That night Fia slept deeper than she ever had. The long journey had been arduous, but the high mountain air was fresher and seemed to take more out of a person than usual. And although a new house and a new bed can disturb some people, the sturdy build and thick walls of Olayin House muffled the sounds of the outer world so deeply that you felt you were tucked safely away where nothing could reach you, like a bear cub in a cave for the winter.

 Arethmay stepped in and woke Fia on her way to the kitchen the next morning, and that soon became their morning routine. The lady from Othira was a motherly heart, and it seemed that she enjoyed having another chick to take under her wing, if only for a time.

 So Fia quickly settled into the life of Olayin House. They breakfasted in style and then she and Arethmay would clear the table and do the dishes, leaving Calima and Larna free to see to their combined housekeeping schedules. Andro and Ilido would promptly disappear as soon as Calima got up from the table, and Fia never knew all the many chores that they did. She knew that there were a good number of animals that depended on them out in the barnyard, and that the firewood boxes of Olayin House were always full, it seemed.

After her morning duties were accomplished she would run up the heavy halved-log stairs to the workroom where Calima worked her craft, to the little table by the side window where she was teaching Fia. Studying in the bright winter mornings became an enthralling practice… Fia was challenged more thoroughly than she had ever been before, and never enjoyed anything so immensely. The skills she saw in the glittering pieces on Calima’s “finished” table took her breath away, and she longed for the day that they might be hers to command. The beauty created from the shining gems, winking silver, and gleaming gold lit her imagination with unquenchable fire.

Calima quickly assessed the rudimentary knowledge her apprentice had gained so far from her work with Raylor and introduced her to successively harder techniques. Someday Fia would be able to assist with the simpler parts of Olayin work, but for now her beginning attempts were not worthy of being cast in precious metal. Or any other kind of metal… for that matter.

Even though she had times of bitter frustration, a few minutes spent peering closely at the jewelry Calima had finished were usually enough to renew her enthusiasm, and as soon as Calima reached a pausing place in her own work, she would come over to the apprentice table and help her pupil through whatever sticky situation she had gotten herself into.

“Here, like this.” Calima lifted one of the wax maple leaves off the candlestick base Fia was practicing embellishing.

“Lighter… more airy.” She tilted the leaf at an angle.

“Leave more space between them.” She set it in again, delicately placed in just the right way.

“There, you see?”

And Fia did.

She felt she must have melted down her wax more often than she ate breakfast. But that is the beauty of wax… it always turns out fresh again with every new pour.

Evenings were spent gathered around the great fireplace in the kitchen. In the light of the flames Fia quickly grew fond of all the house’s inhabitants… Larna and Calima swapping stories of their younger years… sometimes Arethmay would sing; songs of long ago or lost love, her graceful voice hauntingly beautiful. Fia would stop her sewing and listen, spellbound, by the sorrow and hope mixed in the lilting tones.

Andro often tutored Ilido in the evenings, and they would all listen to the young fellow read aloud from one of the many old books in the library. Andro was a careful teacher, and his pupil an apt and eager learner, making listening in on their sessions a delight to Fia. Her own knowledge of book learning was heightened by the lessons Andro taught from his wide array of tomes, and mixed with his own sharp observations, made from experience and gleaned from earlier generations.

The history lessons were of special interest to her, as Andro had an in-depth knowledge on almost everything concerning the kingdoms outside of Lorsia. For though Fia’s tutors at home had covered the basics, there was so much more to know. And to Fia, it was fun to know things even if she never ended up using them.

They pored over maps of the kingdoms round about… memorizing the boundaries of Lorsia, neighboring Othira… and Erlandia, to Othira’s north.

For being away from her family for the first time in her life she thought she was doing pretty well, caught up in the excitement and the newness of everything.

Then a storm blew in and the thunder rolled and crashed along the mountainsides late into the night. The rain came down in torrents against her bedroom window and she felt a sad lump in her chest as she hurried into her nightgown and pulled the covers up under her chin. She realized that it had been two weeks since she had left the palace, lying like a gem beside the lowland river far below and far away. Her family would probably be leaving soon now, she thought, or might already be making the journey home. They might this night be stopped at some wayside inn, and with this storm Eilma had probably crawled in with Mother. She thought of them during the day, all cheerfully chattering in the carriage as it rolled along the roads, and ached that she wasn’t there to hear, to contribute, to feel the wholeness of them. All the things they had seen, and the memories they would now be discussing for weeks, she was not a part of. And never would be. They could never tell it to her well enough to make it seem as if she was there; it would always be missing from their mutual history.

She discovered that she loved her own warm place amongst her family more than she ever could care for any wonderful opportunity, no matter how glorious. She would gratefully trade all the fame and fortune of the great jeweler she might possibly become for an unbroken ribbon that bound her to her mother, sisters, her family. Her heart squeezed in distress, and she thought hatefully of the night she had let Jithra talk her into going to see that fountain. If only she had gone to bed instead, and seen the useless thing in the morning, she would not be so far away, without hope of any soon reunion.

Why her, anyway? Why hadn’t Jithra gotten into the scrape; she was the one always wanting adventure. But she probably would have been too young to be conveniently apprenticed out, and besides, Fia would have been strong enough to climb the wall and lift her back over again… so the whole thing would never have happened.

This was exactly how Fia would have preferred it, truthfully.

She turned over to stop the lonely tears by stuffing her eyes into the softness of the pillow. In her mind she felt around for something to cheer herself up, but all the reasons were hollow. Her fancy apprenticeship was nothing compared to the place in her heart that her family would always hold. Maybe Jithra could have spun something exciting out of it… but she wasn’t here, and to Fia, far away in this mountain house, it and the people in it were strangers. She didn’t really want to be here, and she felt she knew that she never really had. She would have preferred to stay close to home and learn from Raylor… or even taken an apprenticeship in baking from her own good mother, than to pay the price of this high honor she now held.

The door creaked open and she lifted her head from the down pillow. Arethmay stood in the doorway, and in a flash of faraway lightning Fia could see that a few strands of dark hair curled from under her nightcap and fell across her forehead. Her eyes looked larger than usual in the darkness and her face had the look of every mother who ever checked on her children in a night filled with a mountain storm.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” Fia replied, carefully trying to keep the tears out of her voice. Perhaps she failed, or perhaps the mother’s heart knew something was wrong, but Arethmay came across the floor to put a gentle hand on her hair. Her fingers softly brushed Fia’s damp cheeks and in the darkness Fia could hear her smile.

“Move over a little,” she said.

Fia scooted, and Arethmay sat down beside her on the bed.

“Missing home?” she asked, patting the smaller shoulder.

Fia nodded wordlessly.

“Yes,” Arethmay whispered. Fia could hear in her tone a hint of her own leaving, and it hit her that Arethmay must know all about that part, too. “It’s always hardest at first,” she said, then bent over to hug the brown head. “It’s okay to cry.”

“It’s just that I…” Fia stumbled and just like that she was bawling, her shoulders shaking and her breath coming in gasps.  Arethmay hugged her closer and rocked a little back and forth, almost exactly like her own mother used to.

“All the things they’re doing and saying… I’m missing out on every part of their lives.  I miss them.”

“I know…” she hushed. “I know.”

The rain came down in a sudden rush and then lightened a little. She spoke softly into the darkness.

“That’s growing up for you. Things are never the same again, and that part always hurts, Fia. Don’t try to think it shouldn’t. Every time something changes, something hurts. It’s the natural way of things. But there are parts that are good about it, too. It is right to grieve for things you’ve lost, or given up. But remember even when it’s hard that it’s not all sad. Never forget there are good things about it, too.”

“Like what?” Fia asked, and ran a finger under her wet eyes.

“Oh, I can’t say what they might be for you, because everybody’s different. But you’ll grow stronger and more sure of yourself through this, I know. You’ll be better prepared to take on whatever life has in store for you.”

Fia sniffed and gulped. She didn’t feel better prepared.

The older woman brushed her hair with a hand. “I know it’s hard. Growing up never is very easy. But it is worth it.”

Then Fia could feel Arethmay’s smile with her cheek pressed against her forehead. “Tell me about your family.”

 “Well, there’s Mother and…” Fia didn’t get any further before she was crying again. With anybody else she would have been ashamed of herself, but Arethmay made her feel so comfortable that it seemed it was all right to cry on her shoulder.

By the time Fia had cried herself out, the storm had lessened. Arethmay smoothed the coverlet around the girl’s face and Fia caught her hand and squeezed it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The only reply was a kiss on her cheek. “Sleep well,” Arethmay said.

Then she left as softly as she had come.

And the night didn’t even have time to catch its breath before Fia was sound asleep, something that would have surprised her if she’d been able to notice.

There’s nothing like a good cry to tire you out.

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