PATHS AND PROBABILITIES
Ettie sat in the solar. It was afternoon, dusk just settling on the treetops. Her embroidery was spread out on the settee beside her, the part she was working in her hands. She squinted at the stitches, thinking she ought to move closer to the firelight if she wanted to see the fine stitches she made. She was making a design of magenta flowers on a deep forest-green ground.
I think I'm the last one here. Lady Amabel, Amice and Alina had occupied the solar with her for most of the day. She had been quiet, mostly, focused on the embroidery on her kirtle and trying to keep a low profile as the other three women chattered together. She had caught Alina's gaze on her occasionally, and looked quickly aside when she did so.
She makes me scared.
Ettie felt half in awe and half in fear of the imposing seer. Beautiful she undoubtedly was, but she also had a sinister air. Chrissie seemed to love her unreservedly, and that gave her some encouragement: mayhap beneath that serene, mystic nature was a warm heart. She wished she could ask the seer to foretell her future. Nevertheless, at the same time she was far too scared to ask.
“Lady Henriette?”
Ettie jumped, startled, and almost stabbed her finger with her needle.
“What?”
She had thought herself alone. She laid the sewing aside, focused on the person who sat before her nearer the fire, so silent she hadn't known they were there. She turned to face the speaker.
She was looking into Alina's black eyes. The flames flickered on their lucid surface, and Ettie had the sense that she was looking into her head, reading her mind. She shivered. The seer spoke.
“You have a question.”
Ettie gaped. “I...my lady, I...yes.” She nodded, looking at her hands, the skin pale in the ruddy firelight. How did she know?
Alina smiled. “I can read minds, yes: when the need arises. But in this case it wasn't needed.”
Ettie shivered again. “My lady, I did have a question. What do you see?” She paused, feeling the need to explain herself further. “The day I arrived, I noticed you seemed elsewhere. I wondered if my arrival had, er, set something in motion? Some change in our future? And you saw it?”
Alina smiled. Ettie looked into those fine eyes, mesmeric as she imagined the eyes of a snake. “Well,” the seer said warmly, “you are right. Some things changed, yes. Some things do that. Some things stay as they were. The changes are all inside.”
“Inside?” Ettie swallowed. “My lady, what changes?”
Alina laughed. “Not many. And all for the good, it seems. First, you need to trust.”
“Trust?” Ettie inquired. She licked dry lips.
“Yes. Nothing happens without that. The future is climbing a ladder, Ettie. You have to walk, sometimes, without seeing the top.”
Ettie looked at her hands. “I understand,” she said softly. “I think.”
“Good,” Alina grinned. “You have humility. That's more than some. You'll go far. You know what you don't know. That's a start.”
Ettie shivered. “What I don't know?” She paused. “I don't understand.”
“Ah, but you do.” Alina nodded. “You know there are things you don't know. You can admit that. And that's the beginning of trust. To know you cannot know.”
Ettie nodded. “I hope so,” she said. “I want to be...um...ready for all possibilities.”
Alina smiled. This time, there was warmth in her expression. When she smiled, really smiled, it transformed her face from the shifting planes of mystery and into breathtaking loveliness. She could have been no older than Ettie in that moment, though she knew she must be at least twice her age. Her almond eyes shone, thick lashed, in the flames, pale cheeks flawless beside her straight black hair.
“You are wise, young lady,” she said. “There is sweetness in you, and strength. You'll do well.” She reached out, and took her hand suddenly. “Hold onto yourself. Don't change. Just grow. That's the secret. And you're doing that already.”
Ettie smiled at her, swallowing hard as she tried to understand the message she had been given. “Thank you, Aunt Alina. I can call you that, mayn’t I?” she added hastily, afraid lest she offend the powerful seer with such an ordinary name.
Alina smiled. “You can call me what you will, dear. A name is the meaning you give to it.”
Ettie nodded. She felt as if her head was spinning. Talking to Alina was like walking down a winding corridor, with questions at every corner. She took a breath, held onto her sense of what was real, and present. “Thank you, Aunt,” she said.
“My pleasure.” The voice laughed.
As Ettie leaned back in the chair, Alina stood. “Anytime you want to talk, find me upstairs,” Alina said. And, with that, smoothing her dark velvet skirts with a smooth, pale hand, she went as silently as she appeared.
Whew.
Ettie leaned back on the settle, facing the roof. She hadn't noticed, but the fire had burned down to glowing embers while they talked, leaving the room in darkness. She shivered. That was easily the most frightening thing that's happened thus far.
Something about the seer was profoundly disconcerting. Enigmatic, challenging. She had the sense that Alina was testing her with everything she said, leading her on, probing her mind. She closed her eyes again and thought over the words.
Trust. The future is climbing a ladder. You can't see the top.
She breathed out and opened her eyes. Whatever she did in the future, she would bear that in mind.
“Ettie?”
Ettie looked up into the worried, flushed face of Amice, the daughter of the castle. She smiled. “Hello, Amice. Sorry...did I worry you?”
“Oh, no!” Amice said, flopping down into the seat where, a moment before, Alina was. “Mama was looking for you. We're having cakes and ale in the turret room and she wondered if you'd like something? I'm starved,” Amice added with a smile.
Ettie frowned. Her stomach lurched at the thought of food and she recalled that she'd barely eaten at luncheon. She nodded. “Thank you. I would.”
“Well, then!” Amice smiled. “Let's go.” She stood and crooked her arm so Ettie could slide hers through and, arm in arm, they left the solar, heading up the hallway where torches flickered to light their way to the north turret.
“You are sewing a new kirtle, yes?” Amice asked. “Chrissie said so.”
“For the gathering. Yes.”
“Oh!” Amice clapped her hands excitedly. “You're making a gown? What color? Can I see?”
Ettie smiled. She patted her hand. The younger girl was the sister she'd always wanted – lively, kind and sweet. She was glad to have met her: it was one of the best things about being at the castle, she decided. Amice and Brodgar were lovely people.
“It's purple,” she said. “Chrissie is in charge. I think the seamstress cut the pattern yesterday.” She had spent a quarter of an hour in the attic with Chrissie while the woman measured her for the gown, then another quarter hour at the least of it, discussing the latest fashions with them. The gown was going to have no waist, with long tube sleeves and a high neck. Quite how the neckline would look they had not yet decided. The seamstress had said she had several ideas. Ettie described it.
“Oooo!” Amice nodded enthusiastically. “I must have one made, too! Chrissie is right. Green, I think?”
“Green would look nice,” Ettie agreed. “Your hair would show up well. It'd suit you.”
“Oh! Thank you.” Amice smiled at her. “I'm glad you're here. I miss my sister. You're like a sister.”
Ettie felt her heart glowing. “Thank you,” she said fervently. “I have no sister. But if I had one, I'd want one like you.”
“Oh!” Amice blinked and Ettie was surprised to see the younger girl had tears in her eyes. “That's so kind,” she said. “You are sweet.”
“No,” Ettie said firmly. “I'm honest. Now, we'd best go up singly...these stairs are narrow.”
“Yes!” Amice chuckled, going quickly forward. “They are. Just as well Alec or Brod always make sure the torches burn here. Or someone'd break their neck here!”
Ettie nodded, shivering at the thought. She clung onto the rope balustrade and followed her young companion up the dark stairs.
The future is a ladder. You can't see the top.
Swallowing hard, she concentrated on where she put her feet, keeping pace with her younger companion as they ascended blindly, guided only by the flickering, fitful gold of the torches up ahead.
In the turret room, she was pleased to find a fire burning. Small, round-walled and cozy, the space was a relief after the dark, airy halls.
“Ah, there you are, dear,” Chrissie said from a chair by the fire. “How's the dress going?”
“I haven't asked Greere yet, Aunt.”
“Oh. Well, last time I saw her, she had it all cut out and was busy stitching up sleeves. She'll be wanting you to try them on before long, mark my words. Sit down, dear.” She indicated a settee opposite. Ettie glanced at Amice, who was pouring ale at the low table, and then sat down. Across the room from her, Lady Amabel gazed at her.
Ettie swallowed hard. She doesn't like me.
She had no idea how, but she seemed to have offended the regal lady of the house. She looked at her hands, wondering what she could say. “Is Brodgar still out riding?” she asked.
The instant it left her lips, she knew it was wrong. Lady Amabel's brow went up. “He and Alf left,” she said succinctly. “They'll return next week.”
“Next week?” Amice said, dismayed. Her comment was exactly what Ettie wanted to say, which was good. It saved her having to say it herself. She was sure Lady Amabel would disapprove heartily of disappointment.
“They'll be gone four days, or five,” the lady continued smoothly. “I expect that they'll come back with some news.” Her lips set hard and Ettie shivered.
She seems to be expecting something to change.
As she thought it, she looked into the pool of shadow near the door. Alina was there. The firelight shone into her eyes and the enigmatic seer smiled at her.
There are changes. And they are all inside.
Ettie swallowed. “I trust that the news will be good,” she murmured. Alina looked at her and it might have been Ettie's imagination, or it might have actually happened, but she seemed to incline her head in swift approval.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in lively discussion. Chrissie told a story about a dress that had been made too small for her, and having to make last-minute adjustments moments before the event, and Amabel teased Amice about dancing at the gathering. Alina was mostly quiet during the talk, Ettie noted. She was stitching something, watching the others with an odd look on her face.
She saw her looking at her sister, Lady Amabel, with a soft amusement. She was surprised. Could it be that, despite the evident enmity the lady of the house felt, Alina was on her side in this? She shook her head. Alina and Amabel were sisters, their love legendary. Even she had heard how they had saved each other’s lives once, in a feud caused by the MacDonnell, a fearsome local clan and the bitter enemy of Lochlann and Dunkeld.
No, she thought, looking at her hands, which held a tankard of mulled ale, it must be imagination.
Amice grinned at her. “Ettie?” she asked, “if I get some parchment, could you help me to draw a picture of what I want for the gathering? I have a clear idea in my head of how the gown should look, only I can't think how to ask Greere for it.”
Ettie nodded quickly. “Of course. I think drawing it's a fine plan.”
Amice dimpled. “Sometimes a picture is better than words. And Greere is so particular. She knows all the fancy words for designs of dress, and I just know how it must look. Now, I was thinking, the sleeves should go like this...” She gestured, then went to the table where there was parchment and a charcoal stick, for drawing. “I want them to come out from the wrist, like that...”
With her eyes squinting slightly in the half-light from the fire, Amice proceeded to draw the dress she wanted. Ettie encouraged her.
Sitting there, firelight playing warmly over them both, Ettie felt a profound sense of peace. She looked over at the three older women, but they were sitting closer now, talking among themselves in low voices. Ettie felt a sudden flutter of nerves.
Where did Brodgar go? Why was he going to be away for so long. And, more importantly, what might change?
She had no way of knowing: all she could do was trust.