The Beginning

The morning sun was just awakening on the horizon as a rooster proclaimed the new day from atop the chicken coop.

Already Nabrie was hard at work milking the goats. She looked up at the rooster, still crowing vigorously, and sighed to herself. Wouldn't it be nice to not do any chores today?

Young and slender, with golden hair and green eyes, Nabrie was not yet fifteen. She wore a ragged white blouse torn from hard wear, and a long and shabby brown skirt. As she strode with her milk bucket from the goat pen to the house, she moved with natural grace. As a servant for the Gregory homestead, Nabrie had worked as hard as an adult woman from the time she was eight. Until that time, Mrs. Gregory had her clean the house every morning, but then she was allowed to play outside. It was a strange relationship; Nabrie was treated more as a "working guest" than a formal servant, and yet she still felt a division between herself and the rest of the family.

As she reached the farmhouse, smoke was rising from the brick chimney above the straw thatch roof that rose to a high peak at the middle of the house, and sloped down as low as Nabrie's elbow at the edges. It was a simple farmhouse, like thousands of others around the Kingdom of Mar.

Mrs. Gregory joined her in the kitchen and stretched her thick arms above her head as she yawned.

"Up afore that cock crows ag'in?" said the plump woman with a smile. She teased, "Ye don' need to work alone; there'll be nothin' fer me to do all day!"

Nabrie grinned at the motherly Mrs. Gregory, set down the goat's milk, and began to make breakfast.

Mr. Gregory's laugh echoed through the small house.

"Mah lad! Tis mornin,' get up!" he said.

Mr. Gregory ducked through the doorway, playfully hauling his youngest son over his broad shoulder. The other three boys, who were all hungry and eager to be fed, followed them shortly.

When the meal was over, the men went out to the field to tend the cattle and sheep.

Nabrie and Mrs. Gregory collected eggs and vegetables, drew water from the well, and tidied the house and yard. For lunch, they took cheese and fresh bread out to the men. Then Mrs. Gregory sat on the porch to knit while Nabrie took a reed basket of the family's dirty clothes down to the river.

She was thankful to be alone. It was the end of the week and she allowed herself to work casually. The spring afternoon was balmy, so she shed her own clothes and washed them along with the others.

Once she had hung the clean clothes from a rope between two trees, she climbed onto a large rock that jutted out over the bank. She jumped upwards, her body curving through the air, and dived neatly into the water. With powerful strokes, she swam against the current before turning onto her back and floating downstream.

When she emerged from the water, she used her pocketknife to fashion a comb from a piece of wood and tidied her long golden-blonde hair before binding it back with a cloth. She lay down to let the sunshine and the breeze dry her, enjoying a few precious minutes of rest.

Nabrie was a hard worker, but she never complained and was thankful for the Gregorys' generosity. Sometimes, in the depths of her heart, she longed to sail the winds far away from here. She could not help feeling that she was meant to do something greater than daily chores. She wanted to meet people and see different towns and cities.

In the intervals between housework, Mrs. Gregory had taught her how to read, and the few books at the farmhouse had inspired her imagination. Her conscious mind scoffed at dreams of a different life—she was nothing more than a humble servant—but her heart longed for more.

When the shadows began to grow long, Nabrie dressed and collected her laundry in the reed basket and set back to the homestead to make supper. Little did she know that she would never again visit the river.

* * *

With no inkling of what was about to happen to her, Nabrie helped Mrs. Gregory roast a lamb for the family's evening meal. They were sitting down to eat when the sheepdogs' barking warned of a stranger's approach. Almost immediately, there came a knock at the door.

Mr. Gregory rose to answer it, then led a guest inside—the most absurd and eccentric creature that Nabrie had ever seen or imagined. He was a lean man, a little shorter than Mr. Gregory, with fire-red hair and a short red beard. He was dressed in forest-green robes that looked like fancy drapery, and his silver eyes shone like beacons.

"Dah-hee! Its bin fifteen years since we last seen ye!" Mr. Gregory cried nervously.

The stranger replied in an odd, husky voice like surging water, wasting no time on small talk. "You know why I am here. You have taken good care of her, and not breathed a word?"

To Nabrie's amazement, Mr. Gregory turned and motioned for her to stand.

Bewildered, she watched the daunting-looking man stride across the kitchen toward her. She had only seen such blind confidence in the strutting young men of the village, in front of a seemly girl. As he stood in front of her and looked into her face, the man's harsh features softened with a boyish grin—one that made him look absurdly like a chipmunk.

"Ah, little Nabrie! You are the very image of your mother," he said. Nabrie could see now that affection filled his silver eyes as he introduced himself: "I am Daithi." His red beard puffed all the way up to his cheekbones as he smiled.

"Wouldn't ye share a bite wi' us, Dah-hee?" Mr. Gregory interjected. "Roasted a lamb tonight; ye wouldn't find its like even in royal kitchens."

Daithi turned away from Nabrie, releasing her from the spell of his personality. He became once again a man of stature, businesslike and brusque.

"No, thank you, no hospitality is required," he said. "After your dinner, send Nabrie out to the front porch—I would speak with her alone. I shall return in the morning and then we will be on our way."

Mrs. Gregory started to protest, but Mr. Gregory silenced her with an urgent wave of his hand.

"Of course," he said, nodding subserviently. He bowed low, and the stranger left with a fluid ripple of robes.

"Da, who was that?" the youngest boy asked, perplexed.

Mr. Gregory only shook his head, and Mrs. Gregory shushed the child. The parents turned their attention to their food. The rest of the family had to stifle their curiosity and do the same.

No one spoke; they only ate. The boys seemed to feel the strangeness of the visitor as much as Nabrie...