Free Silver May Tarnish by Andre Norton

bring?”
    â€œWhatever of yours you wish to have in the cottage,
child. Go now and tell your father. He may wish you to spend another night or two.”
    My father did. I found that was because he and my mother wished to have a special dinner for me. I was set at the head of the table, a toast was drunk to me, and my favorite foods were laid before us. I would be sad to leave my family, but my younger sisters Jenna and Saria were delighted. They would have more room now. My older brother, Welwyn, pretended to be pleased, too. There would be fewer sisters to plague him, he growled. But it was he who pressed a last gift into my hands when he and my father left me with Ithia.
    I opened the small parcel and gaped. Ithia studied the gift. “So, your brother has a talent of his own.” I could only turn my gift over admiringly and agree with that. From somewhere Welwyn had found a root. I know not how much like to its ending its first shape may have been, but now it was a queen of the winged-ones. Every line was perfect and in her head were set tiny black gems as eyes.
    So fine was it that almost I expected her to fly free and join the hives. She perched on a small stump of another wood which spread at the base to stand firm. It was a marvelous piece of work and I would treasure it. I carried it inside to place on the shelf my father had nailed beside my bed. There was just room beside my candlestick. Ithia was brisk.
    â€œIt is a wonderful gift, but now we have work to do.” Before I could start remembering that I was apart from my family, she swept me into such a frenzy of cleaning and polishing that I went to bed and slept dreamlessly in exhaustion. After that the pattern of my days set slowly. I was happy, and it seemed that Ithia was well pleased with my work for I did indeed learn eagerly.
    That year she left for the place of the Old Ones to give thanks. Although I pleaded to come with her I would be remaining behind, but to soothe my disappointment, Ithia
made me a map showing the path. I knew the first portion, it led to the furthest bee-pastures where we sometimes shifted the hives at High Summer. In certain years rare flowers grew there which produced honey that had abilities other than food and ordinary healing.
    The honey from those years Ithia would distill to an essence which was a reviving cordial. There was so little it was never sold, but kept instead for our own people. It saved more than one, but from prudence none spoke of it. Should such a cordial become widely known Honeycoombe could be a target for greedy men, and of those there were always more than enough since the land was no longer at peace. We knew there had been war in the land, but our home was overlooked since it was small and lay hidden deep in the vast sweep of the uplands.
    We lay to the South of the older, more populous dales; South and West with only the final hills between us and the great Waste. A narrow trail swept out in a loop to pass the gates of ourselves and Merrowdale. Yet, while few passed and fewer stopped, we were content. Ithia’s small stone house stood at the far end of the village. The road from Merrowdale ran along the slope above. On it one day, as Spring was almost upon us, I saw people walking.
    I peered about for Ithia. I did not like what I saw and she was my refuge, the answerer of my questions. I was too late. She was already striding towards the road and those who came limping along it. I followed. By the time I reached her others of the village were there and gossip ran in a buzz of whispering like the hum of angry bees. Well might there be anger. Those who came were the tattered remnants of Merrowdale, fallen not to the invaders but to a large band of our own. Once some lord’s soldiers, now they were half-mad and masterless men. Of prosperous Merrowdale only the dozen or so who stood before us had escaped. I saw the Lord Lanson himself listening in silence at the edge of the crowd.

    A tall