keeping their distance but clearly curious. One woman came to meet her, holding a staff of her own. Her hair was silver and grey and she had a face that looked as though it was often caught in the wind. She wore a dress of homespun cloth, woolen and woven with strands of vibrant colors.
"Who are you?" she said. Her skin was pale, as were those in this land, and her eyes dark and tilted.
Temora stopped and lowered her flute to her side. "I am Temora Honeytongue. I come from the northlands. I am a bard, trained in the ways of northern song and dance."
The woman squinted at her. "That explains your color. We don't get outlanders here very often. I'd keep moving if I were you."
Not a pleasant welcome, though she'd heard the folk of these mountains were not so keen to speak to strangers. But she was Temora Honeytongue, she who had won the favor of lords and ladies in all distant lands. Surely she could win over some village wench. "Surely you do not begrudge me hospitality. I am happy to work for a place to bed, and play a song for a horse. I do not seek to stay long, as I hope to reach Kakila before the snows fall in the mountain passes."
The older woman frowned. "You're too late."
Temora cursed under her breath. "So the snows have fallen?"
"Yes. You could go back the way you came." The old woman gripped her staff. "From the Karyg, I presume?"
"I... uh... I can't go back," she replied, her mouth tightening. "There's not more I can say, but I can't go back. I don't mean to be trouble, really." The sun was setting and the air was growing colder. Snowflakes touched her sunburned cheeks. "If there's anywhere I could stay, just for the night."
The old woman's mouth twisted. She looked up at the darkening sky. She sighed. "You may stay with myself and my granddaughter, but I ask you do not make your presence known more than you already have." The staring peasants had dispersed now, but Temora knew she'd made an entrance. The quiet valley did not see bards like her very often. "This is not a safe place for young women."
Temora bowed low. "I am grateful. And I will do my best not to bring harm to your house. I promise." She didn't ask why it was unsafe. Perhaps the men of this land were handsy or perhaps the woman was just being overprotective.
The older woman nodded and gestured with her head for Temora to follow. She led the young woman through the village. They walked along the river until they reached a small house apart from the others, with a thatched roof and stone walls. A large garden lay outside, barren and now dusted with snow. Ancient idols sat on the edge of the roof, symbols of the religion of these people, foreign to Temora. She nodded reverently at them as they passed, anyway. In her years of traveling, she had learned to respect the gods of any land she entered. The old woman opened the door and Temora followed her inside.
A fire burned in the center of the room, and the floor was covered with woven mats. There were many windows, shuttered against the cold, and tapestries hung upon the walls. A table stood at one end of the room, and a small alcove for cooking lay at the other. Sitting by the fire was a young woman, maybe eighteen or nineteen years of age. Her skin was pale and her hair was red as fire, held back from her face by a black silk scarf. She wore a bright orange dress, tied with a sash of green and yellow. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent, and when they fell upon Temora, she felt an odd prickling on the back of her neck, that tingled down her spine and further below. Her heart twitched and a flush entered her cheeks. She cleared her throat and shifted her stance, lowering her head.
"I am Ai," the young woman said. "Grandmother Daiyu, who have you brought here?"
"She is a bard," Grandmother Daiyu replied. "Her name is Temora Honeytongue. She has asked for hospitality for the night. I could not refuse."
Ai nodded, and smiled. She had a lovely smile. "I can't remember the last time a bard came through these lands. Please make yourself comfortable, Temora. I'd love to hear a song."
Temora took off her boats and coat and sat down on the floor. Daiyu tended to the stew, her beady eyes watching Temora closely. But Temora only had eyes for Ai. She had heard tell of how beautiful highland girls were, but eyes delicate porcelain features, titled eyes with dark pools, and soft lips were truly entrancing. She began to play a song on the flute, one from her homeland, that showed off how skilled her fingers were. She hoped that would impress Ai. The girl seemed entranced by the music, swaying her head back and forth as Temora played. When the song ended, there was silence.
"That was beautiful," Ai said. "I've never heard anything like it. Are there many bards in your land?"
"Not many, not anymore," Temora said. A twinge of sadness flickered over her. "And it's been a long time since I left my home."
Ai leaned closer to her, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. "Why? You're very good. Why not stay and make your fortune there?"
Temora lowered her eyes. "It's complicated. I... I have no home anymore."
Grandmother Daiyu served out the stew. It was simple fare, a rice porridge with mushrooms and onions, but it was warm and filling. Temora ate gratefully, grateful for the shelter. When she finished, she looked up to see Ai staring at her, as if expecting something. The girl licked her lips.
"The food was good?" Temora said. A smirk crossed her lips.
Ai grinned back, and licked her lips again. Temora looked back at Daiyu, but the old woman didn't seem to be paying attention to the girls. She was looking outside, with a wistful expression on her face as the snow came tumbling down from the black sky in little spits. "Another song, Temora." Ai leaned back, her legs spreading under her dress, so Temora got a view of her well-shaped calves, but nothing more. Disappointing, but Temora was patient.
She placed the flute to her lips. This time, she played a song from the Karyg, a merry little ditty. Ai recognized this one and rose to her feet. Her hips gyrated as she began to dance. Temora kept playing, watching the girl's graceful movements. She could tell Ai was trained in dancing, though what purpose did she have for that training in these mountains? Perhaps the peasants held festivals here, where they could forget the harshness of their lives in dance and drink and song.
When the song ended, Ai was panting. Her face was flushed and sweaty and Temora couldn't help but imagine how flushed she would look in an entirely different scenario. Ai sat down again and smiled at Temora. Her hand brushed over the top of hers, just for a moment.
"It's late," Daiyu said. "You have chores tomorrow, Ai." Ai looked as though she wanted to protest, but at the look in Daiyu's eyes, she nodded and began to clean up. "Temora, you can stay in the old barnhouse. We don't have any goats right now, but there's a hay pallet you can sleep on. I'd like to provide better," she said, glaring at Temora as though she was expecting a complaint.
