Off-Grid
Visalee
It was warm, and the sun riding high in the sky. The News Tree announced Tekelia’s arrival loudly, which waked a chorus of shouts, stamps, and whistles from nearby.
Looking over the square, Tekelia saw tables and hover-wagons; the warm wind bore the scent of baked goods and roasting vegetables, as well as the sound of a mandola and tintringo being played with…enthusiasm.
Tekelia pushed away from the tree as a slender figure alighted on the grass, holding a tall mug between her palms, a bag slung over one shoulder.
“Hello, Blays.”
“Tekelia,” she answered. “Have some good Wildege cider.”
The mug wafted forward, and Tekelia caught it with a smile.
“With great pleasure.”
“You don’t half look rugged,” Blays observed, as Tekelia took a long swallow.
Tekelia sighed.
“I started early.”
“You started far,” Blays corrected, and pointed a finger. “Are you still for going back tonight?”
“Have to, we’ve a meeting with the Warden of Civilization tomorrow morning at Peck’s Market.”
Blays tipped her head, hair swirling around her face.
“As quick as that?”
“I explained that the timeline was short, and the Warden was able to make an accommodation,” Tekelia said, finishing the cider. “It would be rude to disappoint him.”
“I suppose.” Blays touched the bag. “I’ve got food. Are you eating here, or should I take you to the way-lodge?”
“The way-lodge, if you please.”
“This way, then.”
Blays turned, waving Tekelia to follow her as she skimmed over the grass, her hair eddying like storm clouds. From somewhere in the crowd a timpani began to thrum as people shouted and clapped.
“What’s the reason for the party?” Tekelia asked.
“Besides being Haosa?” Blays threw a look over one shoulder. “It’s Midsummer Market. First day, and we’ve already got six wagons in from Wildege, which is something worth dancing for.”
“It is,” Tekelia agreed, glancing speculatively at the crowds and the line of wagons piled with produce and goods.
“No,” Blays said sternly, “you won’t go down just for a moment to chat. I’ll do the needful, like I was planning to do, while you, Cousin, will enter the way-lodge—” She pointed ahead of them, where a low hut sat peacefully beneath the flowering branches of a tree. “You’ll eat, and you’ll sleep until this evening. When you wake up, you’ll eat again.”
Tekelia grinned. “Thank you for your care of me, Cousin.”
“Say rather my care of me,” Blays said, with a droll look. “I have an interest in the trip to Ribbon Dance being flawless and smooth.”
She descended to the grass once more, pushed open the lodge’s door, and stood back so Tekelia could go inside.
“As it happens, I have a similar interest,” Tekelia said, taking the bag she offered. “Until this evening.”
“Sleep well,” Blays said.