Among the Graves

[Derin Edala]

Derin was bewildered at Saruna's sudden energy. The details of her explanation went completely over Derin's head, whose acquaintance with dry ingredients went far enough to know that they could be used to thicken stew or flavour things and not much else. Well, the woman obviously liked baking. Derin filed that point away for future reference. She couldn't really figure out why her admission that she couldn't bake had caused such a change in the woman's manner... she was familiar with the concept of a show of weakness putting somebody at ease when you moved on their territory, but... that didn't feel right. This woman wasn't aggressive, or gloating. She was different to the people that Derin had grown up with.

That only became more evident when they got to the kitchen. Derin had taken instruction before, from gloating, brisk individuals who lorded their temporary superiority over her as they worked and met failure with swift punishment and snide comments, and from inferiors who revelled in their ability to outclass her in something in a far more subtle manner but in front of whom it was twice as humiliating to fail, but this woman was much more gentle. She seemed to enjoy teaching her skill; not as an opportunity to demonstrate her strength, but out of a love of sharing the skill. It was incredibly strange. Derin made a mental note to interact with older women more often and find out if this was a common feature; surely somebody with that sort of disposition would be exploited until she'd taught everybody and find herself on the bottom of the pecking order very quickly? She must be very secure in her other abilities, or she wouldn't give away strengths so freely.

For the first time in her life, Derin found that taking direction from her wasn't unpleasant. She didn't really understand much of what was going on, but she found that she wasn't reluctant to ask questions when she needed clarification either.

"So this stuff will harden into bread or biscuits or something when we heat it up?" she asked skeptically.

[Saruna]

Busybody that she was, Saruna had managed to start more tea in between the flour and sugar and sponge and last night's dough setting in the cellar that she'd had Derin fetch with a would-you-be-so-kind entreaty, that Derin had gotten with nary a whine or whimper (as, with a sniff, Saruna recalled most children would engage in when you asked them to do anything that did not involve eating, sleeping or free time at their own volition, and even then they may not wish to do so if it was at yours). It was as if, for the past many months or more, Saruna had simply been sleep walking in a void that involved approaching age and the hazy idea that death might fall upon her today, or tomorrow, or the day after while she was sleeping, and she might slip and slide down into its embrace without her being any the wiser. As if she was just repeating the same actions over and over, because she had to do something and she liked the comfortable routine.

But, but that was foolishness! What fuss, and over nothing. It couldn't be true, could it? She had never been overly morose, or easily depressed. She wished and dreamed as much as any other person (no no, knead harder there, yes, that's the idea), but she had enjoyed herself. She could not be waiting around to die, could she? Waiting, as though for an eager meeting with one beloved, because there was no other beloved to wait for? She hadn't.

Had she?

Her hands had started to tremble, though that was not anything unusual when she put herself through the day with unaccustomed vigor, and her voice had gone hoarse and froggy with all the talking, when she suddenly realized Derin had asked a question that didn't pertain to the immediate task at hand.

"I--" she said, and stared at Derin with slowly focusing eyes, and absentmindedly patted the other on the shoulder. Yes, there were the rounds for what Saruna fondly thought of as Thar Cakes (seeing as how the finer flours found in the original Eyropean recipes did not find their way through Marn or Shim without a hefty increase in price that Saruna simply could not pay), and yesterday's bread dough, and here Saruna blinked in mild surprise, a new sponge for tomorrow's bread. When had she ? "I must sit down," she was suddenly telling Derin, feeling a little light headed, "all this activity has worn on me, I'm afraid." And then she was retiring to the armchair with the largest down feather cushions she'd ever made, and more succinctly than before Saruna was instructing Derin on what baking stone with their doughy trophies on top went where.

She felt so very overwhelmed.

"Bread and biscuits should not be hard." Was what she automatically said, after she'd taken her seat. "But the heat turns their texture from one thing to another. It is almost a magic of its own, baking." By this point, she was talking down into her tea, and she took a sip and gave a funny little half smile. It was almost cold.

[Derin Edala]

Derin watched with some concern as Saruna took a seat, declaring a need to rest, but continued to carry her directions out without comment. Catching herself, she looked back at the dough; in her experience, showing overt concern was a subtle way of highlighting another's weakness, so she kept her thoughts to herself. She hadn't noticed the woman weakening, but with human bodies it was hard to tell where their limits were; Derin herself recalled pushing her body through pain, through all limits, until suddenly collapsing on the side of the road and nearly dying. It wasn't a mistake she had repeated; pain was inconvenient, but a good warning system. But then, the woman was probably just taking it easy. Some people here liked to do that. She probably wasn't life-threateningly weak.

"It is almost a magic of its own, baking."

Derin nodded. She'd almost proposed the same idea, but wasn't sure how to word the concept. It was a deliberate, arcane ritual, the details of which were presumably mysterious, carefully contructed to get a result that could differ based on minute differences in the steps; the kind of careful, formulaic magic that she had learned. Had learned, and couldn't perform.

She worked in near-silence, forming the dough under her fingers. Eventually, she ventured, "how long does this skill usually take to master?"

[Saruna]

Saruna looked at her hands as she placed her unelegant teacup on the nearest flat surface, noting their creases and furrows caused by the wrinkles of old age. Mako had gone, she realized, as she lifted her eyes to watch Derin's movement. He had left without saying goodbye, she realized, in the way of strangers who had briefly passed another on the street. Would Derin be another glimpse into a life that did not cross her own? Or would she perhaps stay, and share that which she did not have to, or need to?

Saruna relaxed back into her chair, indulging herself in the plump, soft cushions as she considered Derin's question. She smiled. "Master is a grand word for what I do. It is very easy to understand the basics, to make good food, but it does take a little time to get a good feel for how much of this or that you should add, or how much heat and for how long. Myself, why, it wasn't until after -- " my children had grown a little. She looked back at the tea. "Well, the more years you put into working with food, the easier the work will come. Now then, the dough looks to be about ready to put over the fire, and with the dough in the heat all we must do is wait a bit of time. Come, perhaps you could tell me about yourself?"

[Derin Edala]

"Come, perhaps you could tell me about yourself?"

Oookay.

This was bound to happen eventually. Derin wished that she'd put more time into coming up with a good cover story. She'd had to give her story a few times on the road, of course, but that was merely to temprary acquaintances, stories to fill the empty night; if all went well, she'd probably be in Shim a while, meaning that her story couldn't have holes. At least, not ones that she couldn't edit later with a good explanation. Perhaps she should stick as close to the truth as possible.

"Uh... sure."

Derin put the dough on the fire as she was instructed, before going to sit with Saruna. She shrugged. "There's really not much to tell," she said. "I grew up on a small farm. My older brother was going to inherit the farm, so I went to find work elsewhere when I was sixteen and managed to score a job as a maid at a nearby manor. It was a good job. After a couple of years, my mother... left. She asked me to come with her, but I had settled into my own life... I never saw her again." She paused briefly. "My father and brother were both killed the following year, so I returned to the farm. I married a nice boy. Together we coaxed enough food from the ground to live comfortably. I had a son. Called him Jeremy." She paused again, puzzled at the tears that were once again stinging her eyes. Oh come on, what was she upset about this time? She could recall the little boy's soft face, his smile as he stared up at her...

Stupid residual maternal instinct.

"He died. I couldn't handle it. Everyone I'd ever... I left the farm in the care of my husband and decided to seek out my mother. We got a divorce; the farm's in his name now, I didn't want it. My mother was a bit... eccentric, and not easy to track. I should never have let her leave without me, really."

[Saruna]

History was something that made a person a little bit reluctant to talk to strangers, in Saruna's experience. Yet, she had ever so casually inquired after Derin's, and while the young lady was not precisely hesitant, the open wound was still there in her face and within the expressive quality of voice. Saruna lifted a hand to her mouth in a shock of empathy that made her stomach tumble and her heart ache, and immediately felt chastened that she had felt so melancholy over her own children leaving. None of them had died. Sometimes it felt like they had anyways, but. . .no! No, to think so was to trample Derin's own tragedy.

So, Saruna said the only thing she could even remotely think to say.

"Oh! Oh my dear, I am so sorry to hear that. How awful that must have been for you, so very awful. And without your mother to help soften the blow." She shook her head, hand lingering around her chin. "What a terribly painful shock to go through on your own. You must be very brave to strike out on your own. Oh, oh I am so sorry."

She was brave, Saruna thought, because Saruna had simply watched her loved ones move away from her. Saruna would never chase them down. But wasn't she too old to move across such a long distance to a way of life that she had never lived? She was not her mother to grow up in a noble lifestyle.

She ended that line of inquiry with the thought; she did not want to examine it too closely to see if it was an excuse.

[Derin Edala]

Derin shrugged hopelessly. "Sometimes bad things just happen. All we can do is accept that, and decide where to go from there." She was slightly puzzled at the lack of probing questions; she'd expected her story to be pressed and scrutinised the moment she'd given it. She was a little put out that it wasn't, actually; she had such lovely, realistic-sounding cover stories for the apparent holes that she'd become aware of as she told it. Well, they'd serve her well later on, if Saruna ever questioned the details.

Of course, the woman probably just didn't care about Derin's past. That might be why she didn't press anything; she'd only asked in the first place to be polite. Either way, revealing the details of her dead relatives had certainly caused a reaction; it seemed that sob stories about family ties were indeed Saruna's weakness.

With that thought, the most marvellous idea occurred to Derin.

The implementation would have to wait, though. Patience was the key.

"But hopefully, this town will be the end of my journey. If my mother is here, I can close that chapter of my life and start again. I'm still very young, after all."

[Saruna]

Every so often in the company of strangers ( or near strangers, or acquaintances who were on the way to becoming familiar people) Saruna would make some small error in the excitement that leapt ahead of her small reserves of caution, or even her lingering shyness. Gazing at Derin, with her admittance to still being young, with such trials ahead of her, Saruna had a rush of emotion that she vaguely recalled having many years ago, and she made that mistake by opening her mouth.

"Why, my dear, if that is the case perhaps you can stay with me as long as you'd like!" She said, and was beaming at Derin until she realized just how awkwardly foward and prying that was. She'd been raised to be polite, and here she was pressing her loneliness on some poor girl who already had enough burdens on her shoulder. Quickly, Saruna added: "If you like, well, I expect you have plans of your own but I have so much extra room in this old house. . ." she mumbled on for a few more sentances as she felt her face flush.

[Derin Edala]

Derin stared at Saruna for several seconds. Two thoughts vied for attention in her head.

That solves everything.

What the hell is this woman thinking?

Derin's only long-term exposure to the sort of generosity and lack of suspicion that Saruna was showing was as a display of power, a dominance tactic; a sign that the provider was so much more powerful that anything they were giving was irrelevant, that the other person was simply not capable of harming them so they didn't care enough to be suspicious. It was an attitude that Derin had attracted a lot as a child.

Derin was beginning to suspect that Saruna was far, far more powerful than she was letting on. That made sense... as individuals grew they gained in power and experience... but in Derin's experience elder women tended to be frail. She was probably a highly intelligent master of some ancient powerful skill, then, or held sway over important people.

She'd have to be careful, but... Derin seemed to have lucked out with this one.

Some response seemed to be called for on her part. She bowed her head and said in a quiet voice, "I would be honoured to stay with you. Thank you." She wasn't sure how such manners applied here, but it was much easier for people to excuse being too polite than not polite enough, in her experience.

[Saruna]

Saruna was beginning to fret that she had indeed somehow offended Derin, and the other woman was merely too polite to say so. Saruna saw the signs of it in the way Derin was staring at her quietly, looking like there was much on her mind, and thought that in Derin's position she, Saruna would feel quite awkward indeed. It was difficult to be offered help when you yourself had little to give, and hadn't Saruna experienced some of that when her father had vanished and her mother died? Strangers had pressed themselves on her, seeking to help, and it had made Saruna feel trapped and put-upon. All she'd wanted to do was hide herself in her family and her home, and Derin didn't even have that.

What a meddling old woman she'd turned out to be, she scolded herself.

But Derin accepted anyways, the dear she was, and Saruna ducked her head a little in self-effacing shame that she'd put such a choice upon the younger woman. Well, nothing else to do but make up for it by being a good host.

"Good then, good, very lovely," Saruna blathered a little, and hoped and hoped Derin might just interpret it as old, doddering age taking effect. "Would you like some more tea? Something to eat? Something else to drink? Anything you might want to know about Shim, or want to talk about?" She just couldn't seem to stop once she'd started, and she fought the urge to flee into her room, or outside, or somewhere else where no one was around to be embarrassed in front of.

Saruna smiled weakly at Derin, and tried very hard to make it look effortless.

[Derin Edala]

Well, her acceptance seemed to be well-recieved, at least.

" Actually, I am a bit hungry," Derin said, Saruna's questions making her aware that this was in fact the case. Stupid body... she'd eaten barely 12 hours ago. "And about Shim... if I find what I hope to find, I'm going to need to get a job to support myself. Any suggestions?"

[Saruna]

Thank goodness the girl seemed to be very politely excusing Saruna for her pushiness. At the first mention of hunger, Saruna felt a fresh new wave of energy wash over her, and she was out of her chair and bustling for the cellar before the girl's question about a job had finished leaving her lips. "Just a moment dear!" She called, and vanished down the cellar steps before reappearing a few minutes later with some grain and a slice of some cheese wheel or another. A smaller bag held more dried fruits (which Saruna apparently had in excess), and soon she was mixing everything up into a mash with some water and space was made under the rack, above which the goods were coming along quite nicely.

She poked and prodded at this and that, and then came back to her chair with a much happier air. She loved feeding people. "There now, that's settled, so you want to find a job?" Her mouth pinched together a little, and she thought about it. "The Red Chalice can always use help. Oh, dear me, what do you enjoy doing, child? I'm sure we can find you something you have some experience with."

[Derin Edala]

What did she enjoy doing? Very little that was applicable to her current situation. Most of her old skills didn't translate well.

"Uh, I can read and write a lot of languages," she began, "and I'm good at embroidery and beading... I know a little about gemcutting and jewellerymaking..." she didn't add that the last one was mostly a study of theory. "I'm a reasonably competent fighter; not a professional, but I could probably be a good guard or bouncer. I can pick up new skills pretty quickly, so whatever's going, really. It shouldn't be too hard to pick up skills for pretty much anything at the Red Chalice, should it?" It was a tavern, for the Plane's sake, a trained monkey could do it.

[Saruna]

Saruna was a little surprised at the amount of knowledge the girl had. Perhaps, since the death of her child, she had taken to picking up new skills, much as Saruna had picked up gardening. The poor girl.

"Oh my, if you wanted to make use of your other skills, you would most likely have to go to Marn. I'm afraid little Shim simply isn't big enough to foster that sort of need. . .but the Red Chalice would be easy work. Long and tiring, definitely, but simple enough. Perhaps later we might go there to see if they need help? " Saruna pondered, and brightened a little, "Of course, if you are handy with embroidery, you might even help me with my sewing." She tilted her head a little as she looked at Derin, seemingly waiting for some sort of confirmation one way or another.

[Derin Edala]

Derin nodded. She had no feelings, one way or the other, about sewing or the Red Chalice. They were activities that she could perform to help support herself, and that was about all she thought of the matter. Marn, of course, was out of the question, unless Saruna had exaggerated their magical paranoia. "I mostly do delicate stitchwork; fine embroidery and beading," she explained. Noble ladies' work to occupy idle hands. "I have little experience with more common methods of sewing." She assumed that most sewing techniques would be very easy to pick up; it was all quite similar. "I can weave as well, if I can access a loom."