Maggie’s eyes seemed to see more than Eleanor was saying, but the older woman’s reply was all business. “Nora’s a good name, simple and sensible without being boring. If you’ve a mind to learn a little more about spinning and weaving before making that informed decision of yours, have Sarah point you in the direction of my cottage for an afternoon or two.”

Sarah nodded from where she sat. “Not today, it’s our big wash, but if you’re interested, you could visit tomorrow,” she grinned, “maybe do some carding or such in trade for a ball or two of knitting wool.”

Eleanor said. “I’d like to learn.”

“Good, that’s settled. Now let me rest a bit and pull some heat into these old bones.”

More women had meandered in during their conversation and Eleanor found herself being introduced again, this time to a bewildering number of interchangeable faces and names. She finished her bath and pulled a warmed towel from the heating pipes under Tilly’s direction. They both dressed and sat on a bench by the firepit to brush their hair.

The door opened and two more women entered the room, Sundarian, or at least part so, to Eleanor’s surprise. They both had the bronze-gold skin and black silk hair of the nation at the Eastern edge of the Shifting Seas, but the younger one was taller, broader and more curvaceous. She was also pouting and, when she spotted the two girls by the fire, stormed across the room and dragged Tilly off the bench by one arm. “Don’t sit with her, she’s town trash. You’ll pick up some nasty disease.”

Tilly shook her arm free and returned to her seat. “Eleanor’s showing me how to do my hair town-style. Come and learn.” She leaned across to Eleanor. “This is Martha, Evan Smith’s daughter. And that’s her mother, Lily, behind her.”

Martha scowled, and Eleanor could see her father in her features. “She’s not interested in teaching you, you’re too stupid to learn. Silly Tilly.”

Tilly bit her lip, tears threatening. There was a story there, but now was not the time to ask about it. Eleanor put down her comb and began weaving her yellow ribbon into a complex braid, showing Tilly how it worked. Tilly tried to copy but fumbled, and her braid unravelled. Martha’s snigger could be heard from two tubs away. She called across. “See? Unteachable Silly Tilly.”

Eleanor returned fire with her most sweetly venomous smile and said. “If she’s Silly Tilly. Are you Farty Marty?”

The whole bath house burst into laughter, under cover of which, Eleanor restarted Tilly’s braid for her, and coaxed her through the pattern until the younger girl had it right. She pointedly ignored the fuming, red-faced Martha.

Before Martha could clamber out of her tub to retaliate, her mother, Lily, came past, then paused, looking at Eleanor’s shawl. “Is that from Yallish?”

Eleanor replied in Sundarian. “Yes, it was a gift from my teacher for being a good student of his language and customs.”

The older woman gasped and replied in the same tongue. “How do you know my childhood language? Nobody speaks it here and I have all but forgotten.”

Martha shrieked. “She’s a witch! She’s speaking evil and ensorcelling my Ma!”

Lily tutted at her daughter. “If you cared to remember, you’d recognise your grandpa’s words. She’s speaking Sundarian and opened many memories to me.”

Martha’s jaw dropped, along with many others around her. Eleanor squirmed under the stares. “Languages are useful when you’re trading.”

Sarah came to stand by the bench. “Time for us to be getting on. It’s a busy day today.”

Eleanor followed Sarah out of the building, leaving Tilly to collect news and opinions to report back to her mother.

Back at the cottage, they were greeted with hot porridge, hot tea, and a jovial Matthew bundling a huge pile of linens into two wicker baskets. “All well with the village ladies then?”

Sarah replied. “Eleanor’s impressed Maggie, turned Tilly into an ally for life, and antagonised Martha.”

Cadan looked to Eleanor. “What did you say to Martha?”

Of course he had to choose that one, she tossed her head. “She was being beastly to Tilly, so I gave her a taste of her own medicine.”

Sarah added. “Then further undercut things by speaking with Lily Smith in Sundarian. Lily’s over the moon and everyone knows Evan would rather cut off his right hand than upset anything that makes his wife happy. Martha’s furious.”

Eleanor sighed, lovely. She may have inadvertently pulled the rug out from under one would-be enemy, but she was fairly sure Martha was going to be considerably more difficult to deal with than her father.

Breakfast and morning chores complete, Eleanor found her feet back on the path to the bath house, this time lugging a large, heavy basket of clothes, sheets, and assorted drying and cleaning cloths.

Sarah, similarly laden, nudged the door open with a foot, and they walked into chaos. It quickly resolved into a group of adults, both women and men, dunking clothes into tubs, as a frenzied tribe of children in assorted sizes waged war against each other, the tubs, and piles of items yet to be washed.

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