Dindi
Dindi wondered how she would explain to Jensi why she hadn't cut even one blade of sedge grass.
She had been dancing with the Brundorfae… then spying on the Tavaedies. She had no idea how much time had passed. At least she had enough sense to leave before the Tavaedies finished.
She walked back the way she had come. The sun, which had felt warm and pleasant before, now felt like one of Yellow Bear's smelting ovens. Her shoulder basket felt as heavy as a mountain.
When she crossed the stream again, Jensi ran up to her.
"There you are!" Jensi said. "Don't think I've forgotten our bet. We'll compare our piles when we're with the others."
At least that won't take long, Dindi thought. I didn't cut anything. My pile will be empty.
The maidens had gathered in a shady glade by the stream. Jensi had already picked a good place to sit, next to some round stones that made nice seats. She had spread out two mats and was unloading her basket onto one of them.
Neatly bundled sheaves of sedge grass dropped onto the mat. The pile reached her knees.
"There's mine!" she said proudly. "Now let's see yours! Turn over your basket!"
Dindi sighed. She pulled off her basket and tipped it over the second mat.
Strange. The basket felt heavier than she remembered…
Sheaves of sedge grass dropped out. Then more. And more. The pile grew until it reached well above her waist.
Jensi's jaw dropped.
"I take it back, Dindi," she said. "You must have worked really hard all day. I'm proud of you. I mean it."
A yellow pixie fluttered down and sat on top of Dindi's pile, smirking.
Dindi covered her face with one hand. She whispered to the pixie, "Did you have something to do with this?"
"Not me," the pixie said, with a shrug. "My friends and I were going to fill your basket with lovely thorny thistles to thank you for dancing with us—but the Brundorfae filled it with all this boring grass before we could."
So, High fae gave better gifts than low fae.
But knowing the fae, Dindi also guessed: whatever favor they gave now, the price later would be much greater.
*
Brena
That whole week, Brena's daughter refused to speak to her.
Gwenika didn't openly disobey orders. But in every other way, she made it clear—she had not forgiven Brena.
Brena tried hard not to lose her temper. She also tried not to feel guilty. She told herself Gwenika was acting childish.
Since the Tavaedi Initiates wouldn't meet again until after the victory feast, Brena threw herself into preparing for the banquet.
The young men went hunting.
The Tavaedi Initiates sewed and mended costumes.
The maidens did most of the cooking.
The other teachers gave the maidens extra jobs—cleaning fish, grinding and bleaching acorns, weaving baskets and mats for the feast.
Brena took charge of making the sugar loaves.
Once the maidens brought the sedge grass back to the Tor of the Initiates, there was still much work to do.
Under the shade of the longhouses, Brena gave instructions.
First, the young women spread the cane grass on bearskin rugs in the sun to dry.
The next day, they beat the dry grass with wooden sticks. This made the droplets of honeydew come loose from the grass tips. The sweet dust stuck to the hides.
They scraped the sugar off the bearskin with flint tools.
Next, they sifted the dust through a loose basket and poured it into a tight cooking basket. Then they added cold water and mixed it into a stiff dough.
The dough was tough and had to be kneaded hard. It had to be slapped and pressed into shape.
Finally, they wrapped the loaves in tule mats and left them to dry in stacks under the eaves.
It was also Brena's job to choose which maidens would serve at the High Table.
I'm not feeling guilty, she told herself as she went to look for Dindi. I just feel sorry for the poor girl.
She almost changed her mind when she found her.
Dindi sat in the middle of what looked like a bird's nest disaster. Reeds stuck out in every direction. She was trying to untangle a hopeless mess of juncus strands.
If Brena hadn't already known what Dindi was trying to make, she never would have guessed it was supposed to be a funnel-shaped basket.
Right now, it looked more like a rolling tumbleweed.
She's just not too bright, is she? Brena thought. She sighed—but kept going.
"Dindi, we need serving maidens to help at the High Table. Would you accept the honor?"
"Zavaedi Brena!" Dindi jumped, clearly startled. As usual, she seemed to notice Brena at the last second—like someone caught sneaking food.
"Er… certainly," Dindi said.
She stood up and instantly tripped over her half-finished basket.
Brena rubbed her forehead. A headache was starting.
I'm going to regret this, she thought.