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GRANNY NOON

After Dar changed his clothes, they resumed their journey, Leetu in the lead, Kale trailing behind. The forest grew thicker, darker, mustier, quieter, colder. The footfalls of the three travelers made a shushing sound on the thick carpet of old leaves.

Kale’s gloomy thoughts blocked out her surroundings. She mulled over every aspect of her pilgrimage from River Away to where she had left Farmer Brigg on the road to Vendela.

If I’d stayed with him, I’d be safely inside the walls of The Hall by now. It’s my own fault. I didn’t follow the elders’ instructions, and now look where I am.

She bumped into Dar before she realized the doneel had stopped in his tracks. “Sorry,” she murmured.

He did not respond but peered into the thick vegetation before them. Leetu had disappeared. Kale noticed the chill in the air and shivered. She wrapped her arms around her middle, tucking her hands between the rough cloth of her sleeves and her tunic. She started to ask if something was wrong, but the furry little man held up a hand and whispered, “Shh!”

Kale’s throat closed, her muscles tensed, her heart beat like a drummerbug. She clenched her fists, not knowing whether she should be ready to fight or run. She preferred running. She forced herself to scan the area around them with just her eyes, keeping her head perfectly still.

There’s not two inches between those tree trunks. How did we get this far? Were we following a path? Where’s Leetu? What’s Dar staring at? Will something spring out of that wall of leaves? Why are we standing here?

She heard the rustle of leaves first and then saw the wall before them quiver. The branches shimmered, turned silver, and began to glow. Gradually, the light intensified. Kale squinted and covered her eyes with one arm. The air warmed, the brilliance faded, and Kale smelled the pungent aroma of freshly plowed dirt after a rain. She lowered the shielding arm and opened her eyes.

Leetu stood in an open archway of flowering vines where the solid wall of leaves had been. Beside her another emerlindian, wrinkled and darkened with age, nodded a greeting. Her rich brown hair hung nearly to the ground. Dark eyes flashed a welcoming smile.

Kale took in a shaky breath. “A granny,” she whispered as she exhaled.

“Yes, dear. I’m Granny Noon. Welcome to my home.”

Dar stepped forward and offered a courtly bow in greeting.

Granny Noon laughed. “Dar, I can always count on you to bring elegance to my humble abode.” She turned to Leetu Bends. “Bends, how you’ve darkened since I last saw you. I ran into your parents at Summer Solstice Feast Day. Your mother said you still read every chance you get.”

Even Kale knew that was true. She glanced at the young emerlindian and saw her blush.

“They were well?” Leetu asked, and Kale figured she didn’t want to discuss her reading habits.

“Oh, yes, definitely,” said Granny Noon as she linked her arm through Kale’s and gave her a gentle tug toward the opening. “And proud of their offspring.” She patted Kale’s arm. “Come, child, you’re nearly exhausted, and I’ve baked nordy rolls.”

Kale heard Dar smack his lips behind her and decided the rolls must be something special. Within a few steps, the leaf covering on the walls began to dwindle and packed dirt showed between the sparse vines. The floor gradually sloped downward. Thick roots occasionally crossed the incline and then formed a steep stairway deeper into the ground.

Light came from rocks similar to the ones Kale had seen in the mountain cave where she had found the clutch of dragon eggs. These luminescent stones were not embedded in the walls but roosted on elaborately carved wooden shelves at intervals. Behind each, a curved mirror reflected the lightrock’s gentle radiance outward. Leetu’s blond hair, as well as the patches of white in Dar’s fur, shimmered a lovely cerulean. Each bit of pale clothing worn by the small party also reflected shades of blue.

At the bottom of the root stair, the yeasty smell of fresh baking wafted from the dim corridor ahead. They proceeded just a few more yards before coming into a cozy room with a green moss carpet, walls lined with books, a blaze flickering in a snug fireplace, and wood furniture cushioned with plump pillows. In the center of the room, three-legged stools surrounded a table set with elegant china and tall candles in shining silver holders.

Kale’s stomach rumbled at the sight and smells of delicious food. Granny Noon gave her arm an understanding squeeze. Her milk-white teeth peeked out between smiling bronze lips. Even in the shadowy light of the underground home, Kale could see the warmth and affection in the old woman’s face. For the first time since the o’rant girl had encountered the grawligs, she felt a measure of safety. She allowed the peace to settle in her heart. Her tense muscles relaxed, and she didn’t stiffen as Granny Noon laid an arm across her back.

“You can wash up in the room through there.” She gestured with a nod to a solid wooden door. “I’ll just put the kettle on for tea.”

Minutes later, Kale sat down to a table crowded with warm dishes. Rather than snatch up any of the tasty-looking items, she forced herself to exercise self-control. She’d learned manners serving at the better homes in River Away. But now she wanted to gobble the tiny sandwiches of crusty toasted bread filled with thin slices of meat and cheese. Granny Noon lifted the ceramic head off a rabbit-shaped tureen in the middle of the table and ladled fragrant vegetable stew into bowls.

Dar slurped and Leetu frowned at him, but Granny Noon did not seem to notice. She passed out sweet brown rolls, which must have been those she mentioned at the arched entryway. Dar cut his in two and lathered each half with butter. Granny cleared her throat. Dar looked her way, and then he graciously offered one half to Kale.

“Thank you.” She took the warm bread and savored a whiff of the aroma rising from the dark portion in her hand. Kale bit into the nordy roll, and a wonderful nutty taste flooded her mouth. She closed her eyes and chewed slowly, wondering before she even swallowed if she would be allowed another, or maybe two more.

“Eat your fish, dear,” Granny Noon’s voice urged her. Kale opened her eyes to see a new plate before her with a slice of pure white fish and a mound of mashed pink potatoes. Kale had only had the rare pnard potatoes when they were left over from festival dinners. Pnard potatoes were so delicious, most people scraped the bowls clean and left none for the slaves.

By the time Kale put down her fork, her middle bulged uncomfortably against the blue scarf tied at her waist.

“Thank you, Granny Noon. That was the best meal I ever ate.”

Leetu and Dar echoed her appreciation.

The old woman smiled and nodded. “We’ll leave the cleaning up for a while. It isn’t good to scurry around the kitchen when you need to relax and digest your supper. Perhaps Dar will play for us.”

The doneel beamed at being asked and went immediately to fetch his bag. He sorted through a number of small instruments and selected a flute. Granny Noon settled Kale on cushions in front of the fireplace. Leetu chose a book from a nearby shelf and sat closer to a branch of candles standing among the glowing rocks. Granny lowered herself into a rocker and pulled a piece of knitting from her basket. Within minutes Kale’s head nodded, and she laid her cheek against the velvety soft fabric of the cushion.

She wanted most to stay here in the cozy underground home of the oldest, kindest person she had ever met. To forget about Vendela, quests, dragon eggs, wizards, and grawligs—especially grawligs. To perhaps stay with Granny Noon and be her servant. That would be a dream come true.