Of Course, Peaceseeker, of Course

“Of course, Peaceseeker, of course. You and your daughter hurry in now,” the woman swept her arm from the man and his girl to the doorway of her house.

“I don’t want to impose,” the corners of the man’s weak blue eyes crinkled. His long fingers fumbled along the inner seam of his patchwork coat, searching a dozen hidden pockets. He withdrew his hand revealing empty fingers. His face turned red, “I’m sorry, I… perhaps I can repay you sometime in the future?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it Peaceseeker! Your daughter will waste away if she spends another night outside in the cold. Look at her!”

The woman knew she was exaggerating, but not by much. The little girl’s ragged clothes hung loose about her thin frame. Her cheeks—brown and weathered by the sun—were drawn tight about her face. Though her gaze was steady, her dark eyes did not focus on the two adults. She stared beyond them, at some distant point the woman couldn’t see.

“We’ve been on the road for a few weeks, but I’ve done right by her. I know a bit about living in the country,” the man ran his hand through his thin blond hair and his lips jerked into a small smile, so quick she didn’t quite see it, but slow enough to know it had been there, “We make do.”

“There is more to living than ‘making do’! Come in Peaceseeker, we’ll get some stew into you and your little maiden child.”

“I can work for your lodging. At least give that to me. A man’s got his pride. My legs are strong, and my hands know the shape and feel of every axe, pick, and shovel from here to the South Sea.”

The woman smiled and shook her head, “Very well. You can do my wood chopping. I won’t say no to a chance to rest my arms. Now do hurry in Peaceseeker, the light’s fading, and I’m not liking the shape of those clouds.”

The man took the girl’s hand in his own, “Come on Î.”

“I?” said the woman.

“Yes, my daughter’s name.”

A frown flitted across the woman’s face, but did not land, “That’s an old fashioned sort of name, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is. My wife said the old names were the best, for none are truer. And I thought, ‘if the names are to be true, what’s a truer name than ‘Î?’”

The woman thought the name to be a bit cruel, but at that moment the sun disappeared behind the mountains. Sundown brought with it a last breath of winter. The Peaceseeker’s many-coloured coat flapped about him and his daughter’s tunic billowed wildly. Whatever words the woman was about to say were forgotten. She gestured again to the door, and smiled when the pair shuffled through. Moments later the last of the sun’s light faded from the sky. The woman secured the latch as a new gust rose, blocking out the sound of the promising storm and the sharp smell of winter. New sounds and smells took their place. The crack of coals in the hearth. The rattling of a pot lid. Split peas and venison. Under the warm light of a lantern she searched her cupboard, procuring an iron ladle and three wooden bowls.

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“I always make enough for travelers in case one happens by. Occurs more than you’d think Peaceseeker,” she began doling out thick grey stew into her bowls.

Another quick smile jerked the man’s lips sideways, but this one was smaller and more painful; a brief flash of regret on his weathered face, “Please, call me Lanet. That is who I am. Nothing more.”

“It’s about time you introduced yourself,” she winked, “I am Asar, pleasure to have you and Î in my home.”

Asar smiled as she said Î’s name, “Funny name, isn’t it?”

“I’d change it if I could, but it’s all Î has of her mother. She died soon after Î was born.”

“Died in childbirth? Poor dear.”

“No, not childbirth. I’d rather not talk about it. Some things are too painful,” the man’s weak blue eyes become a shade lighter until he blinked away the recollection.

Asar had a thought as she was handing out the bowls, “Your daughter has such pretty long hair. I know a dress that’ll fit it perfectly.”

She saw Lanet was about to protest and silenced him, “No, no, my husband’s a tailor; we have plenty spare clothing. Anyway, hardly anyone’ll buy this dress. My husband painted the whole thing with those carvings from the old times. He said it would make it last longer. Looks to me like it just stained the dress. Still, sort of mesmerizing, and it’d be a shame to see good velvet go to waste. I’ll nip down to the bedroom and get it.”

Asar ran to her closet so Lanet wouldn’t have time to think of any further protests. It was a simple matter to convince Î to remove her tattered tunic. Asar had always been good with girls, maiden children in particular. With a practiced tug, she pulled the dress over the girl’s head. Asar leaned back with her hands on Î’s shoulders to look at her. The dress had been red at one point. Not vibrant like a cardinal, or pure like ochre, but dark and mercurial like blood. Scrawled across it were enough ultramarine runes to colour the ocean. The long loops and swirls left the dress nearly as blue as it was red.

“‘Fit for a queen,’ husband said.” Asar pinched the dress. It was good quality even if it looked strange.

Î ran her hands over the smooth fabric and then looked at Asar for the first time, dark eyes sparkling.

“It’s a little long isn’t it?” Lanet said worriedly, looking at how the dress bunched on the ground around Î’s feet.

Asar patted Lanet on the shoulder, “I’ll hem it for you. You won’t have to worry about her growing out of it. Velvet doesn’t last long anyway.”

Her husband would scold her for that. Velvet wasn’t made to be worn in everyday activities, but she had to get the dress out of the house somehow.

Lanet relaxed and grinned down at his daughter, this time without the customary jerking motion, “Do you like it Î?”

It warmed Asar’s heart to see Î smile.

“She doesn’t talk much does she?” asked Asar as she marked the length with pins.

“She’s shy is all,” Lanet ruffled her hair. “Doesn’t know many people, doesn’t have any friends,” his eyes darkened, “life of travel’ll do that to you. I wish I could give Î the raising she deserves.”

It took Asar a moment to figure out who Lanet was talking about, “Do you ever grow used to that?”

Lanet picked up Î, who had just let out a yawn, “It takes time. Truth be told, with just me and Î on the road, we don’t have much cause to say her name. Known her nine years now and still not completely used to it,” again sadness took his features, “I don’t think I ever will be.”

“Now Lanet, I’ve known a lot of young men like you. You won’t be peaceseeking forever. Peace comes in time, often without you noticing. I bet it’s just around the corner”

Lanet’s curt nod was all Asar needed to see his journey was far from done.