Free The Truth-Teller's Tale by Sharon Shinn

cold.”
    â€œHmmm. You’re right,” Roelynn said. “Well, I just won’t mention the feather to him at all. Or I’ll just tell him—that I found it in the woods. That I don’t know what it represents. I just thought it was pretty.”
    â€œMicah will know what it is,” Adele said. “Won’t he say something?”
    Roelynn made a small sound of exasperation. “Micah! You’re right. Well, then I’ll just—I know! I’ll bind it into your Wintermoon wreath, and then I’ll come down to the inn at midnight and be there when you throw it into the fire.”
    She often crept away from her house during her father’s festivities and came to join us at the Leaf & Berry, so this seemed like a fairly workable plan. Adele held out her hand, and Roelynn rather reluctantly laid the feather on her palm.
    â€œIt seems almost too pretty to burn,” Adele remarked. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
    Roelynn took it back. “I’m sure. I’m very glad I found it.”
    The wind swooped low through the trees, and I shivered where I stood. “I’m cold,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
    We made our way out of the forest, back to the road, and we found that Karro’s admirable groom had indeed built a fire while we were gone. He had also made us hot chocolate, which we gratefully drank, and warmed up a few bricks in the small bright flames. So we were almost warm and definitely happy as we headed back to town, our packs full of treasures and our minds full of Wintermoon dreams.

CHAPTER SIX
    Wintermoon is the time for old troubles to die and new hopes to rise. It is a time when the whole world sleeps under a still, white patina of frost till it wakes to the fresh dawn of spring. Wintermoon is the time to take stock, look forward, make plans, shrug off the past. It is my very favorite time of year.
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    The inn was always very crowded the few days before and after Wintermoon, as people stayed for the night while journeying to and from the homes of their loved ones. But the day of Wintermoon itself, there was hardly ever anyone staying with us. Everyone wanted to be with their families. This was not a holiday you would choose to spend with strangers.
    Even so, there were sometimes one or two travelers staying overnight at Wintermoon—usually people visiting Merendon friends whose houses were already overfull. Now and then there would be lonely old widowers or bony spinsters who had nowhere else to spend the holiday, and who checked in at the Leaf & Berry, pretending they were late for their own joyous gatherings. Once we had an entire family staying with us—father, mother, six children—unable to complete their journey because the mother had gone into early labor with her seventh child. The baby was born at midnight on Wintermoon, a most mystical time of year. The father carried the infant down to the bonfire and, with his other six children, tossed pinecones and holly berries into the flames. Plenty and joy. I thought the omens could not have been more propitious.
    This year, the Dream-Maker was our only guest, and a most welcome one she was. She had been invited to Karro’s dinner party, but I didn’t think she had come to Merendon specifically to attend it. She just liked to settle into some big town over the winter holidays so that large numbers of people could brush past her during the course of the day and have some hope that their dreams might come true in the following year. It was easier to believe in magic on Wintermoon; it was easier to think that your secret desires might finally be fulfilled sometime in the coming months.
    â€œWell, Hannah, any particular dreams in your life these days?” Melinda greeted our mother as she always did.
    Our mother, as always, shook her head. “I’ve got everything I could ever wish for.”
    Melinda glanced at Adele, who was