HOW IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN
"Only three eggs left." She wiped her hands on her apron front, in gesture that was automatic and nervous.
"Bets, Bets!"
"Here, Mama." The girl who appeared at her elbow was glowing from the heat of the open oven, disheveled and excited in equal measure.
"Here, take this 5 – no take 10. Run down to the corner. Get another 10 eggs.
"But I was watching---"
"Maker's ears! Just shut the gate. Tell Amma to watch the littler ones. We need those eggs yolks glaze the pie tops. I have not gone to four days trouble and expense to have it all come apart now. What are you waiting on? Run—go!"
The woman checked the pies again. Five of them. Apple, mince, and custard. A woman might choose one over another at table. Good to have a choice. A man, of course, might well say "I'll have a little of each." Her own Merwin had been accustomed to say that. He had loved his food. Before. Well, before was before the fever took him, and left her with 6 kids. So much for the past. Pies to bake today, work to do, still, before Midsummer noon.
She peeked out the kitchen door. Dellen was turning the goat, on a spit over the fire-pit. Every few turns he basted the meat with herb oil. He was only ten, but big for his age, and careful. He was safe enough, but still she felt the need to check. Children. How many you bore was up to the Maker, but how many you raised up safe and whole was down to your own vigilance.
Dellen was safe, yes, but he was smudged with soot, and his feet were black with dirt. He also seemed to have been wiping off his greasy hands in his hair. Well, she had not told him not to do that. He would need a wash before everyone arrived. They all would. And here was Bets with the eggs.
"Good girl. Now go quick to the well, lets get some water heating. We need all need a wash. Maker knows I smell like a goats arse. Get some clean pinafore's out for Jennet and Amma. See if the baby needs a change. I need to get a cloth on that table..." But she was talking to herself. Bet's had run off to the well.
She shifted her hands to her aching back. Midsummer came but once a year. Good thing, she thought wryly. Every year it came around sooner, and every year it was more work.
Some people said Summerday was for kids, and that the gifts, and garlands and songs were not the stuff of real life. Her own mother had died, and Merwyn had died. That was real life; Her back aching, and babies hungry again, and Bets in a dress suddenly too short, and all that. But. But... it was also garlands and singing, and getting a Maypole set in the in the tiny back yard, and the shining table set with cheeses, and now the pies coming hot and perfect from the oven. And it was Bets with her eyes glowing as she danced on her toes.
It was a crazy world, where a long lost brother could appear out of nowhere, with a wife of his own, and an insatiable desire for cheese.
"Do you Auntie will let me hold her baby, mama?"
"Well, I don't know Bets. But if she doesn't offer, don't press. She is new to it all herself, and likely to be nervous."
"Yes, mama."
Then it was all a final rush and hurry, swiping a soapy cloth under her arms, and over her face. The house smelled of food. The children were ready, and she was slithering a clean dress down over her own head.
"They're here! They're here. I see them! Wynne, and Zevran, and Oghren, and Auntie Elissa, and Uncle Alistair!" Dellon's voice squeaked with excitement.
"Uncle Alistair, do you want to see my dragon figures?
"Sure, Dellon. And I brought you a new one, but wait a minute first, ok?"
"Ok."
"There is someone I want you all to meet first."
Alistair drew Elissa forward with an arm around her, and an expression that was shy, and proud, and possessive all at once.
"Aunt Elissa – you're not fat any more!" Jennet announced loudly. Elissa gave a gentle smile. "That's right Jennet. Here's why. This is your new cousin."
Alistair spoke then, in a voice that was broken and new with awe. "I am so lucky." He said, "All these years, and now I have a wife, a sister, a – a daughter..."
He pulled the blanket back, to reveal a tiny head, and a snub nose. A little being. Crumpled, red, perfect ordinary.
"We've named her after you, sister. We've named her Goldanna."
The dream splintered. It had seemed so real. Alistair clung to it desperately. It was so vivid. He wanted it so. Waking hurt. Another day was already paling the sky, another day of swords, armor, darkspawn.
How foolish to ache for something you'd never have. Elissa came toward him.
"You don't have watch tonight. You can sleep a little more – " She got close enough to see his face.
"Oh. Bad dream? Archdemon?"
"Archdemon?" He repeated. She could take that for aquieceince if she chose.
"I'm so sorry Alistair. When I get those I'm too afraid to sleep, and then I'm so tired all the next day."
"Me too."
"Well." Elissa seemed to be deciding something. "I'll sit with you for a bit. You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but I'll just hang out, and we can be tired tomorrow together." And that is what she did.