Free Open by Ashley Fox

first moved in. She
didn ’ t know why. She had
never even sewn, and certainly didn ’ t plan on taking up weaving. She had Tansy get some
servants to take it away, but not only had she done that, she had
managed to dig up a dusty and rather bizarre table. It had been
circular, a circle within a circle, the inner circle much lower
that the outer, connected by lots of little round, square and
triangular shelves. It ’ s
legs had been odd, and in the process of cleaning it they had
discovered that it separated into two semi circles. Neither girl,
nor any other servant who helped carry it, knew what it was for it
had been so long buried.
    Now it sat
with each semicircle curving to the light of the window. Mera
already had some cuttings and bulbs growing in pots set on them.
The two tier was perfect for allowing the best amount of light for
the most plants. She had brought six long lengths of ribbon, all in
different colours as a thank you. She was getting an allowance now,
and she knew Tansy would love them. What she
hadn ’ t expected was for
Tansy to burst into tears.
    Other doors led to a large bedroom for her,
complete with fainting couch and beauty desk. Everywhere was open
spaces and light. Her room was done in soothing green, the night
sky painted on the ceiling. The parlour marble, the walls
punctuated by frescoed trees, the upper branches supporting the
ceiling which in turn was painted like a spring sky, complete with
fluffy clouds. Polished wooden floors, the seating area softly
carpeted. It was beautiful, but a little overwhelming.
    Mera sniffed
the air, drawn to the table on which lay a tray of covered dishes.
Her belly gave a loud growl reminding her that she
hadn ’ t eaten yet. Smiling,
she thought Tansy knew her well. She pulled out a chair and sat,
not bothering to wash her hands. It was only a bit of earth beneath
her nails. She uncovered each dish to find a herbal salad with
dressing, a cooling soup thick with onion and carrot and lamb and
spices. Her mouth started to water, there was a roll still holding
warmth from the oven and freshly churned butter. She uncovered the
last bowl finding apples poached in liqueur with honey and cinnamon
and a bowl of clotted cream. She covered the last back up,
buttering her roll then ripping pieces off into the
soup.
    Mera thought on her time with Cerid as she
ate; she had awoken one morning and found frost laying like an icy
haze over everything, and had gone back to the rowan copse as soon
as she was able to slip away. Cerid had been awaiting her, sitting
still against a bowl of a tree, with her large brownish black cloak
and white hair she had been almost unnoticeable until she moved.
Since then they had met many times, on occasion Mera had been
unable to make it but the crone was never disgruntled or
surprised.
    Cerid began by walking with her, naming the
plants that flourished in winter and their properties, questioning
Mera to find the extent of her knowledge. That first night Mera had
sought to write down all she had learned. The next time they met
she had brought writing tools, and bound paper. She had studiously
written everything the crone said. Until the crone rather sharply
told her to stop scribbling and pay attention, Mera needed to
listen and to question if she was to learn. After a few more
meetings they had come to the comfortable pattern of spending some
time for Mera to ask questions of the last lesson, correcting her
notes. Then she would put them aside and the crone would teach her
some more lore, then they would usually walk once more. Perhaps
finding a plant or fungi and going through its structure and
properties in detail; what it could be used for, which parts could
be used, when and how to gather it, what it was beneficial to mix
it with, what could counteract it, what never to put it with. Not
everything the crone taught her was beneficial, there were many
poisons to be learnt too. When Mera questioned why Cerid was
teaching her this when she