***
For nearly two full days after his return, Stenhelt was unable to escape the attention of his family for any good length of time. What Irisella wanted to share with him would've apparently taken longer than a few moments to tell, so she had to be patient. Their mother kept a vigilant eye on Sten, as if he might trek off again without notice. Beyond her worry, she and the family were filled with questions about where he went and the sights he'd seen.
Necessary chores awaited each member of the family, though, and they weren't shirkers. Halivik resumed his stitching of leather boots and gloves to sell at the upcoming Vale Fest. Baraide and Irisella busied themselves in the garden, and tended to the livestock. Tull stayed near his own nearby cabin to work on a carriage for Lady Tovira, but spent meal times with the family. They were lucky to enjoy their labors.
Sten wanted to begin the construction of his own cabin, and asked his mother if he could steal Iri away now and again to assist him. It was the only excuse he could think of to let his fretting sister speak her mind. Iri pleaded for the opportunity, promising to render all of the animal fats in the meat cellar and expand the pen fences. Baraide reluctantly agreed, but demanded all of the assurances that most mothers would.
Out near Scroll Creek, the siblings came to the location for Sten's future home. He previously chose a large patch of exposed and roughly level bedrock up on a slight rise for the site. Some rock and timber had already been gathered before he left for his trek. But, coming to the area again after two seasons gone, he saw a mound of loose rock and a tall triangle of debarked, cut logs. Tull said he'd gathered more while Sten was away, but made the effort sound modest.
Iri helped Sten determine dimensions and angles, and then stood on the bedrock as he worked around her to mark locations with rocks and thinner logs. "It's still cold out," she commented, shivering in her oversized rabbit-fur coat.
"Then go stand by those trees to get out of the wind," he grunted, lifting a large stone.
"No, that's alright. I came with you to help, remember?"
Sten continued with his work. "And fine help you are," he said while he walked past her to pull a log from the stack. "I don't know what I'd do without you keeping that bedrock in place."
Iri ignored his sarcasm. "I could never understand how you could stand it, running around in the snow wearing little more than boots and that cur poncho."
"Except for the winter out on the Thunder Plains, cold never troubled me much. You get sick every winter, so it's plain why you don't like it. In the summers, though, you're like a squirrel on the chase." Sten then grinned and added, "Perhaps I should've asked for you to help me then."
"You prefer winter? That's a harsh season for hunting. Summers are better for everything."
Sten gave his sister an incredulous glance. "Summers are good for gardening and the like, but not much else. In summers, scents don't carry too well, game meat can spoil quickly, and bugs can ruin all sorts of things. But in winter, the lack of leaves makes for a better path of sight, and tracking prey in snow is much easier."
"Well... that may be, but I don't hunt. Summers are best for many other things."
"Fair enough; it's best for crops and herds and such. While it's not my favorite season, I do like summers as well... although I tend to draw flies like a field pie," he responded with a wink.
Iri chuckled at him, but a troubled expression quickly replaced her smile. She stood there for a few long moments before asking, "Sten, can I talk to you about my problem now?"
Sten stopped his work and saw his sister looking fragile and distressed. Hoping more light banter might brighten her mood, he said, "As you're not doing anything else, I don't see why not."
She scowled at him, and then reached into her coat. "I have something for you to see," she said, "but you cannot tell anyone. Please swear to it."
"Very well, I swear," he agreed, stepping closer.
Iri pulled out a wooden mug and held it in front of her. "Here," she whispered. "Look closely."
Sten looked at it, noticing nothing except for a small chip in the wood and the faint scent of mead. "Is this the mug you poured over Annori's head?" She nodded, looking down. "So you stole this from the inn?" he asked with a firmer tone.
"Yes, but - but, Sten, I -"
"You stole, Iri," he stated angrily, "and from a neighbor, no less. We've known Vendik all our lives. He has always shown us kindness, no matter what kind of daughter he raised. I can't believe you did this, taking from a good man."
"I'm sorry!" she wailed as tears began to well in her eyes. "I didn't mean to... I saw what I did, and I panicked. I mean, not to Annori, but the..." She pushed the mug out for him to take.
Sten held the mug in his hand and, turning it, saw that the wooden handle was quite warped. It also had deep depressions that small fingers could fit into, like a potter would squeeze clay. He looked at her with more alarm than confusion. "What did you do to it?" he asked, although a vague answer had already come to him - ancestral blood.
"I - I don't know," Iri sniffed. "I mean, I have a notion, but I've never done anything like that before. I was as angry as I'd ever been, and - and I saw the mug on the floor after I hit her. I suppose everyone was looking at Annori, but all I saw was the twisted mug. I picked it up and ran out. I didn't know how to explain if Vendik saw what I did to the mug."
"Then explain it to me," Sten said as calmly as he could.
"I don't know, Sten!" she cried louder than before.
Sten tossed the mug aside and pulled his sister into a firm embrace, letting her tears stain his wool shirt. "Alright, Iri, it's alright," he soothed with a whisper. "Take deep breaths and calm down, or I'll have to dunk your head in the creek."
A grunt of laughter ended her weeping. "I'll pull your ears if you try," she said into his shirt.
He pulled back, holding her at arm's length. "Let's get you out of this refreshing breeze and we'll find out what can be done for your matter." They stepped over to a nearby stand of evergreens that the wind couldn't cut through, and then sat facing each other. "Now," Sten continued, "you said you have a notion of what happened. What do you mean?"
"I've always been 'good in the garden', as mother says. You know our berry bushes always come into bloom early, and our orchard trees are bigger than most. Not to sound proud, but I think those things have happened because of me rather than lucky happenstance."
Trying to sound skeptical, Sten asked, "How do you know it was you?"
"I - I sort of urge them. The plants and trees, I mean." Seeing her brother's frown, she explained further. "The soil in the garden isn't as good as mother thinks. When I was little, I tested myself. I urged a few different cabbage plants, and they grew to nearly twice the size of the others. I've done more tests since. I'm sure it's me. Don't you remember those onions four summers ago that were bigger than your head?"
"Yes, I remember." Because of the excess, their mother plied them with onion stew until their father demanded that she stop. "So mother doesn't know about this... this special way you have with plants?"
"No, oh no," she replied, shaking her head emphatically.
"Why, Iri?" Sten asked. "This can only be a good thing, yes?"
"No, it can be a bad thing, too. All those cycles ago, when I saw you chase that fox... You looked at how your hands had changed, and you were scared. And it made me scared. Then you began going to Lady Krin's estate, I thought because she had to use some sort of magic to fix you. I didn't want that to happen to me, so I kept my, em, nature's touch a secret. That's why I knew you would understand more than anyone else. I might never have told you my secret, but things became truly strange this past winter."
"Strange?" he asked hesitantly. "From what you say, you made things strange enough already."
"I wasn't strange," Iri countered defensively. "All the plants liked me. Bees came near without stinging me. Butterflies followed me. It was my own special secret, and it was fun."
"So it's no longer fun? The plants don
't like you anymore?"
"They still do, I suppose, but I no longer have to sit there and urge them," Iri answered, and then turned to a protruding evergreen branch. She slowly lifted her hand, and the branch began to curve upward. When she put her hand back in her lap, the branch remained in its new position. "After I got angry with Annori, something changed," she explained. "My fever this winter was worse than any before. Later, I urged a bush and it came to full bloom right before my eyes."
Sten looked from the branch to her. "That helps to explain the mug, I suppose."
Iri nodded. "And I've tried my touch on tree limbs since, alive and dead. I can make them bend like baker's dough. That's part of what scares me. I could end up hurting someone much worse than giving them a sore nose if I lose my temper. Can Lady Krin fix me?"
Sten's heart ached for the desperate tone in his sister's voice. He shook his head in answer her anxious question, and then explained, "Iri, Lady Tovira had no cure for me because I didn't need one. The tricks I learned from her did not save me from any Maker's madness. Her teachings are helpful, but not needed... for either of us. The abilities you have are not the signs of being a Maker, I'm sure of it."
"Then what is this, Sten? My secret used to be so fun. Now it frightens me."
Sten pursed his lips, trying to find the right words. He was no wise guide like Chohla. His sister was depending on him, though, so he could only follow the examples of his mentor. "I don't have your nature's touch," he stated. "Do you have a bond with animals as I do?"
"No," Iri replied with a faint grin. "Some autumns back, while you and father were off hunting, I tried to chase a rabbit as you chased that fox. It was gone before I was short of breath."
Her story confirmed Sten's hunch. "I learned some hidden truths from a man who is like us," he began. "We have ancient blood in us, Iri. It comes from people who were in this land before the first Kalde settlers arrived. Some of those people mated with ours, although they did not stay or wed to raise the children they sired. Those people were filled with wanderlust, and they had abilities greater than ours. They knew secrets."
Iri frowned. "I never heard of those people in my lessons with cleric Mundur. Does Lady Krin know of them?"
"I never asked, but I don't think so. The man I spoke of, the one who told me this... He has been my guide from time to time since I was younger than you are now. He doesn't have a care for being noticed, nor to have people remember him. I imagine the rest of his people are of the same mind. As far as I know, he never lived in a village or stayed in any one place for long. By his own words, his people have always been nomads. I doubt you would hear any stories or songs about them."
Pondering the new information, Iri slowly asked, "So, those people... Most likely mystics of some sort, I'd wager, but... Who exactly are they?"
"I don't know," Sten answered with a shrug and shake of his head. "I was never told. In my mind, I call them the Wanderers. The man I speak of is the same stranger who helped father all those cycles ago after curs attacked us."
"But... you and father said a traveling herbalist chanced upon you."
"He is an herbalist, and more - much more. He may be one of the first Wanderers, or perhaps a pure descendant of them. I'm not sure. What I know for truth is he taught me many things that Lady Tovira knows nothing of. I was told abilities come to us in different forms, or ways. Mine is 'the way of the beast', he said. Your way must be with trees and flowers and such."
Iri thought for a moment before pondering aloud, "Perhaps your guide and his kin are related to the old gods, the ones that some folks still pray to for harvests and fair weather."
"It's as good a guess as any, although that would put us as related to gods - false gods, cleric Mundur would say. Believe what you will, but I won't entertain such a smug notion."
"Then who do you think they are?"
Sten sighed. "I honestly don't know. If my guide thought I was ready to be told, he would have. Other than knowing many secrets, he always seemed to be a normal man. Overall, I tend not to dwell on the Wanderers; I think on who I am and what good I can do with my abilities."
Iri understood his meaning and nodded. She needed to find answers within herself rather than mysteries she might never know the truth of. "Could this man, your guide. . . Since he came along and helped you with ..." she rolled her hands to express her words, ". . . your own way, could he help me with mine?"
"I'm sure he could, but he has traveled on. I don't know when I'll see him again." Sten's words caused Iri's eyes to widen with dismay, so he tried to assure her. "I'm no teacher, Iri, but I will help as best I can."
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Now, I don't know everything about my own abilities, let alone yours. Still, we won't let that won't stop us. I was taught to rely on my instincts and let things happen naturally. You should follow the same advice, and have faith in yourself. Most importantly, explore your 'nature's gift' with father's wisdom: heart and thought."
"I won't forget," she responded earnestly.
Sten smiled. "You're smart, Iri; I think you'll know when to be either bold or careful with testing yourself. Like I said, trust your feelings. Now, let's begin. Tell me what you feel is best."
Iri thought for a moment. "I should... keep this a secret, as before," she began hesitantly. "Most folks wouldn't understand." Sten nodded his agreement. "I should explore what I can do, but only on dead plants and trees at first; I don't want to hurt a live one."
"And do so out of sight and sound from home," he added to her statement, "just to be safe against the unexpected."
"Yes, alright," Iri concurred. "I also... need to repay Vendik for the mug."
"That would be only right and fair."
"And, I should..." she faltered, looking around absently beyond her brother, "I should mention that you have a problem."
The statement surprised Sten. "What - I - What problem do I have?" he stuttered.
"Well, look," Iri said as she pointed at the site of his future home. "You have bedrock flooring to build around, the land is clear in front, woods to the back, and you're less than thirty paces from fresh water. All good planning, I'd say."
"I think so, yes," Sten said slowly, unsure of what she was leading to. He wasn't concerned, though. The tension had left his sister's voice, and a sparkle was back in her eyes. The Iri he knew and loved was with him again. It was all that mattered.
"Then unless you plan to squat in the creek like a crude pig or a barbaric Ferren, you need to find a spot for an outhouse."
"Oh." He'd spent so much time squatting in the wild that an outhouse never came to mind. Once mentioned, the concept seemed almost too civilized.