“You’ll be hungry,” Sinead said, opening the door into a house that was rather sparsely furnished even by the Petaybean standards Marmion had observed thus far.
Then she saw the huge loom that took up most of the available floor space. Benches and chairs hung from nails on the walls; other things were up off the floor, too, to allow easy access to the loom. A woman was working shuttle and batten with a deftness that made the individual motions a bluronly the clack-clack as she changed combinations of harnesses provided any noise. She looked up from her work, nodded, smiled, and continued to concentrate on what she was doing.
“We brought provisions,” Marmion said. “Oh! How silly of me not to grab my”
The door opened again and the gawky youngster lowered the saddlebags to the floor and departed so swiftly that Marmion had to shout her thanks to the closing door. She then glanced apprehensively at the intent weaver to be sure she hadn’t distracted the woman.
Sinead smiled. “That was good of you, but I think our larder can stand two extra mouths tonight.”
“But I insist that you have the use of our supplies, Sinead. Clodagh said you were probably out of fivespice andoh, what was the name of the other seasoning?” Marmion made for the saddlebags and began pulling out the bottles and sacks, and the dried foods that Clodagh had told her would be acceptable to any host. When she added the five-kilo sack of sugar, she said meekly, “I take so much sugar in my tea that I insist you have this. I promise not to use it all up. because there’ll be berries to conserve so very soon now.”
“That is very welcome indeed, Dama,” the weaver said. “For we’ll have a fine crop, and soon, and there’s nothing like a bit of jam to make pan bread a real treat.”
“Aigur, this is the Dama I told you about, and Captain Torkel Fiske.”
Marmion’s quick mind mused over the implication that no one had talked about Torkel at all, but then, her appearance would be more unusual than his. Still, she could see by the twitch of his lips that he caught the subtle insult. Really, the Shongilis were a delight, Marmion thought. A pity to have to spoil them. For that matter, why should they be spoiled? They were marvelous just as they were.
Tea was brewed and drunk, sweetened by Marmion’s gift. Marmion brought Aigur’s cup to her loom so that she could have a closer look at the intricate pattern. She couldn’t resist fingering the texture and exclaimed at its softness.
“Curly-coat,” Aigur told her.
“It’s such an amazing pattern. Some special order?”
“My daughter’s marrying and this will be for their wedding bed,” Aigur said proudly.
“Oh, it is stunning, but” Marmion cut off the rest of her intended remark about how much weaving of this beauty and intricacy would bring in the sophisticated shops of her usual environment. “such a labor of love,” she concluded, smiling.
The problem with coming from her usual ambiance to this one was that even the most mundane items were unusual, from and of this world, and that was where they should stay. She should not contribute to the despoiling of Petaybee. She was becoming more and more certain of that.
“As I said, Sinead,” Torkel was saying, “we should really look into a network of roads between settlements, particularly over the passes.”
“Oh?” Sinead raised her eyebrows in polite surprise. “Then Intergal has come up with an all-weather surface that can survive the temperature, wind-chill factors, permafrost sinkholes, and ice intrusion?”
Torkel ducked his head, smoothing his hair. “We will. We will. It’s only a matter of time, Sinead, but a road system would certainly help.”
“SpaceBase folks, perhaps, while you’re ‘investigating’ Petaybee, but snocles in the winter suit us fine and can go many places you couldn’t put a road that’d last a year or two, and the curly-coats manage slush, mud, and summer hard tracks. No, Captain Fiske, though we will all appreciate the thought, I don’t think any road works are necessary. ‘Sides which we don’t have the personnel you’d need to construct them.”