Page 6 of Weaving Winter

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Nyett said. “My daughter’s getting married, and unfortunately, my sister got my mother’s bride-dress. I wore an every day outfit, and I want something more for my daughter. This…this is beautiful, and it looks like it would fit her. I promised I’d find her a dress and I can easily custom this to her before the spring wedding.”

My heart leapt. I knew I needed to sell the dress, but I also wanted it to go to someone who would love it. “You think she’d like this?”

Nyett nodded. “I can add some pale green beads to compliment the blue. Yes, I think she’ll love it. How much are you asking?”

That stalled me. I needed thirty-six more gold coins to make the tithe, more if I were to have anything left over. But I didn’t have a clue how much bride-dresses went for.

Nyett must have seen the confusion on my face because she said, “I would pay fifty gold for a new one. How about, since this is already made and not new, thirty gold?”

I worried my lip. “Do you happen to need any meat, as well?” If I couldn’t get full price, I’d have to check elsewhere first. Yet, I didn’t want to chance losing a sale.

“You need money,” Nyett said. It was a statement, not a question.

I nodded. “Yes, I didn’t want anyone to know how desperately I need coin, but you’re right. I need at least thirty-six gold, or I’ll be in trouble. I have to pay off debts my mother left.”

“I think I can manage forty coins,” Nyett said. “And yes, I also need meat. How much do you have?”

“Come look,” I said, handing her the dress. I knew she wouldn’t stiff me. She was a shrewd business woman, but she was honest.

She followed me out to the stables, where I showed her the packages of aged meat. “Most of it’s venison, two turkeys and bacon from a wild pig I met in the woods.” There was probably a good seventy pounds of meat on the sledge.

“I’ll give you an extra twenty coins for the meat.”

It was worth more, but I wasn’t going to argue. That would give me twenty-four coins above what I needed, and that was a good start on next year’s tithe.

“Deal. Thank you.” I followed her back inside, after she bade Jet to unload the sledge and take the meat into the pantry cellar.

As she counted out the coins, wrapping them in a soft cloth, I ate my breakfast. Rona had brought in porridge and fruit and cheese. Nyett didn’t ask me what debts I was facing, and I didn’t offer an explanation. Instead, we chatted about her daughter’s upcoming wedding, about my mother’s death, and life in general.

Coin in hand—or rather, stuffed into my bodice where nobody would notice it—I started for home early in the morning. I had expected to take all day trying to sell my goods, and now that I had the money in hand, I was anxious to return and pay the tithe as soon as I could. The day was rainy, though, and traveling was harder. Yaran didn’t like the thunder that echoed around us, and although I did my best to shelter beneath my hooded cloak, even water resistant leather with a coating of duck fat still ended up soaking wet.

Finally, shortly after sunset, I arrived back in town and, as soon as I settled Yaran in his stall, I headed for my house. As I approached the door, I saw what looked like a Lien Notice plastered on the door.

“Crap! Why couldn’t he wait just one more day,” I muttered, ripping the paper off the wall. I unlocked the door and let myself in, stopping to light the lantern near the front door. I carried it through the house, making sure nobody had broken in, then built a fire and settled in the rocking chair next to the hearth. Then, and only then, did I take a deep breath and examine the paper.

Asajia Wildwalker:

Dated: Day 12 of the Ice Moon, Year 10, Cycle of the Dragon. Delivered by rights of the Magistrate of Renmark, People of the Snow. I, Sheriff Lief Garimorn, am authorized to summon you to stand trial for failure to pay your annual tithes. You are summoned to the Tribunal Court tomorrow (Day 13), at midday. If you do not appear, you will be arrested for non-payment of tithes.

I stared at the notice. I had thought it was a lien, which would stand till I paid the tithes, but this was a summons. It went a step beyond a lien. With a groan, I glanced out the window. It was dark, and Sanya was most likely asleep. I desperately needed to talk, but I didn’t want to mess up her schedule.

“Surely, if I’m able to pay the tithe, they’ll excuse this,” I whispered, trying to reassure myself. There wasn’t much I could do until noon tomorrow, so I finally stripped, washed up, then dressed in a comfortable nightgown and ate dinner. I had the coins to pay the tithe, plus more. But something told me to hide the extra.

Without knowing why, other than paranoia, I began to stitch the extra coins, along with the ones hidden beneath the floorboards, into the lining of my cloak. I could always remove them, but this way, they were hidden and the sheriff couldn’t steal them as an extra punishment.

Weary and my stomach fluttering with butterflies, I finally crawled in bed, but it was difficult to sleep and my dreams were filled with fire and ice.

Morning came with a thin layer of snow on the ground. I dressed as nice as I could, wearing one of my mother’s dresses and my blue cloak with the coins sewn inside. I brushed my hair back. Long and coppery red, my locks fell to my lower back. I couldn’t wear my hair in braids. Those were reserved for married women, at least in our village. So, I tried to tame the cascade of curls with a ponytail. I slicked balm on my lips to keep them from chapping, and—carrying a purse with my coins for the tithe inside—I shut the door firmly behind me and walked the distance to the Council House.

The Council House was in the center of the village, with cobblestone steps leading up to the landing. Here, the Magistrate and sheriff spent their days. Most of the guards spread out through the town to keep the peace, except for those left to personally watch over the Magistrate.

The building was made of stone, built to last and built to weather the harsh winters. It was three stories high. Below the ground floor was the dungeon where prisoners were held. Two guards stood next to the entrance, patting down everyone who entered the building. One of them was female, she attended to the women. The other was a massive man, whose chest was as broad as a barrel. I couldn’t imagine any man except a warrior standing up to him.

I held out my arms, letting the female guard pat me down, though I prayed she wouldn’t find the coins I’d sewn into my hem. But she did a perfunctory job and, bored, waved me through.

As I entered the Council House and walked over to the woman behind a desk, I handed her my summons paper and she glanced at it. “You can go into Room 4. It’s up the stairs over there, first door on the right.” She motioned to a side staircase, barely registering my face. At least I didn’t feel like I was on their most wanted list. Nobody had jumped forward to arrest me on my immediate appearance.

“Thank you,” I murmured, then headed for the stairs. As I rested my hand on the polished banister, my dread grew with each step. While I was relieved that, so far, nobody seemed too concerned with my presence, the unknown had played too long at my feet the past few years. It was always scary to face an authority figure. Especially one who could strip every dime you had from you.

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