75 Mother II (1/2)
The next morning, mother and Jeanne said their goodbyes to the woman. The woman saw them to the main road, and mother curtsied while motioning Jeanne to do the same. She had always taught Jeanne to curtsy, how to grab a dress or garment at exactly the right height and to bow just at the right angle. Mother had said all proper ladies should know how to perform one, and by now, Jeanne thought herself pretty good at it.
”And say thank you to our host,” said mother.
Jeanne nodded and smiled at the woman. ”Thank you, uhm…”
The woman patted Jeanne's head with a smile. ”Aine. That is my name. Try and say it.”
”On-on-” Jeanne stopped. The name sounded like 'onion', but that wasn't exactly how the woman had said it. The name was not like anything she had heard before.
”Pardon me, little one, my accent bleeds in when I say my name,” said Aine as she giggled at Jeanne's attempts. ”This should sound much easier for your tongue. Here, say it like this: An-ya. Anya.”
”Anya,” said Jeanne without trouble. That was far easier to handle. She smiled proudly, and Aine nodded in approval.
Then, Aine looked at mother, but mother could not meet her eyes.
”The coin and elixirs should last you three weeks,” said Aine to mother, motioning to the waist pouch that now rang full and heavy with coins, and mother nodded weakly. ”I wish you nothing but luck.”
Aine gave mother a long parting hug before sending them off.
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Jeanne skipped around the streets of Riviera in glee. Mother followed close behind her, making sure she didn't get into serious trouble, but for once, mother did not stay ahead of her, always stopping her from going here or there, so she explored.
This was the first time Jeanne had ever been in a real city. In her whole six years of living, she had never stepped foot in anything bigger than a small town. Most of the time, she had lived in little villages, and never long enough to get to truly know them either.
As a result, she had grown up friendless and clueless about much of the world, but she knew that as long as mother was at her side, she would want for nothing.
Jeanne held a small mug of honeymilk in one hand and gnawed at a soft chunk of fluffy white sweetbread at the other. Mother had bought her anything she wanted today, and that had put her in a wonderful mood, the sugar fueling her excitement as she took in the many sights and sounds of the bustling city.
There were so, so many people and so many buildings that were so tall and it seemed like she could spend an eternity here and never get tired of it. There were enough people here to fit a thousand villages, Jeanne thought, and the buildings all looked like the towering and sparkling palaces that mother had told her about in her stories.
Jeanne ate and drank her fill of sweets, let street performers wow her with tricks like breathing fire or walking on thin stilts, and listened to bards for the first time, watching with mesmerized eyes as they sang with closed-eyed passion, their fingers strumming at their instruments.
All throughout, mother had smiled at her and even encouraged her to explore. Most of the time, mother never let her approach strangers or wander around, but today was an exception, and Jeanne made the most of it.
But when the sun began to set, mother called Jeanne back and led her to a quieter part of the city by the docks. There, they came upon a big but plain building. Unlike the stores that had flashy and colorful signs, the only sign the building had on it was a rickety old plaque carved with the image of a nondescript spoon. Its wood had started to chip in many areas while any decorative painting at its walls had long since been stripped away.
The building gave Jeanne an uneasy feeling, and she didn't like it much.
There, mother had knocked on the door, a wooden, rickety old thing painted blue, and an elderly woman had appeared wearing a shabby apron dress. She was small and squat with wrinkly, squinty eyes and big hands.