Hello Everyone! Does it seem to you that the months go faster as we approach the end of the year? October has vanished, which means I’ve been too busy to notice it. We have had some odd weather for New England, but also some perfect fall days, which I am thankful for. The foliage colors have been vibrant and long-lasting, as long as there is no wind. But here we are on the week leading up to a full moon on a Halloween Saturday!
I wonder how many people still have that candy that appeared in the stores in July…
This is another audio only episode, a continuation of the last and lots of dialogue with not much to illustrate, so audio is the better format. I enjoy making the audio episodes, I hope you find them fun too. Enjoy your week, and Happy Halloween and Samhain. Trick or treat!~
The last audio episode had Elahna returning from a day in Cragbend to meet a Sentient horse, Arlen and become embroiled in a horse-horsemaster disagreement. Arlen won; no surprise, really, she knows her business.Elahna had returned to her room afterward to freshen up for dinner, so we will pick it up there….~
Click the orange arrow to play episode 16…
That was quite a dinner, right? The food in Huphaea was always incredible, it is one of the things I miss most. Do you think Elahna and Ivy will gel on the ride to Irillo, or will it be awkward? At least the horses seem to have things sorted out, thanks to Arlen. I never did find out how young Thorn made out, but I would wager his days got a whole lot more regimented. I have to say part of me wanted to stick around to see his mother, Larix, just because of how Daphne made her sound. But I had bigger things to tackle. It will be on toward Irillo next time!~
Quill & Orb Press, (the fiction part of my word services business), is open to do developmental edits, copyediting, and proofreading for YOU! Fantasy, paranormal, YA, historical fiction, steampunk, and other genres welcome.
“Collaboration cultivates drafts into bookish gold.” 🔮✨✏📚
-Quill & Orb Press
Are you an indie author? I’d love to work with you!
Line editing is on the way! Intermediate level classes start this week and I will be working on refining the special editing eye and ear line editing requires. This level of editing focuses on how an author’s sentences and words create their unique voice and the lyrical flow of the story. It is an intimate exploration that can take a manuscript to the next level. If you’d like more information about line editing or other editing services I offer, click here:
Remember to subscribe to Collata⚡, the Collection of Huphaea newsletter to get more from this land of amazing food and magic treehouses! This monthly newsletter has extras from Elahna’s story, stuff not seen in the episodes. Click the button and become a Nightingale today!
Hello Everyone! Welcome to October. Falling leaves, pumpkins and cornstalks, long sleeves, and Halloween candy are now everyday sights. Here is a photo of my nephew’s roadside stand here at our farm:
He grew the pumpkins himself, from field prep to harvest, with his own equipment—he’s thirteen. He’s done pretty well so far, weekends clean him out and he has to restock. Proud aunt here!
This episode will be audio only. I haven’t done audio since the very beginning, so it was time to brush off the mic and put it to use. This segment is also dialogue-heavy and I thought it may work better in audio form. I hope you enjoy it, I had fun reading it for you. Be well!
We left Elahna on the road back to Rosewood Manor from a day in Cragbend. She had just seen some color-changing frogs in the clutches of children under the bridge. This episode includes more animals, but before I give anymore away, hit the PLAY button below and give it a listen. Then let me know what you think!~
Click the orange arrow to play episode 15…
What did you think? How would you have reacted, and would you want to ride a Sentient horse? Arlen was magnificent. Honestly, every Sentient I met was, but the horses were extraordinary. How do you think Revel will do on his first real excursion? Let me know how the audio was, and if it worked well, especially with all of the dialogue. I’d love to hear from you!
Quill & Orb Press, (the fiction part of my word services business), is open to do developmental edits and copyediting for YOU! Fantasy, paranormal, YA, historical fiction, steampunk, and other genres welcome.
Are you an indie author? I’d love to work with you!
Line editing is coming! I am finishing courses as we speak and will be offering it later this fall. If you’d like more information about line editing, or the differences/distinctions between the three types of editing, head over to the website here:
Remember to subscribe toCollata ⚡, the Collection of Huphaea newsletter to get more from the land of Sentients and magic! This monthly newsletter has extras from Elahna’s story, stuff not seen in the episodes. You know you want to, click the button and become a Nightingale today!
Hello Everyone! Aime here, I wanted to start this post by saying Thank You to all of you for following my story. It means so much to have your support for this bit of creativity that flows out of my overactive brain. It is what keeps any writer going and putting out content on any given day. You are the best! Now, here’s Eleanorah…
Hey Everyone, nice to see you back! I hope autumn (or spring, as it may be) is treating you well. Here, it is painfully dry, we are in a moderate-to-severe drought and plants of all types are suffering. Thankfully, it is nearing leaf-drop anyway, so the colors New England is famous for are progressing, a bit more quickly than normal. Things change color overnight, and wow, the poison ivy is spectacular! Here are a few pics I took while walking Dash a mile down the hill from me:
sugar maples in color
I do love fall, though I fight to hold on to the summer sun, and this weekend should be perfect for that. I may have to start doing rain dances, a couple rainy days would be welcome. Landscaping is slowing down, so that means more time for writing and maybe a couple other ideas as well…. Anyway, let’s get back to Cragbend and Elahna, it’s much more fun there.~
We left Elahna after she had just purchased that sweet new rucksack. I miss that bag, I wish it had crossed back with me, but of course it couldn’t. What’s next in her day? Ready to find out? OK, let’s go!
Back out on the main road, I turned right, back toward the clock tower. A sign with a pink frosted cupcake caught my eye, and I remembered Aymur’s comment on peach tarts. I pushed open the bright blue door and entered the North Pole of sweet shops. It smelled of spun sugar, birthday cake, and chocolate. My mouth began to water like Pavlov’s dogs.
Sweetnic’s sign
“Elements be, aye fla, what sweetnics can I tempt you with?”
A thin man with wavy hair that resembled fudge in a bowl hailed me as I entered. His apron was stained with smears of icing and jelly in every color, and powdered sugar coated the backs of his fine-boned hands. I wondered how he could possibly be so slim working in a place like this all day, but then I noticed the huge sacks of flour and sugar, and barrels of fruit that lined the walls and tables of the bakery. If he mixed them all, he wouldn’t have time to eat! But wouldn’t there be magic at work here too?
“Elements be, Aymur Arborea told me I had to have a peach tart from Sweetnic’s before I left. Am I in the right place?” I smiled as I looked before me at the cooling pastries and cookies.
In the back of the shop, a young man stood waving his hands over a long table where a lengths of rainbow colored candy writhed and twirled in response. It was like watching bolts of cloth being drawn and cut into ribbons. When he had the lengths at a certain size, he spun his wrist around and the candy twirled into unicorn horns, or knots, or balloon-animal shapes. Then he stuck a cinnamon stick or a waxed cord into them. A small girl next to him plucked them out of the air and put them on racks to cool.
The man before me chuckled a little, drawing my attention back. “Why yes, you are! Aymur stops in for a peach tart every time he’s in town. Is that all you’d like?”
The tiny cakes and chocolate truffles winked at me, I swear, and the cookies flashed their dark, molten chips at me. But I resisted and replied, “Yes, thank you, but I will take two, if I may? Are you Rennay?”
“As you like, fla, yes, I be Rennay, crafter of all that is sweet. Who might you be?” He answered in a pleasant tone as he wrapped two flaky, pink sugar-coated tarts and handed me a thin, foil bag. The foil was warm as a baking sheet, but the warmth did not linger on my fingers after they left the bag.
“I’m Elahna. I’m a guest of Lady Daphne for a day or two. How long will this stay warm?”
“How long do you need it to? Certainly through tomorrow morning, if you can make them last that long. You can replenish at my kinsman’s shop in Sawyerset, though, so no need to draw out the delight.” Rennay winked at me, he knew just who I was.
“Thank you, ok, I will do that. Do you make all of this yourself?”
The selection of baked goods and poured candies was incredible. Most pieces looked to be individually crafted, but the amount of time that would take would be impossible. Rennay must have magic he uses.
“Yes, with my sontres and dautris, dua of whom are there,” he waved at the back of the shop, “and the tertiar is out on errands. I have other helpers when they are occupied at their matris’s or in Sawyerset.”
“So you have magic, too.” My statement wasn’t really supposed to be heard, but I guess I said it aloud.
“Oh yes, but not a lot, we aren’t Elementals, but for simple things like mixing and shaping, common talents that help us in our lives and trade. Like Toscan is doing there, spinning candy.”
“I see. Everything is so beautiful. I would hesitate to eat it because it looks like art or toys.” I saw a slight frown quirk his lips, and I hastily continued, “But I’m sure I would forget about that once I tasted it.” I smiled again, hoping to bury the slight I must have given. Ugh.
Now, I can see where that comment might have caused him to frown, but it was true! The cakes looked like stuffed bunnies and chicks, fluffy and bright yellow and white, with ribbons around their necks and whiskered noses. The candies resembled packages, animals, other food items, and celestial bodies. If I didn’t know they were confections, I would have thought they belonged on a shelf, or in a child’s toy box.
I paid for the tarts and agreed to convey tidings to Aymur.
Back at the clock tower, I noted the time as one-thirty to me, so half terdecca? Still loads of time, and I really wanted a quiet spot to process all I had learned that morning. The sound of the water wheel caught my attention again, so I followed the lure.
The road past The Cleft Barrel was subdued compared to the bustle of the Sagebridge road. On the right, I passed a tidy cottage framed by fenced gardens that teemed with color and vegetation. The sky blue sign had a rainbow in an upper corner and a mortar and pestle front and center.
The Orderly’s sign
Ah, probably the Orderly. I slowed and recognized many of the plants as healing herbs. Bright purple scapes of lavender, tight carpets of mother-of-thyme, and bold leaves of castor bean stood out as I wandered past, along with scents of mint, chamomile, and anise hyssop. In places, the unruly plants covered the pebbled paths, but in others, the herbs were cut neatly revealing rich brown mulch.
*Photos by form PxHere, except thyme image credit Alan Levine on PxHere.
A pedestal that looked like a small altar stood in the center of one of the blocks; I had noticed similar pieces in front of other buildings too. It could easily have held a sun dial or other garden ornament, but something about the individuality of each one I had seen suggested religion, or honor. I stopped then and looked around—there was no church-type building in the center of town, where I would expect one to be. Nature worshippers, perhaps?
Past the Orderly’s property, (which I noted had every square inch planted with herbs or edibles of some sort), there was a thin trail that wound off into the grass. The building before me was a mill of some sort, with the luring water wheel splashing off seconds in the sparkly river.
I followed the trail which ended on the riverbank. Setting my pack down under a small tree, I collapsed in the grass on my back.
I laid there for a few moments listening to unfamiliar birdsongs and inhaling the earthy scents to the backdrop of the waterwheel’s beat. Everywhere I went there was a vibrancy, a vitality and a positivity that permeated the air, even.
I could only describe it as the feeling you have on the first day of vacation—so full of energy, promise, activity, confidence— you know that feeling, right?
When my senses could hold no more sensations, I sat up and retrieved the foil pack. It was still oven-warm, the tarts soft and light in my hand. Aymur was right, it was an amazing peach tart. I wanted to scarf both of them down in a sticky, sweet minute, but I only ate half of one and re-stowed them.
My new rucksack should have been quite full with all I had stuffed inside, yet plenty of room remained, and it wasn’t heavy to carry at all. Bespelled again? Most likely, but I wasn’t complaining. This magic here certainly had its advantages. Ungifted though I was, I would employ it in the forms I could!
After a brief nap, I stretched and faced upstream, toward the mill. No sound of giant stones grinding together reached me, only that of splishing water, so perhaps it was a wool or textile mill.
Beyond that, the river widened way out into a pond, or a bay, if such could be on a river. I heard shouts every once in a while, and could see patches of color moving around, which I assumed to be people. They appeared to be moving around in familiar patterns, and then I saw a large boat—a barge?—creep into the middle of the bay. It was a large, flat vessel poled on either side by a man, away from me and the mill. Then a team of horses, big draft horses, emerged from the shade of a copse of trees on either bank. There must be another town upstream that they were returning to. Rennay had mentioned somewhere called Sawyerset on the road to Irillo, perhaps I would find out tomorrow.
I watched the activity upstream for a while and decided it must be a wood mill, which only made sense with Cragbend being the Arborea Seat, and the predominance of wooden construction everywhere. Occasionally I caught a slight scent of wood shavings, or burning wood, so that must be it. But where there didn’t appear to be electricity here, it would all be hand-sawn work, or magic. Like the woodworker with the carriages. Yes, magic.
I indulged in a quiet couple of hours by the river before heading back to Rosewood Manor.
As I crossed the bridge over the river, I saw three young children under the bridge, catching frogs and squeezing them to make them turn colors.
It was actually quite entertaining. I stopped on the bridge to watch them. The frogs were great fat things, and when squeezed, if they didn’t belch or emit fecal material to the boys’ delight, they turned any random shade of color. And if they were squeezed again, the color would change.
I’ll leave it here for now, the day isn’t over, but my trip to town is. See you next episode!~
A backpack that never fills up? What student couldn’t use that? I do wish it could have crossed back with me. The heated foil was super handy too, you could have warm bread whenever you wanted. Would you have done anything different in a new town? Comment below and let me know.
In some other news, Quill & Orb Press, (the fiction part of my word services business), is ready to do developmental edits and copyediting for YOU! Fantasy, paranormal, YA, historical fiction, and other genres welcome.
Are you an Indie author? I’d love to work with you!
Click here for a list of genres I review, and other services I offer:
Want more info about life in Huphaea? Sign up for Collata⚡, The Collection of Huphaea newsletter! Nightingales get some more inside bits about my time in Huphaea, and other news on my writing and related interests. Once a month, so no cluttered inboxes, just a snippet here and there. Join the Nightingales, Eleanorah’s troupe!
Hello Everyone! There’s a cool breeze wafting in my window as I type, it feels sort of like—I can’t say it—fall? Yikes! It won’t be long now until I put the pool away, but while the sun is still warm, I’ll be out in my hammock. I hope all is well with you in your corner of the world, and let’s get on with the exploring, shall we?
When we left Elahna, she had just returned from her trip to the top of Rosewood Manor. Let’s see what other mischief she gets herself into.~
back in my rooms…
I stopped back in my room, since Rosewood had so conveniently deposited me there, thinking to grab stuff for a day in town, but then I remembered I didn’t have anything! What an odd feeling. The summer-appropriate clothes I wore had all been given or loaned to me these past three days, I had no personal supplies and no money. Indebtedness was adding to the anxiety I chose to bury in discovery. I’d have to sort that out soon. I hoped the queen would have some ideas of how I could be useful while I was here. Hopefully one that didn’t involve indentured servitude or work camps…. So far this society didn’t feel like a cruel, vindictive one, but I shouldn’t get my hopes up.
For now, I was glad I had been practicing ‘living in the present’ and being concerned with what I could control at any given moment. And oddly enough, right now what I had to control was time. Oh, the irony…
In the back of my mind, yes, I was worried about what my parents and brother were thinking. Especially since I was sure someone would have discovered my car left there in Vermont. I hadn’t really said where I was going, though, cause I wasn’t sure myself. My bike would be harder to find, but if my mom remembered that I was seeking a rumored megalith someone was bound to know where I would end up. It would look so much worse than it really was, I felt awful at how scared and upset they would be. I was also glad I hadn’t yet gotten the puppy I was planning to.
After a quick re-set of my hair in a ponytail, I decided to find Aymur before I left the manor. Perhaps he had a time-keeping device I could borrow for the day so that I didn’t miss the evening meal. On my way back out the the door, something caught my eye on the side table. A small green pouch and a silver disc on a chain sat with a card bearing my name.
Once again, the generosity of these people left me speechless. A few metallic clinks sounded from the pouch, but there was more in it than that. I took it over to the bedspread and upended it, not knowing what to expect. Four copper coins like to quarters with holes in the middle, four white pearls the size of an eraser, two pink pearls a bit bigger than the whites, an iridescent bauble with sides (a dodecahedron?), three gold circles like O-rings the same size as the coppers, and two silver crescents about half-dollar size tumbled out. Well, this would be interesting, hopefully I wouldn’t overpay too much for a tart.
*photos from pxhere, except three gold rings from Deena England on Unsplash
The pocket clock was simple yet striking. The silver cover clicked open when I pushed the tiny catch and revealed a flat dial with numbers one to twenty-seven in a circle. The transparent bronze arrow in the center spun around and sprang to a stop at half ten. I wondered what kind of stone the arrow it was, I’d have to ask about that too.
I swept the money back into the pouch and put both items in my pocket. I still had erdurs before dinner. Time to explore Cragbend!
As I left the manor I encountered the young boy, Lignan, from the night before. He stopped so that we didn’t have to walk through the door together, holding it for me, and I could have sworn I heard a mumbled “Sorry for what I wrote” as I passed. I nodded slightly in thanks and continued down the cobbled apron onto the dirt drive. Moments later, he ran past me and off toward the horse paddocks.
The walk to Cragbend proper took about half an hour. I crossed an ornately carved wooden bridge at the Sawyer’s Run Inn that put me in view of the crossroads. Most likely that was the river’s name, which would make sense, given the barge scene I saw from the treetop. The smell of roasted vegetables and meat surrounded the inn, making my mouth water. How could I be hungry after the lavish breakfast I’d had? But man, that smelled heavenly.
People nodded and smiled, sometimes palming a greeting. I returned it, trying to hide my observation of ears and other elvish features. I wondered how many of Cragbend’s citizens had elemental powers and how many were, what did Daphne call them, Ungifted? Was there animosity between the Gifted and non? She didn’t seem to indicate it, but then again, she obviously had gifts aplenty, so why would she. I’d have to try a little sleuthing of my own.
Cragbend clock tower
A large stone clock tower outlined with dark wood in Tudor-esque style marked the center of town. It was one of the few stone items I had seen so far here. The smooth facade gleamed cream with pink streaks in the bright sun. A large, triangular shaped crystal of the same bronze stone as in my pocket clock glinted in the clock face, pointing just after the eleven. It still felt like the days were the same length as home, it was so hard to tell when my frame of reference was gone.
There was something remarkable about the sun here. The light it gave off was of an intensity that made me expect it to be unbearably hot, but it wasn’t. It felt like a June summer day in New England, no humidity, perhaps around 80 degrees. Was that the weather workers’ doing? How much did they have control of? Did they plan a week’s weather (um, an anek’s weather, I should say) like a menu? When did it rain? It must be frequently, with the lushness of the land and the healthy haystacks I noticed. I had never felt so unknowledgeable before.
So many questions I had, can’t you imagine? No, I didn’t have an escort or anything, I didn’t need one. No one mentioned any threats or things to watch out for. Kind of telling that’s what we think of first, right? Come to think of it, I hadn’t even seen any guards in Rosewood Manor. I guess with a living house that could help when it was needed, people defenders were unnecessary. I’d hate to think what that house could do to an intruder.
The field next to The Cleft Barrel stood empty, the Bluebirds had moved on to their next stop. I felt a pang of sadness at that, but it was replaced by the hope that I would see them again someday. Maybe the other Madrigal troupes too, so I could compare all of their shows. Perhaps a festival. Surely a society with such amazing performers would hold festivals, right?
Since I knew the road to the right headed back to Venrood Forest, I took the left fork. One of those many pointed signs indicated that somewhere down the road were places called Sagebridge,Arrowbreak, and Crescenton. I wondered what they were like. Were they family seats, too? I could hear the rhythmic splashing of a water wheel not far away, and maybe the grinding of millstones? The scents of cooling bread enticed me as I passed a bakery, no wonder as plump baguettes filled racks just inside the windows. Even the carved sign of a steaming loaf above the door looked good enough to eat!
Just then the door of the bakery flew open and three boys scampered out, a stout baker hot on their tails. As the boys rounded the corner toward me and the road, the one in front, a black-haired boy in green shirt and gray knee breeches, reached in the window and snagged two of the baguettes. They took off down the street in the direction I was headed, hooting and laughing. The baker’s rolling pin clocked the slowest boy in the back of the shoulder, but he did not slow.
Wow! That was a surprise! And there I was, caught in the middle! We’ll find out next time what happened 😉.~
And there it was, the first bit of mischief or dissent that I had witnessed since arriving. I did feel bad for the baker, but it was a great throw of the rolling pin! The money, though, I wasn’t sure what to make of that, it was so different. I’ll tell you what I learned about it next time. What would you do in a new town in a new world for several hours? Drop a comment in the box below and we can talk about it 🙂.
In some other news, Quill & Orb Press, (the fiction part of my word services business), is ready to do developmental edits and copyediting for YOU! Fantasy, paranormal, YA, historical fiction, and other genres welcome.
Are you an Indie author? I’d love to work with you!
Click here for a list of genres I review, and other services I offer:
Want more info about life in Huphaea? Sign up for Collata ⚡, The Collection of Huphaea newsletter! Nightingales get some more inside bits about my time in Huphaea, and other news on my writing and related interests. Once a month, so no cluttered inboxes, just a snippet here and there. Join the Nightingales, Eleanorah’s troupe!
Hello Everyone! I hope you all are well and staying safe and healthy. Summer is in full swing here, since the last post I have finished opening the pool and am back to swimming laps in preparation for soccer starting back up. How is the re-opening progressing where you are? Are you thinking of travelling this summer at all? I’m doing the mind travelling route, taking off for other worlds in my head as I write these CoH chronicles and the subsequent novel(s). I’ve also taken up firm residence in Victorian London, thanks to the historical fiction audiobooks I escape with when I’m weeding and walking the dogs. Sherry Thomas’ The Lady Sherlock Series has been fabulous to listen to, if you are a fan of that genre, I strongly recommend it!
When we last saw Elahna, she had been left at the spectacular Rosewood Manor by the Bluebirds and she knew she would be heading to the capital city of Irillo sometime soon. There had been another performance, and then an awkward encounter with a boy. Elahna was pretty nervous about this ‘Passer’ thing. Let’s see how she is in the morning…~
a sunlight alarm*
Warm sunshine streaming through leafy shutters brought me awake. At some point I had crawled under the covers and nestled into the cloud-like pillows. Branches woven together formed an intricate canopy in russet and olive hues above me. Leaves framed the edges where scrollwork would normally appear, and gauzy light blue material filled the gaps mimicking the sky. I hadn’t taken the opportunity to appreciate my accommodations last night, my unrest had been too immediate and I had even fallen asleep in my clothes. I rubbed crusty sleep from my eyes and scanned the room then, examining the contents.
Every piece of furniture appeared to grow out of the floor, walls, or ceiling, depending on what it was. Bright dyed cushions in blues, soft yellows and russets decorated the chairs. The bed dressings mirrored the color choices in summer weight blanket and linens.
Time. What time was it? I hadn’t had a chance to figure out how many erdurs were in the days here yet.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t even seen the moon in this land yet. Was there one? At that thought, so many other questions flooded my mind that I had to get up and move around to dispel them.
That was when I found the water system in the bathroom—you had asked about water earlier.
The sink emerged from the wall as a curved basin of lighter colored wood.
Two curved hollow branchlets hung over the sink. I touched one and cool water started flowing, and was immediately absorbed when it hit the basin.
not quite right, but on this idea…*
It was mesmerizing to watch. I touched the other, and warm water flowed. These trees would certainly consume huge amounts of water to support all of these leaves and structures; a built-in recycling system, created out of the tree itself, made perfect sense. The lighter-colored wood of the basin must be the tree’s xylem, its water conductive tissue. Ingenious.
On the opposite wall, a shower area was designated. The shower head faced down from the ceiling in the center of a lattice work not unlike the bed canopy. The walls were constructed of layers of leaves, which funneled the water to the same light-colored xylem floor. I was grateful for the warm water after fighting battles for two nights during the Bluebird’s performances.
When I emerged, wrapped in a thick fluffy robe that resembled cotton (though not any cotton known here), I found a new set of clothes on the chair aside the purple door. A folded note sat atop them. My new name on the front and the message inside were written in fine script:
~Please follow the red circles from the main foyer to my garden to break your fast. I look forward to meeting you.~
– Daphne Arborea
Hmmm, was this a summons? I didn’t enjoy the idea of being summoned, but I was a guest in her house. Maybe I could ask more questions about this house. Maybe she would explain what a Passer is and how they are viewed.
Honestly, at that point, I wasn’t sure what ‘Passer’ meant. I assumed it meant something about how I had come here, but then that also meant there had to be more people who had come here from Earth. Had that gone badly in the past and now Passers were feared? I didn’t get that feeling among the Bluebirds, but once we were here in Cragbend, the sentiment was different. And certainly that boy last night had been scared.
Speaking of that boy, along with Daphne’s note, there was also a thrice-folded piece of paper, obviously torn from something else, with a note written in a childish hand on the inside:
Please don’t take my Mamam with you when you go back to your home. I would miss her a lot, I love her so much. Please just go back home yourself and leave her with me. Thank you, Lignan Arborea
I knew it was the innocent plea of a scared child, but it was the stories that fueled the fear behind it that made me uneasy. I decided to take it to Daphne and ask what was going on.
The new garments were similar to my borrowed ones, but with dark green leaf patterns embroidered into the light green linen. Being a tree-oriented family, I wasn’t surprised. My stomach rumbled and I proceeded out the door to meet Daphne Arborea.
Now that I was looking for them, I discovered a entire crayon box of colored shapes and circles on the floor, all going in separate directions, like breadcrumb trails of cereal winding down the halls and up the stairs. Upon closer inspection, the colorful bits were actually gemstones, gold, and crystals set into the wood floor as part of the nature scenes beneath my feet.
gemstone markers with gold nuggets in Rosewood’s floors
In the vast main foyer, where the original house remained, the floors were of the same patterns, the only difference being the noise my sandals made as I walked.
The effect the scenes created was like walking on an iced-over stream with gems set in the streambed, or a rocky forest path with colored trail markers lining the edge. It was so realistic I kept waiting for wet feet, or pebbles between my toes. I remembered what Raga said about Rosewood Manor always changing and wondered if the floor scenes did too.
I should stop here, so that next time we will meet with Daphne Arborea, matriarch of House Arborea. Stay tuned and don’t miss episode #9!
So, a floor inlaid with gemstones and gold nuggets as markers? What kind of place is this, right? I’ll let you in on something, gemstones are pretty commonplace in Huphaea. There are four Houses concerned with obtaining and working with them, so you can imagine what they produce. We will meet them later on, I promise!
How about the Manor itself, and what do you think Daphne Arborea will be like? Let me know in the comments below, don’t worry, you’ll find out soon!
If you want an extra peek into Huphaea and Elahna’s journey, subscribe to Collata, the Collection of Huphaea newsletter. Once, maybe twice a month, Nightingales get an exclusive snippet from my memory of my time away. Click the button below to join the Nightingales, I’m looking forward to welcoming you!
Hello Everyone! It’s a steamy, tropical day here, perfect for sitting with my words (as long as the computer doesn’t frazzle out with humidity) and reminiscing. There is so much about Huphaea I wish I could share with you in reality, though I hope our story sessions do inspire happy emotions and active imaginations 😊. Stories are intrinsic to us as humans and provide a little refuge when it all gets ‘a bit crazy out there.’ I hope you are all well and safe 💛. Nightingales, look for a new issue of Collata in your inbox soon!
When we last left Elahna, she had just had her world rocked by the Madrigal Bluebird troup’s mind-blowing performances and some tavern ale… let’s see how she is feeling the next day…~
Town of Cragbend, Seat of Scion Arborea, House Gaiist
Morning found me wrapped in a soft blanket in a pavilion. The sounds of an active camp and smells of sausage and eggs floated around me. I sat up and felt the dull pound I expected in my head. Ugh. This was gonna suck. The tavern ale had hit like good-natured boxer—hard, but with a jolly laugh. I remembered laughing a lot, and oh, jeeeyyyz my body felt battered, I just hoped I hadn’t acted too much a fool. Right then, Raga stuck his head in the door and grinned.
Bluebird camp*
“Ah! You live! I’ll call Poet in, I can imagine you need her services.”
What did that mean? “Oh, ah, I’m good, thanks,” but my attempt to stand up betrayed me. He chuckled again.
Poet ducked inside and knelt beside me. “Here, let’s see if I can help some.” She put one hand on the front of my head and one on the back and started to hum in a low tone. When she stopped after a minute or so, the pounding had subsided into a tolerable ache.
I gazed at her in wonder. “How did you do that? Are you a healer too?”
Vitae works wonders…*
“No, not as such, it’s just another aspect of my singing ability. I use my voice to create, but I can also draw away with it. The bits I can’t fix some food will. Come on. We saved some for you.”
As we walked through camp, I noticed many of the others watching us overtly. I caught the word ‘Passer’ several times in whispered tones and my self-consciousness came rushing back. I didn’t belong here. I had to find a way home.
“There’s the Passer. Is she staying here?”*
Did I want to go home? Well, that was the REAL question. Kinda yes, and kinda no. I definitely wanted to know more about this land of Huphaea, its amazing people, the magic, dragons(!), but would I be welcome to?
Fife greeted me heartily and Tango hugged my legs. “Well, fla, unfortunately the Orderly isn’t here at the moment, though I’ll say your head seemed fine last night, if a bit ale-addled. You sure have some stories to tell and some strange words. Hopefully Raga let you sleep once you were tucked away in the pavilion, eh?” He waggled his eyebrows and winked at me.
I felt my face burn crimson. Oh god, I had no memory of even walking back to camp—and Raga wasn’t there to save me. Oh no, what did I do? Would Poet hate me? She didn’t seem to, but that could be a front until later. Ugh.
I passed the day helping where I could to be useful, to keep my mind off what might have happened that I didn’t remember.
The cartwrights had indeed set up a mobile workshop of sorts out by the wagons and were busy fitting new wheels, replacing axle shafts, applying grease to hubs, repairing cracks in the walls and floors, and there was even a painter. The last two individuals held my attention for a while. They were absorbed in their work, but the lack of tools and jars normally seen with menders and painters was glaring to me.
The mender was a bearded man in a red vest. He ran his long fingers over every inch of the wagon box to my left. When he detected some unseen anomaly, he stopped and placed his opposite hand into the bucket he carried with him. Something would flow, seemingly from the fingers of his first hand, onto the wood. When he was satisfied, he removed the hand from the bucket and continued pressing and smoothing the spot. It made me think of applying caulking or glue to a crack. When he moved away, a bright spot of new wood shone. The more I watched, the more it became obvious that he was drawing on the contents of the bucket to fill the cracks—but through his hands and body? I didn’t want to stare too long, but I was mesmerized. At that moment, the painter approached the wagon to my right.
“Elements be. Did you paint these coaches? They are astoundingly beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“Elements be. Oh, I did not paint them originally, but I have worked on them several times when the Bluebirds are in Cragbend. They are lovely pieces. All of the Madrigal caravans are stunning.” The woman was young, with shorter, straight black hair woven into rows of braids that were pulled back from her face. Her highly pointed ears poked out between the rows and corralled numerous paint brushes. She carried a flat palette with a large dollop of white paint on it. Her smile was small, perhaps shy, but her lavender eyes radiated confidence and warmth. She wore a white sleeveless shirt and not a spot of color marred it.
“Forgive me for asking, but can you tell me what he is doing? It looks like he is repairing cracks, but I can’t see how.”
She grinned now, it was lopsided but full of openness. “He is repairing cracks, yes. See how he finds the weaknesses with one hand by touch, and then applies the sawdust in the bucket to it. His talent is transformative. The sawdust becomes a form he can work into the anomalies to re-strengthen them. They appear as new wood, then I come along and color them to match. I’m guessing you are the Passer everyone is talking about.”
“Oh, um, yes I am.” My eyes slid to the side, a bit embarrassed. Just then, she plucked a brush from an ear, dipped it into the white paint and touched up the design where the new wood gleamed. The paint brushed on in the exact colors necessary! My mouth fell open a bit and I drew a tiny sharp breath. She glanced back at me with that grin again.
white brushes leave color?*
“Creating color is my gift,” she said, before I could even splutter a question.
“But, how? How did you make something white into all those shades of blue just there? I don’t see any dyes or pigments on your board.”
“My talent is transformative, too. There is plenty of pigment all around us, in the form of light. It’s filled with color.”
“You use light? Like channeling it into the paint or something?” I didn’t care that I sounded like an idiot.
“Yes, very much like that! I see light and colors very differently when I invoke my talent. It allows me to see color in its parts so I can draw the light I need to create the exact colors.” She kept painting as she spoke, the strokes leaving color that blended perfectly with the surroundings.
“That’s amazing. Do others have that ability too?”
“Some, sure. There are others who are Herballs who have like ability, but they do work with the actual dyes and pigments in plants. Their work is best for garments and fabrics, candles, more softer materials. The coaches are always outside, so light-based color makes the most sense for their artwork. It’s constantly being refreshed that way.”
“Wow, I’m,… thank you. I don’t know what to say, there is nothing like that where I’m from. And this type of color makes so much more sense to me! Thank you for indulging my curiosity. I should get back and be useful. Enjoy your day! Elements be!” I raised my left palm and smiled as I turned away.
“Elements be, you’re welcome. Enjoy your stay.” She tipped her palette to me in goodbye and went back to embellishing wood with light.
I caught up with Fife next as I crossed the camp. He said he had spoken with Aymur Arborea last night about finding me some help to get home. I tried not to look too disappointed. He had been so generous, I didn’t want to be ungrateful, and I knew I couldn’t stay with the troupe as I had no talent to offer. I was going to miss them though.
The Bluebirds had been such a help to me over the past day—it was hard to believe I had only been in Huphaea for a day!
What was that? Oh, no, I never did get an answer that day from Raga about the night before. I lived with that question for quite a while, mind you. And Poet never said a word 🤷🏼♀️.
We’ll leave it here for today, the next post will take us to Rosewood Manor and the delights that await there!
What did you think about the mender’s and painter’s abilities? Amazing, right? Would you want to go home if you were in Elahna’s shoes? Leave a comment below and let us know!
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The Sun, a Book, and a Dog 