Songs and Spun Gold (The Roumaterra Chronicles #2)

CHAPTER 1

Katy

K aty puffed out another breath as she climbed the final hill before Flussendorf. Gripping the straps of her pack, she bent forward and tried to move a little faster. The grass was slick with dew, and the numerous rocks were little better. Her foot slipped, causing her to stumble, but she soon regained her footing and trudged on, shifting the pack as she went.

“Who knew wool could weigh so much?” she grumbled under her breath.

She did, of course. She’d only been doing this every spring for the last five years.

“Don’t know why you’re complaining,” Louise gasped from behind her. “You’re always carrying flour. Can’t be much worse, surely.”

Katy shook her head. “I don’t carry the sacks uphill.” Glancing back, she paused to let her friend catch up. “You could always tell Babette no.”

“Can’t,” Louise panted. Her pale blonde hair, braided into a coil around her head, was starting to glisten with sweat. “She’s my cousin. Needs my help.”

Grinning, Katy continued her trek up the hill as her friend staggered up to her. A lock of curly, dark brown hair escaped her braid and fell in front of her eyes. Sparing a hand to tuck it behind her ear, she buried the other one in the rough wool of her drab skirt, hiking it up as she stepped up onto a rock in her path.

“Ah, the joys of family at shearing time,” she laughed. Louise shot her a glare but saved her breath for hiking. She wasn’t the only resident of their village hauling wool from a relative’s sheep.

Finally, Katy crested the hill. Stretched out below her was her village, the thatched roofs contrasting with the grey stone of the houses. A few had thin smoke curling from their chimneys, either for cooking or for a little extra heat on this cool April morning.

“Yes!” Louise exclaimed breathlessly as she dropped her hands to lean heavily on her knees. “A break!”

“Enjoy it while you can,” Katy told her. “We’ll be heading back for the next load soon.”

Louise groaned. “Babette lives on the wrong side of town. If you’re spinning her wool again, can I drop this off at your house?”

“Hmm, that would be more efficient. That’s fine; my other customers will bring theirs later, so I’ll have room.” She allowed herself one last deep breath, then started walking down the hill. “Come on, Louise, time to go.”

Another groan was Louise’s only response. Shaking her head, Katy continued on her way without waiting for her friend to follow. She smiled at the sunlight reflecting off the Felsig River ahead of her. Like the village, it was filled with rocks. The bubbling of the water through its obstructions was beautiful, and Katy loved to watch it when she had the time.

By the time she reached the main street of the village, Louise had caught up. There were a few other people about, but most of the few businesses were closed. Shearing was a busy time in Flussendorf.

“Hello, Fritz!” Louise called in a coy voice. Turning, Katy saw a tall, wiry, young man on the other side of the road. He looked over at Louise’s greeting, smiling when he saw them.

“Good morning, Louise,” he replied as he joined them. “Hello, Katy,” he said, smiling at her.

Katy gave him a return smile. “Good morning, Fritz. Where are you off to?”

“My mother asked me to see if the baker is working today. Can I carry that wool for you, Katy?”

His voice was eager, but she shook her head. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but I’ll be fine.”

“You can carry mine, Fritz,” Louise said, batting her eyelashes and leaning closer to him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, still focused on Katy. “It looks heavy.”

“It is ,” Louise assured him, adding a pathetic tone to her voice as she looked up at him hopefully.

Katy smothered a grin. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated. She gestured to her friend. “But I think Louise would appreciate a break.”

“Hmm?” His blue eyes jumped to the other girl. “Oh, right. Can I help you with that, Louise?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said pitifully as she shrugged out of the straps. Fritz grabbed the pack in one hand and slung it over his shoulder. “You’re so strong.”

“Heading to the mill?” he asked, his attention returning to Katy.

“We are,” she replied. Beside her, Louise rolled her shoulders while casting admiring glances at their companion.

The low rumble of the rapids greeted Katy’s ears as she walked down a side street. Up ahead, her family’s mill, a two-story stone building, sat right next to the river, its wooden waterwheel creaking as it turned under the river’s influence. Two tiny windows with glass panes – a relic of her grandparents’ days – stood on either side of the wooden front door.

Fritz lengthened his stride so that he reached it first. He opened the door, then stood to the side so Katy and Louise could pass through in front of him.

“It had better not smell.” Katy’s middle sister greeted them with a scowl as they walked into the small customer area. The door fell quietly into place as Fritz pulled it closed behind them.

“Hello to you, too, Adele,” Katy said with a bright smile.

Adele flung her long, dark brown braid over her shoulder and slammed her pen on the wooden counter. “I will not have disgusting, smelly—”

“We wash the sheep first so the yarn won’t smell. We’ve done this for the last five years,” Katy sighed. Beside her, Louise made a face but said nothing. “Honestly, Adele, why do you still act like this? Besides, where I take my wool in my home is my business, not yours.”

“It’s not your wool,” Adele scoffed. Her pretty, brown eyes narrowed. “It’s our wool.”

Pressing a hand to her heart, Katy widened her own brown eyes in mock surprise. “You’re willing to claim it now? Oh, Adele, I’m so proud.”

Her sister crossed her arms. “You know what I mean. Are you going to stand there blocking the door all day?”

“No, we’ll leave you to wait for customers,” Katy said wearily. Motioning to her friends, she crossed to the blanket that hung between the front room and the milling area. “Come on, the wool goes upstairs.”

They followed her silently across the wood planks, through the tall room in back – quiet since her father wasn’t up yet – and up the steep, narrow staircase in the back corner. She pulled another hanging blanket to the side when she reached the top and held it while her friends passed by.

“Katy. You’re back.” Her mother lifted her head from where she sat in her ancient rocking chair. “Oh. You…brought friends.” She moved her hands to the armrests and leaned forward slightly as if she intended to stand.

“It’s fine, Mother,” Katy said, dropping her burden and rushing across the small room to push her back down. Not that she’d made it very far. With a weary sigh, her mother settled against the backrest. “We’re only dropping off a load of wool.”

Fritz set his pack on the floor. “Don’t mind me, Miss Sabine,” he said politely. “How are you today?”

“As well as…can be expected,” she replied with a tired smile. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “I hope you feel better soon. I’m afraid I must be on my way. Farewell, Miss Sabine, Louise.” Shifting his gaze to Katy, he smiled, his blue eyes soft. “See you later, Katy.”

“Of course. Thank you, Fritz,” she said, sparing him a glance from her examination of her mother’s glassy brown eyes. “Bye.”

As soon as his footsteps faded down the stairs, Louise let out a dreamy sigh. “He’s so sweet.” Then turning toward Katy, she hissed, “Why didn’t you invite him to stay? He’s never going to ask you to walk with him if you don’t give him some encouragement.”

“What?” Katy asked, distracted. She ran her hand over her mother’s olive skin, worrying over its clamminess.

“Fritz,” her friend said. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that he only had eyes for you this morning. Or are you too busy pining over that noble still?”

The words cut through her abstraction as a familiar twinge in her chest sought to pull her mouth down in a frown. She fought it, closing her eyes briefly as she forced the corners of her mouth back up. A pair of warm brown eyes and a laughing smile taunted her as they danced around the edge of her memory. The whisper of a baritone voice chased after them, the words just out of her grasp.

“Noble?” her mother repeated weakly. “Is…he back?”

“Of course not,” Louise snorted before Katy could reply. “Five years and not a word, not even to Katy, and you think we would welcome him back to Flussendorf?”

Fair Katrin , the baritone voice laughed faintly. …count the days.

“No. But Katy…needs to find someone.” She lightly patted Katy’s hand where it still rested on her arm. “Can’t if…waiting for him.”

“I’m not, Mother,” Katy said softly. When she caught herself fingering the river stones on her right wrist, she fisted her hand and drew it back slowly, hoping to avoid notice. “I know he’s not coming back.”

A hand slammed against the wall. Jerking her head up, she saw her father leaning against the doorframe of her parents’ bedroom, the curtain that served as a door draped across his shoulders. “Of course, he isn’t,” he growled in his rumbling baritone, nothing like the smooth youthful one still brushing against her thoughts. His graying straw-colored hair hung loose around his face as he scowled at them. “Fancy folk like him have no use for folk like us. No matter what pretty things he may say.”

“He never made any promises.” Katy pinched her lips together, wishing her father could have waited to roll out of bed until after she and Louise had left. Everyone in town knew he’d been at the tavern again last night, but that didn’t mean he needed to appear in front of her friend in his dingy tunic with its dangling strings. He hadn’t even bothered to pull on his boots yet.

“Didn’t he? Maybe he didn’t, but you wanted him to,” her father accused, glaring at her wrist. He pushed off the doorframe and swayed slightly before setting off toward the sturdy wooden table that doubled as a counter for food preparation. Settling himself on one of the long benches next to it, he rubbed his forehead with a grimace. “Where’s the water?”

“In the bucket next to the fireplace. Like always,” Katy retorted.

“Don’t you get snippy with me, young lady!”

Katy’s mother tried to sit up. “Josef,” she reprimanded in her soft voice.

“It’s all right, Mother,” Katy said hotly. She glared at her father. “Somehow, the day would be incomplete without him ordering me around.”

“I think I’ll wait downstairs with Adele,” Louise cut in. She backed toward the doorway to the stairs. “I’ll see you when you’re finished with the wool, Katy.”

Katy’s anger drained out as she watched her friend flee. Sighing, she crossed to the cupboard, pulled out a cup, and filled it with the ladle from the bucket. “Here, Father. I’m sorry,” she said quietly as she set it in front of him. Then she emptied her pack, after which she emptied Louise’s pack, too, making a note in her record book of how much there was.

“Katy,” her father said as she lifted the entry blanket. She turned, one foot on the stairs. He lifted his green eyes to meet hers. “I’m sorry, too. You know we’d be lost without you, don’t you?”

She gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Father.” Then she continued down the stairs to fetch her friend for the next load of wool.