Finally.  I was free to explore on my own.  As usual, there were few people in the streets, but the few watched me with obvious curiosity.   Some stared, unabashed, while others stole unobtrusive glances.  I wondered if they knew that I was not from their world or if they merely recognized me as a stranger.  

The streets themselves were dry and dusty and, in the narrower ones, clotheslines stretched overhead from the rooftops or the second-story windows of the adobe houses.  The women sported loose blouses and long skirts of various hues, sometimes with a vest, while the men wore breeches—some rolled up to mid-calf with sandals, some long with boots—and loose shirts.  

Once, when I was passing down a rather wide street, three children, two boys and a girl, stopped kicking a ball to watch me.

“D’you think she’s a maj?” the little girl asked in a whisper that carried farther than she knew.

A smile quirked on my face.

“Naw,” one of the boys replied, shaking his head.  “Look at her ears.  Besides, she’s got no ring.  Maybe she’s a courier.”

“Nav!”  Up the street a woman in an apron called from a doorway and the tallest boy spun around.  “Nav, Simit, come here.”  The two darker children glanced back at me and then trotted toward their mother followed by the little redhead.  The mother was eyeing me warily and I sensed that I was the reason that the children had been called away from their games.  It seemed the people here were only accepting of me when I was with Trenwyn. 

I passed what I took to be a kind of trading post or general store near the main gate, and then headed toward the sandstone cliffs that formed Rhir’s western wall.  On the way, I saw a wooden sign hanging outside a building that read “Medicia” and had a leaf carved into the wood on either side of the word.  This sign intrigued me, but the shop seemed closed, so I passed it by.  The next shop that caught my eye was set apart by the full-length glass window on the front, unlike any other building I’d seen in the town.  “Fine Wool and Yarn,” the sign in the window read.  This one seemed open and I wandered inside. 

There was only one woman in the shop, leaning lazily on the counter, apparently in the middle of wrapping long strings of varying colored yarn into tight balls.  She was short, just over five feet, with long black hair that fell straight to her waist, large brown eyes, slightly slanted and lined in black, and voluptuous red lips.  Really, all of her was voluptuous.  She dressed differently than any other woman I’d seen here, sporting tall heeled boots, tight tan breeches, and a white blouse.  “Hello,” I greeted her, wondering what to do next.  I wasn’t really here to buy yarn, even if I’d had any money, and I felt awkward for having come in. 

The woman was staring at me with an unreadable expression, her gaze taking me in from sandals to head.  At last, when she met my eyes, she smiled brightly.  “You are the earther, aren’t you?”  Her direct question took me off guard and she continued before I could answer.  “The girl Master Trenwyn has been taking care of.  I heard about you at The Bane yesterday.”

This sent a chill down my spine.  If this stranger knew about me, everyone in this village must.  Were there any Seti or agents here to learn this?

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, love!”  The woman’s voice was rich with an exotic accent and her skin was darker than that of the other villagers.  I was sure she wasn’t native to this village.  She set down her balls of yarn on the counter and took a step toward me, still smiling warmly.  “Welcome to Rhir, my lady.  I am Zita.  Zita Qih.”

Finally recovering some presence of mind, I extended my hand to grasp the one she offered me.  “They call me Ethereal,” I replied.  

“Pleased to meet you, Ethereal.”  

Had she said that because she knew I was an “earther?”  “How did you know I was an earther?” I asked aloud.  The woman seemed friendly enough and I wanted to know what it was that was giving me away.

She laughed musically.  “You’re out of place.  Here in Rhir, everybody knows everybody in town, and you’re not dressed like a courier.  Meggie told me of the earther with the hurt hand and it’s not hard to put the two together.”

I nodded, frowning at my splinted hand.  “Are you from here?”  I couldn’t hide the doubt in my voice and the woman laughed again.  “You mean you don’t believe I’m from Rhir?” She placed a hand on her chest, feigning shock and laughed again.  “I am the diversity in the village.”  She seemed proud of this fact.  “I grew up south of Dervis in what these people call Eversia.  We call it Cahtkoo.  I was captured and brought north to Heshbon when I was fifteen and sold to a rich old man.”  She smiled wryly and shook her head.  “Fortunately, I pleased him and he freed me on his deathbed four years later, leaving me enough money to start a life of my own.  I traveled north to Rhir, and found no reason to go any farther.”

How should I reply to such a tale?  She didn’t seem to want sympathy.  “How long have you been in Rhir?”

“Ummm…” She put her finger on her chin, and looked thoughtful.  “It will be ten years in Harveston—that’s your October, I think.  How long will you be staying in Rhir, Ethereal?”

I glanced at the floor.  “I’m not sure.  At least two more days, I think.”

“Then you’ll be coming to the spring festival?”

“When is this festival?” I asked, interested.

“Moonsday.  The day after tomorrow.”  Her eyes lit up.  “Ah, there’s such dancing!  All the local steads contribute to the feast and all the women get together to cook.  Everybody comes out in their best clothes and there is a bonfire, and we dance in the great meadow until dawn.”  Her expression was one of ecstasy for a brief moment before she snapped back.  “So what do you think?”

“I would definitely like to come, but I don’t have anything appropriate to wear and I don’t know that Trenwyn would approve.”  Indeed, I was sure that socializing with the whole village and potential Seti agents and majai would be the last thing Trenwyn had in mind for me to be doing. 

“I’m sure the Duri will be fine with you going,” Zita said dismissively.  “And I can get you something to wear. You could even come stay at my house tomorrow night and get ready with me the next morning.  Orik and I have a lovely stead outside the village and I have a little orphan lamb—my little Chet-chal.  You’d love her.  Do you like spicy food?”

I was a bit taken aback at her open hospitality and suspicion crept up.  “You don’t even know me, Zita,” I protested, still trying to be polite.  “Why would you invite me to your house?”

Her face became somber for the first time I’d seen.   “I know what it’s like to be a stranger in a foreign place.  I know what it’s like to be in trouble.  Besides, I like earthers.  Orik, my man, is an Omri, so I know quite a bit about Earth and your culture.  People here in the village tend to be, well, small-minded, and I have seen more than most of them ever will in their lives.  I like company and new refreshing stories.”

I was a little reluctant, but this woman seemed without guile and I liked her.  “I do want to come, if I can.  I can talk to Trenwyn about it later when I meet him at the tavern for dinner.”

“Oh, you’re going to The Bane tonight?  Me too!  The musicians for the spring festival are here and will be playing there tonight.”  She smiled playfully.  “I’m never one to turn down the chance to dance.  And I’m sure I can talk to master Trenwyn and help convince him if necessary.”

I felt better knowing I wouldn’t be facing Trenwyn alone.  I guessed that Zita could be a formidable opponent in an argument. 

“Do you have some time now, Ethereal?”

I nodded, a bit cautious, and Zita continued, “I need to go to my friend’s shop for something, and she would love to meet you.  Will you come with me?  Then, later, perhaps we can go over to The Bane together.”

“Of course.”  Would Zita’s friend be anything like her?  I followed as she pushed open the door and started back the way I’d come.  I thought it odd that she would abandon her shop during business hours, especially without locking the door.  Maybe Rhir was just a very close-knit, trusting town.  

We walked down the street, Zita’s hips swaying all the way, until we were back at the “Medicia” building.  The little bell over the door tinkled musically as Zita pushed her way into the shop, which still looked closed.  As soon as the door opened, the scent of strong herbs washed over me.  The walls were lined with shallow shelves from floor to ceiling and these shelves were filled with bottles and bowls.  There were also little wax-looking pieces and dried plants hanging from the ceiling rafters and along the shelves.  There was no counter in this shop, but merely a small, round table with three chairs situated around it and more bottles and rough paper on it.  Nobody was there. 

“Marda!” Zita called.  She was answered by a noise from above and I now saw the small, circular staircase leading up to a second level. 

“Marda!” Zita called again after a minute.

Moments later, a pair of feet started descending the staircase.  The woman attached to the feet wore a reddish-brown skirt and, unlike most I’d seen in Rhir, her skirt straight and thin.  The woman was thin too.  The off-white blouse she wore was tighter than most, the sleeves ending just past her elbows.  Her auburn hair was pulled tightly back into a high bun.  She could not have been more than thirty-five but her large hazel eyes seemed older than the rest of her.  Marda finished her descent, smiled a greeting to Zita, then turned her intense gaze upon me.  Thin lips came together to form a line.  I was not entirely sure she approved of me.

“This is Ethereal, Marda,” Zita introduced us.

“Earther, eh?” she asked me.

Like Zita, this woman cut to the chase.  “Yes.”  Simplicity seemed the best way with this woman.

“She’s with Trenwyn and the Duri, at least for the next few days,” Zita explained.  “And she’ll be coming to the spring festival.”

Marda smiled.  It brightened her whole face, though the shrewdness never left.  “With the Duri?  How interesting.”  This last note was more to herself than us.  “Trenwyn brought you over then?” Marda inquired.

“Yes,” I said again.

Marda looked down at the floorboards, brows furrowed. 

“Marda!”  I caught the hint of exasperation in Zita’s voice and Marda’s head snapped up.

“Forgive me.”  She smiled apologetically.  “It’s nice to meet you, Ethereal.”  She extended her hand and I took it.  Her grip was stronger than I’d expected from such thin, delicate looking fingers.  “What’s wrong with your wrist?” She asked, noticing the splint on my left hand.

“I broke my hand.” 

Marda gave me a long, flat look, but I offered no further explanation.  “May I take a look at it?”   She motioned for me to sit at the table.  “I might be able to find something to speed its healing.”

I didn’t really want her prodding my hand but she seemed insistent and it wasn’t worth putting up a fuss. 

“Zita, would you get me some fresh bandages from upstairs?  You know where they are.”

Zita nodded, climbing the stairs with a cat-like agility.

“How did you break it?” Marda asked me softly, once Zita was out of sight.  

Had she gotten rid of her friend on purpose so that she could question me further?  I found myself answering, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to.  “Trenwyn had me ride an elk to escape from…” I faltered.  “I broke my hand when I fell off.”

Marda prodded my hand with able fingers.  “Someone set the bone for you, didn’t they? This was a complicated break.  Did Trenwyn do this?”

I shook my head, reaching for the medallion once more but then stopping myself.  It had been enough of a clue, though, and Marda caught sight of the leather string around my neck.  Slowly, she reached forward and pulled the leather, revealing the medallion.

“I’ve only seen something like this twice before.  Both times it has been worn by a maj.  Is the man who bears the connecting ring the one who set the bone?  It is a man isn’t it?”  Marda was piercingly perceptive.    

I swallowed, nodding.

At this moment, we both heard Zita returning and I quickly tucked the medallion back into my blouse.