***
Clear, cool water gushed out of the spigot of the wooden hand pump, splashing into the large trough below it. Potatoes, just pulled from the expansive gardens, were dumped from a field basket into the water.
The hands holding that basket were small and tanned with dirt under the long nails. Kneeling in front of the trough, Tovira gazed at the back of her hands in the late morning sun and sighed. Age was beginning to show in them, evidenced by thin wrinkles and a few dark freckles. She wondered if by a miracle some other Maker had conquered the kenning of time; she'd pay well to reverse some of its effects.
She leaned over the trough, resting her elbows on its rounded edge. Tovira gave a moment's concentration while she whispered a well-practiced sentence in Locan. Her hands faced each other over the submerged potatoes, each making mirrored gestures of fingertips gripping and then pulling away. The water immediately clouded brown.
When the stopper in the back of the trough was pulled, the dirty water drained into the small flower bed behind it. All that was left was wet potatoes with pristinely clean skins. As an afterthought, Tovira whispered the words again and drew the dirt out from under her nails.
Just as Tovira, the Lady of Oma-Krin manor, was refilling the trough to let the potatoes soak, a voice called to her from the shaded back door of her estate home. "Your guests have just turned onto the lane," one of her workers - actually, her uncle - announced.
Years ago, when Tovira had acquired enough wealth for acreage, she offered to employ those of her extended family who chose to work her land at a good wage. Being family, she trusted them; they had supported her choices when many did not, and defended her when questioned. The same couldn't be said for her parents, not even on their respective deathbeds.
There were a number of cozy cabins further out on the large property that those faithful relatives were allowed to call home. Aunts, uncles, cousins and more extended family seemed quite content; after all, they shared in the bounty of her fields and orchards.
Tovira, never having a husband or young one of her own, took particular joy in the children that were usually found playing somewhere on her large lawn. Through them, she was able to forget her own strict upbringing, and enjoyed the peace she'd finally found.
She thanked her uncle, letting him return to his chores within her stately two-story home. While she walked to the full wraparound porch, she tucked loose hairs back into her chestnut and gray bun. Dusting the front of her long, faded yellow dress, the former Maker - now a merchant prosperous enough to hold an estate - came around to the front of her north-facing home.
With hands clasped loosely in front of her, Tovira stood at the wide entrance to her front porch with the anticipation of good company.
A shaggy ox pulled the open wagon that carried Baraide and her family up the long, tree-lined lane to the sunny front lawn. Tovira noticed that the boys wore their finer undyed linen or wool clothes, while Baraide and her daughter wore similar, simple dresses of pale blue cut from the same bolt of cloth. Of course, the best huntsman of nearby Bruvaal wore comfortable leather, although bandages could be seen under his left sleeve. In his line of work, danger and injuries were common concerns.
Baraide, Tovira's friend of many years, helped herself down from the bench seat. Halivik, always sporting a thick mustache and longish brown hair, descended gingerly from his side of the wagon; he used a cane to take the weight off his left leg. Tovira's smile faded a bit at the sight.
Little Irisella, who sat between her parents for the relatively short journey, stood on the toe board and paused. Stenhelt, with black hair like his mother, hopped athletically over the wagon's side rail and helped his little sister off the wagon. Tullgar, their eldest child at ten years or so, was already a tall boy. From the back of the wagon, he stared around in wonder even though he had visited only the day before to deliver his mother's note. Tovira thought they were a handsome family, respectful and kind. She was happy to have invited them.
Light, cool breezes casually rippled their clothes except for Halivik's sturdy leather. He stood in place for a long moment, gazing up at Tovira's impressive house. Probably admiring all of the windows again, she thought; even small panes of sheet glass were costly. Tullgar had fixed his attention on the large pond that was back toward the front of her property. While Irisella clung to Stenhelt's arm, he obediently waited next to his father.
Baraide was first to approach with a warm smile that brightened her attractive features. Tovira met her at the base of the porch stairs with a brief hug. Halivik greeted her from a respectful distance; he was always proper and slightly deferential to her, even with the informal friendship that she and his wife shared.
The huntsman knew of her past - it was no great secret - but seemed just as reserved with her, now being a wealthy merchant as well. Tovira knew that the other commoners in Bruvaal felt the same. She wished it wasn't so. She always made a personal trip into the village to sell her spare harvests; only foods that no other farmer in the area grew, and always at low cost.
Those attempts to diminish the daunting pigeonholes of Tovira's title, both former and current, were always met with courteous yet consistently wary smiles.
The children of Halivik and Baraide were gently prompted to thank the Lady of Oma-Krin for the invitation to visit her estate. Attempting to put the modest children at ease, Tovira sat on the lowest step of the stairs and spoke briefly with each one. The boys remained quiet and shy, but Irisella quickly became her normally chatty and entertaining self.
Remembering that Baraide's note vaguely mentioned Stenhelt, she offered Tull and Iri a few copper coins each if they would go pick berries from her bush garden. The two were thrilled with the chance to earn coins. Halivik eventually, reluctantly conceded. Sten was offered the same to go feed her horse. The boy was stunned - she actually owned a horse! He countered with the offer to do it for free.
Two field workers escorted big Tull and little Iri out to the east, just beyond the orchards. A livestock handler likewise led Sten to the huge barn that sat in a wood-fenced meadow bordering the west edge of the lawn.
Tovira invited Baraide and her husband up onto the deep porch. In padded chairs surrounding a small table, they reclined and were served refreshments by one of the Lady's nieces.
After thanking the young woman, Baraide turned to Tovira. "It was so nice of you to have us out, Tovi. My letter only asked to see my friend and a word of counsel on a matter. I didn't expect Tull to bring back an invitation as the reply. I thought you might just stop in on your next market day. You know you're always welcome at our home."
"However tiny and humble in comparison," Halivik added. "But as Bara says, thank you; I hope we've caused no inconvenience, Tovira." It took nearly two years before Halivik stopped calling her 'Lady', even in his own home.
"None at all; I'm glad you're here. It gives me a chance to catch up with Bara and see how tall your children keep getting. I also get to hear first-hand of how you hobbled yourself, Hal, instead of hearing overblown gossip a few days from now." Tovira didn't get the amused reaction she was expecting.