Spiral Path (Night Calls Series Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

there’s a chance you’ll
lose, when you challenge another.
    We try not to leave loose ends.
    By the time I had hauled in the last of our things, Marta
had built a fire in the main fireplace and was setting an iron in the fire to
heat. “Unpack my bag, Allie,” she said. “We should set a small fire to warm up
the bedroom.”
    I blinked. Another fire? I would be happy to roll up in a
blanket in the big room, but I could see that wouldn’t please Marta. Dragging
the clothes bag behind me, I headed to the largest bedroom.
    It didn’t take long to start a fire in the pit in Marta’s
bedroom. Like my Papa, Uncle Jon had built some unusual things into his house,
including two bedroom fireplaces, one for the master and one shared by the
smaller bedrooms. I laid out all our clothing and shook out wrinkles, which
didn’t take long. All I had brought back from my family home was the one change
of older clothes Momma insisted I wear, and the breeches, skirt, shirt and
sweater I’d been wearing the day Erik Hudson snatched me and took me to his
family’s compound hundreds of miles away.
    I also went into the guestroom closet Uncle Jon had built
and pulled out every stitch of clothing I had brought from Sun-Return months
before. I folded carefully, since I knew Marta would check to be sure I had not
wrinkled things. She’d already started loading my trunk, which I found
interesting.
    Did Marta sometimes have prophetic dreams?
    If she did, what had those dreams told her, while I was in
Hudson-on-the-Bend?
    As
if conjured, Marta was suddenly there. “Are you finished packing your
trunk?” she asked as she stepped into the guest room.
    I paused. This question told me how worried Marta was about
what had happened last night. She usually told me to do something, and then
trusted that I was doing it.
    “Yes, ma’am,” I replied, holding up the tucker I was
folding. I had several, all linen, as they extended how long you could wear a
dress by many days. They also filled in any gaps that were not modest for
someone my age. We’d designed the necklines for the bosom I would eventually
have, not the one I had at the moment.
    “ Everything
that we’ve finished,” I added. “Not the ones laid out that we haven’t cut.”
    “ I
added the uncut material and a few other things while you were gone. Now, let
me check your height,” she said, and I stood so she could take my measure. By
her sudden smile, I knew that we had guessed right. Every scrap of clothing,
new or old, had been cut or trimmed longer in case I was still growing. Marta
had even left the chemises fuller than usual. “Good. You’ll need to make up
some new things when you get there. People pay more attention to fashion back
east, although New York is not as style conscious as Philadelphia or London.
Still, Esme may send you to Pennsylvania, so you need material to make
clothing. Your parents will send more as you need it—or money.”
    The idea that my parents would give me silver coin for anything was humbling.
    “ You
may need your Momma’s old skirt for cleaning day, so press it now, and we’ll
pack things tightly. Tomorrow, we go to New York.” With a nod, she went back to
heat us the stew and corn bread we’d brought from Sun-Return.
    I was so addled I barely had the sense to go make sure the
horses were cool enough to be given more water and food. If we were hitting the
road at dawn, we weren’t even stopping to pick up Marta’s favorite horse! When
I passed through the stillroom to the main room, I asked if I could help her
with dinner.
    “ Yes,
stir it, and when it’s hot through, and the cornbread is shining, serve it up.
I’ll just go check your trunk.”
    Definitely leaving at dawn. Believe my words—life with a
practitioner can be nervy.
    Dinner was hot and tasted wonderful, and we drank the last
of the cider from Hudson-on-the-Bend. My cousin would not let me fuss further
with the trunk or any food sacks, and insisted I get some sleep.