"Then it brings the hue to life and sets it firm. She couldn't imagine what was in the foul-smelling container or what its origin might be.Īnnabella replaced the lid, still laughing. Kira leaned forward to see, but when Annabella lifted the lid, she jerked her head back in unpleasant surprise. See you make a guess to its birthplace, this mordant." With surprising agility for a woman of four-syllable age, Annabella rose and led Kira to a covered container near the place where a large kettle of dark water, too huge for cooking food, hung above the smoldering remains of an outdoor fire. "But to use the knowledge of the threading, you must learn the making of the shades. My hands was always too coarse." She held them up, stained and misshapen. I got it for the colors but never for the threads. They seem to know things on their own, and my fingers simply follow."Īnnabella nodded. "Something happens when I work with the threads. Kira looked at her hands, folded in her lap. "She said you had the knowledge in your fingers. "You must learn all the plants, all the colors.
"You must come each day," Annabella repeated.
Matt, gnawing his bread, wandered off with Branch at his heels. Matt poured water into the crevice of a curved rock for his dog, who lapped eagerly and waited for more.įinally they sat together in the shade, Kira and the old woman, Annabella. "And Branchie too? He been looking for a stream but found nought." Matt's voice piped beside Kira she had almost forgotten that he was there.Īnnabella led them to her well behind the cott, and they drank gratefully. "Please, do you have a well? Might I have a drink?" she asked.
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