The path to Glenfall had been broadly uphill. Somewhere along the way, Jane must have lost track of how high she had gotten. Now it was clear.
They were looking down at a massive shelf on a mountainside, a huge, flat plot of land left when some ancient catastrophe sheared off a large chunk of mountain. In the center of the shelf was a huge lake, clear and blue and bigger than any single body of fresh water Jane had ever seen. On either side of the lake were healthy, active rivers, burbling and flowing and filling the lake before carrying its water down over the side of the mountain in a giant, rainbow-filled waterfall.
“It’s a beautiful place. Seventy years here haven’t changed that for me.” Patty pointed at the ring of land around the lake. “But you can see what I mean about room.”
Jane could. Every acre of the land around them was filled in some way or another. There were farms, mills, and houses everywhere, interspersed by parks she could only suppose were planned. It was like the village had built a halo around its own private sea, busy and lit up by activity in every last corner.
“The rivers drive the mills, the lake provides fish and feeds the wells, and the mountain lets us mine. It’s quite a productive town, all things considered.”
“I bet. Where’s my aunt’s cottage? Do you know?”
“Of course. It’s down there.” The woman pointed to a cluster of buildings close to the waterfront. “A good location, I’d say. I’ll take you there straightaway.”
The wagon rolled noisily along the stone road into the town. People eyed Jane curiously as they shouted out greetings to Patty. The old woman was discreet, offering no information as she greeted them back, and never once slowing the wagon.
“It’s a nice town, but it’s filled with gossips. You need to get indoors and rest. If I let them start, they’ll talk your ear off until tomorrow morning. Better we push through,” Patty explained.
The little building they pulled up to made perfect sense to Jane, considering what Patty had told her about it. It was beautiful in its way, an amalgam of brick walls, thick wooden pillars, and huge, latticed glass windows. In the city, it was the kind of house a big family might have lived in. A building that size would house five or six people comfortably.
Here, it was clear that the builders had had a different purpose in mind. The windows were set low in a way that invited passersby to look inside. Peering in, Jane saw very dusty wooden tables filled with empty baskets meant to hold goods.
“Your aunt must have gotten title to the building just after the old baker passed,” Patty explained. “The city wouldn’t tell an archmage they had to make use of it, especially not after the service she rendered us. That’s the only reason it’s sat empty so long.”
Jane closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the bakeries she had frequented in the capital. She thought all bakeries were beautiful things. They contained real objects built by real work, each one formed in a distinct way from all the other products in the shop. Every little change meant a huge difference in taste and experience, the product of skill and expertise filtering into choices made for the sole purpose of bringing people joy.
Was she sure she could do something like that? Absolutely not. Baking seemed like a tough job. But was she as pleased as punch to have a chance to try it out anyway, all wrapped up in a bow and set on a silver platter for her? There was no way she couldn’t be.
Thank you, Aunt Cecelia. And thank you, gods. I’ll do my best to make the most of this opportunity.
“It’s lovely.” Jane meant it. “Although I’ll have to do something to keep people from seeing me through the windows.”
“Oh, I’m sure the living quarters are upstairs. Come on. We’ll get you situated.”
“Are you sure? You must have things to do.”
“Of course I do, girl. But if you think I’m abandoning you before you are settled, then you don’t know me very well yet. It will all come out in the wash, I promise.”
The inside of the house was surprisingly clean. In fact, it would have been considered spotless if it weren’t so dusty. The dust puffed up in little clouds around their feet as they walked, and both of them were sneezing before too long.
“Keep the doors open, I’d say.” Patty waved generally towards the rear of the house. “Front and back. It will let dirt blow in, but it could hardly let more blow in than a good breeze would blow out.”
Glancing around the room, Jane saw an envelope on the counter next to a small bag.
“It looks like my aunt has already been a bit busy,” she said with a smile. “These footprints in the dust lead here. If this isn’t a letter from her, I’ll eat my own spellboo… I’ll eat my hat.”
Beautiful Jane,
By now you’ve noticed your aunt has made a mistake. It seems you’ll be expected to work in that Glenfall, at least a little. I sent you a little money to get by on. I did include a few more coins to help you find your way into whatever work you decide to do, though, and to get whatever tools and supplies might be helpful.
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Having thought about it, I do expect you would have gravitated towards work anyway. As a child, you always did like playing with tools and seeing how things were made. I doubt that’s gone away as an adult, especially since we both know the call of less-magical things is a large part of why you find yourself where you are.
Rest comes in all forms, I’ve found, and my cleric friends inform me there should be no harm in you keeping busy, so long as you keep your magical training out of it. Of course I won’t fault you if you use a little magic here and there, but please remember why you are in Glenfall in the first place, and the consequences for getting found out. I’ll back you if you need me. Just try and keep it secret.
It’s a beautiful village, isn’t it? I think you just might enjoy your stay, however long that ends up being.
Be safe, dearest. And please, please be happy.
Your aunt,
Cecelia
Handling it carefully so that the coins wouldn’t clink, Jane placed the large bag of money her aunt had sent along behind the counter. Someone of Cecelia’s station probably didn’t have a good sense for how much coin was enough to get a young lady started at anything. Jane shuddered to think just how much gold might be in that pouch.
Patty led her upstairs to the living quarters, which were small but ultimately quite sufficient for a woman living on her own. There was a bedroom with a frame, mattress, and bedside stand in good repair, and a bath complete with flowing pumped water and a drain.
“You’ll have to boil water in a kettle to heat it, I’m afraid. The water that comes out of that pump is ice cold. You could pay someone to enchant it later, if you want to spend less time preparing your baths. Oh, here are the blankets and sheets. They look to have life left in them, thank the gods.”
“Dusty, I’m sure.”
“No, believe it or not. The cabinet was well-sealed. You should just be able to use these, though I’d advise you to beat the dust out of the mattress first.” Patty looked around the room and nodded with an old woman’s satisfied finality. “This should do just fine. There’s firewood by the stove, dear, and I’m sure you want to get to a nice warm bath and some rest. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thank you, Patty. Really. For everything.” Jane’s stomach grumbled then, unhappily. She’d have to do something about that. “Before you go, do you happen to have any ideas of where I might find dinner?”
Patty smiled so hard that her eyes crinkled.
“Oh, you sweet child. You are smart to ask, but I think you’ll find the answer will supply itself shortly. There are a lot of worries in this world, but your first meal in this town won’t be one of them.”
Patty swept out of the room, and Jane watched through the window as she closed the door after herself.
Finally alone, Jane found she really did want that bath, and as soon as possible. Normally, a person would still have some work to do before they could use the dusty room to get clean themselves. Jane, however, had some shortcuts.
Pulling the curtains closed at every window, Jane checked and double-checked to make sure there was no way prying eyes might see what she was about to do.
Aunty is right. A little bit of magic will help this along, but I need to be careful. I can’t get caught.
She ignored the dust billowing from the jostled curtains as she moved to a corner, closed her eyes, and raised one hand towards the mess.
“Let the sylphs hear my call and grant me help. Prison of Wind.”
After days of rest, Jane’s magic reserves were full nearly to bursting. It took effort to release a small amount of power rather than the absolute maelstrom she was capable of, but she carefully controlled her magical output to keep the spell to a minimum.
Strictly speaking, Prison of Wind was a combat spell. That meant its usefulness in the task of dusting was more or less a function of its user’s ability to tone the spell down and not to strengthen it.
Jane got it right, at least this time. A small whirlwind appeared in the middle of the floor, spinning as it drew everything in the room towards it. With how weak she had made it, the curtains barely shifted as dust flowed from the walls, the furniture, and the floors towards the swirling winds and settled into a growing pile. By the time the whirlwind wore itself out a few moments later, the room only had one big lump of dust in the center.
Pumping the bathtub full of water was easy, and a similar use of spellwork had the water piping hot in no time at all. Jane groaned as she settled into the bath, using a bit of soap from her pack to scrub herself completely clean as the hot water relaxed her aching muscles.
She felt quite a different person as she finally addressed herself in the mirror. The girl she saw wasn’t what she would consider a great beauty, certainly. But with her wet hair drawn back into a single ponytail, and her slender frame wrapped in one of her plainest day-off dresses, she was at least presentable. She put on her most comfortable socks before slipping her feet into a pair of slippers the former owner had left behind, blessing this person for the gift they had unknowingly given her.
It was just in time. The moment she was fully clad, there was a knock at her door. She opened the door to find the first of the proofs that Patty had been right.
“Hello, neighbor!” A man in durable-looking work clothes stood there, holding a covered plate and smiling. “Patty let me know you moved in. I thought I’d bring around some cooked fish, if you wanted it. I caught it this morning. That’s what I do. I’m a fisherman, I mean.”
“Well thank you!” Jane barely kept herself from drooling as her mouth watered from the smell of the fish. The walking and mountain air had certainly done wonders for her appetite. “You cooked this yourself?”
“No, the wife did. She’ll be along in the next day or so, I’m sure. Her name is Izzy, I’m Frank, it’s good to meet you, and I’m afraid that’s where I hit my limit.”
“Your limit?”
Frank smiled, wrinkles crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “The one Patty gave me. She said, ‘Say hello, feed the poor thing, and then leave. She’s tired, and I’ll teach anyone who makes her more tired a lesson they won’t forget.’”
“It sounds like her.” Jane smiled helplessly and, she hoped, politely. “I like her a lot.”
“We all do, but that doesn’t mean anyone is fool enough to disobey her when she means something. And she meant it. You have a good night, and just let me know if you need anything. I’m happy to help.”
Frank was nice in a way that couldn’t be missed. Jane was almost sad that Patty had commanded him to leave.
Soon enough, though, she saw the wisdom of it. As soon as he left, a younger woman came by. She introduced herself as Shawna, dropped off a small loaf of bread, and then left. She was followed by a virtual parade of perhaps a dozen visitors, each offering some small gift of food and drink before they cleared out. Without Patty’s threat, the half-hour of visits might have taken hours.
Once the visitors were gone, Jane carted the frankly silly amount of cooked food to the back porch. There, she brushed off a dusty table and spread out her ill-gotten gains within full view of the massive lake. A cool, refreshing breeze blew across the lake to her.
She dug into the food. It had seemed like far too much, but after a very long day, she found she had no trouble devouring it all. It was, she thought, the best meal she had ever eaten.
Almost as soon as she was done eating it, the combined forces of a warm bath, inactivity, and a large meal began to work on her, making her eyes heavy and stretching her mouth with yawns. It was all she could do to get her neighbors’ now-empty plates inside, dress her bed, and lie down before she fell firmly and unmistakably asleep.