Nanoseconds of Musing

The Spinning

The apprentice worked on the tying off of the threads of the Cover. It was THE COVER in her mind, for she had never seen anything so simply intricate so amazing in feel and look. It was basically made of Markelberry fruit, dried out and pounded, to give the long shimmering fibres which were then wound onto a spindle by hand. Delicate handling was required to draw out long unbroken thread, for one used one filament from end to end of the piece of cloth. The material was typically woven in shape, no cutting of the cloth was ever done, that was one of its unique characteristics. Thus created, it lasted for generations.

Repairs could be done, but again the skill levels required were high, to tease out the damaged threads and pull through replacements without disturbing the whole. Rhss knew that the cost of repairing a garment often approached the cost of making one anew and only the scarcity of the raw material made repairs necessary and the Renewers in great demand.

If properly teased and spun, the threads would bind to each others without the use of a loom, a mere frame for laying being sufficient. The pattern was intricate, but visible only after the weaving and complicated matching of base colours had been done by the experts.

The garment would be spectacular, if it was used as for that purpose - such draping of cloth lengths was uncommon, although it had been popular once. It could be used as throw, or window draping or even just stretched across a wall. It appeared different according to the person who wore or used it. This was rumored to be for a high noble Lady, so it might sparkle with Purple highlights where it would only be a dull yellow-green if Ryss herself wore it.

That’s assuming I had the wherewithal to commission such a garment.

These were very expensive since the fruit matured only for a brief time each year and the entire yield was used up in the making of two or three such. Besides only one or two families had the skill required to weave these – Ryss had been apprenticed now for three years and had only now been entrusted with more than the mere pounding. But, if she persevered, in another decade or so, she would move on to being able to spin such a one as this … here Ryss held the cloth to her cheek and reveled in the feel of its whisper smooth folds, sliding down her cheek and …

Dear God, the cloth had caught on her ear cuff … Ryss caught back the despairing sob and raised one hand to her ear while using the other to still hold up the cloth, not allowing the slightest tension to bear upon it.

She tried to release the ornament one-handed, but try as she would the catch proved elusive, behind the folds of the material.

Themron’s sharp voice rebuked her, “What are you doing A’tice 2?”

For such was the way apprentices were addressed, more commodities than persons, more parts of a whole than individuals.

“SpinMaster, I was just … I held it up to see the colour and check the fibers … ,” she faltered to a halt as he gave a snort of derision before coming to stand before her.

“Indeed, others before you have been seduced by the Markelen; stand perfectly still now, do not move any part of yourself.”

He inserted both his hands under the folds and Ryss barely felt the movement of his fingers at her ears.

“Brace yourself,” he had barely finished the words before she felt a tug and release on the curve of her ear.

It was done, the cloth was free.

But Themron was shaking his head; he had the cuff in one hand and the sloth in his other.

“Oh, fate, oh stars, oh Mother,” he let his breath out in one long sigh of despair; one thread at the very edge had broken off short, maybe two inches short, but it now hung limp and the warp to its weft was laddered for quite a length.


Do we have any spare spindles A’tice2?

No, Master, none at all. We used up the last to make the christening robe for Lord Sellwy’s babe, that was a rush order done yesterday. There’s no more filament until the next harvest, three and half moons hence.

Hmmm have we any older robes due for fiber replacement, can we take a fiber from any?

Ryss wrung her hands in denial, “Nay, none that have fibers this length, it needs twelve cubits and more for this one.”

“What whimsy is there in fashions now that needs change so drastically?”

Sir, it is for a most noble Lady, and goes straight to Lord Liefel’s dwelling tonight. Perhaps a sheet for the canopy, perchance for the babe to be? Sure enough we were not told the purpose, except that it was last this ordered before Lord Liefel himself was born.

Then ‘twill matter little if we make one small knot in the edge, hand me that crystal child and those canisters on that shelf there. He removed a pouch with tiny silver implement and spent minutes choosing the correct one.

He rubbed the crystals together over the canisters and a cherry red blaze of light spilled out, he passed the silvery implement through that before touching it lightly over the damaged portion.

The thread appeared to leap up and attach itself to its broken end, pulling taut the material until there was no gap to be seen, not even on close perusal. There had been just a few more strands to be tied at the edge, his dextrous fingers finished in a minute what would have taken her an hour of care.

Themron pinched the bridge of his nose and contemplated the fabric; he appeared to be satisfied for he put it down with no further words?

He pulled his cloak about himself, if position was a seductive promise, responsibility was a cold and harsh mistress.

“Speak of this to no one A’tice2. Not the breaking, not how it can be mended without sign, not that it happened unless I ask you to speak.”

He muttered softly, so softly Ryss barely heard him, but she had sharp ears.

“The day will come to speak the words for false witness is not our way”

Pack it child, and send it off by the messenger immediately one has one’s prime duty to be obeyed, all else comes later.


Raina! A messenger from the House of Ness was here! I was sure there was a mistake but he said this was for the Lady Negara. Do you know anything of this? Mica never said a word to me and these robes do not come cheap …

Crona stopped, Raina was shifting back and forth in her chair, twisting the ends of the shawl thrown over her shoulders.

So, you do know something … is it to be a surprise for the Lady then?

Raina’s plae cheeks were even paler than usual, her lips barely parted as she murmured, “It is mine.”

Yours? Yours? Yours.

Crona looked at her sister in bewilderment, for Raina’s attire was of the simplest. The minimum that was required to clothe a damsel in adequate modesty was the way her wardrobe was ordered. Not one embellishment, not a ribbon or a coloured thread, no flounces or frills, nor fringe. No trailing sleeves, no ruffs and scarves, never had she seen Raina choose anything that might have been classed as adornment.

It was not something that one questioned, Raina just was her sweet simple self, one came away not raving of her beauty but just pleased to have been with her, not quite knowing why.

But, why then would she have need of the most expensive and exclusive makers of clothing, a name spoken of with an indrawn breath of awe.

Raina’s serene face broke into its rare dimpling smile, “I think I have done the impossible – rendered my sister speechless!” One hand reached out and tugged at a ringlet of Crona’s hair, the grey in those strands was not enough to subdue the rush of emotion evoked by that loving gesture.

“Oh, Raina, I wish you to have whatever your heart desires – but when did you start desiring this …? And how can you afford it?”

“Sister trust me. It is not desire but need that has commissioned this piece. As for money, I have more than enough if required, I spend so little of what Lord Liefel generously makes allowance to me. But, it is the Lord himself who paid for this.”

“Then it is for the Lady, nay, you said not. And Mica paid?”

Rona, I shall not do you the discourtesy of thinking that you might be questioning our Lord’s motif, the quiet reproof prevented Crona from leaping to the what would have been a logical conclusion if it had been any two others, not Mica or Raina. So Crona thought well before she exclaimed in a tone of sudden revelation, “It is something to do with the well-being of our people, our land.”

“Yes, dearest. That is all I can tell you and you are to tell none other, I seek your binding vow.”

Oh, Raina, you know I would not, but if it makes you feel better – here …”

And Crona extended her hand over Raina’s head and solemnly intoned, “I swear never to give this knowledge to any other.”

Then she grinned at her sister, “Now open up the parcel so I can feast my eyes on what it contains … the House of Ness and all.”

The parcel was small, ordinary, a plain hessian wrapped bundle. It is always thus, that of great value needs no embellishment to proclaim its worth, the most beautiful woman needs no artifice to be acclaimed as such, no rich garments or jewellery. So too did the House of Ness never send its wares packed in beribboned emblazoned and velvet lined boxes – tissue to protect, coarse brown sacking covers were their trademark.

Of course, the sacking would have been boiled and cleaned, then restored to crisp wiry strengths, even coated with sweet smelling resins to repel moths and other insects. It was like a nobleman disguising himself as a peasant, there was no way he would actually step into the reeking and flea infested authentic garments, but what he wore would be carefully crafted to resemble those whilst still being just a shade more comfortable, made of finer linen, with linings and underkirtles designed for his comfort.

The parcel opened to revel a a few layers of tissue and past those, just a folded length of dull grey cloth, albeit of soft fine material.

“This is it? All those Gold pise for a bolt of ashcloth? How rich must funeral raiment be?”

“’Tis not funerary cloth, ‘tis for other purposes entirely. But it must be held or worn or intimately used by someone for it to shine – see ...”

Raina lifted the cloth from the tissue in which it had been nestled. She unfolded it carefully and let the length flow over her knees. It glittered and glowed now, gaining in brilliance to finally shimmer blue-green-gold and purple, all the colours of the rainbow barring red.

Here, she held out to Crona, drawing her forward when she made as if to back away.

She looped a coil over her shoulders and Crona put up her hands as the two bands on either side became a rich shimmering amber and chocolate, like the swirling depths of a cauldron simmering with chocolate caramel goldies, their favourite childhood treat.

Crona caught her breath is a hiss of delight, “Oh, Raina, it makes me feel twelve and bright and cheerful.”

“Yes, pretty things tend to do that, even to old maids like us.”

“Who are you calling an old maid? I’ll have you know that Cousin Elleer took to husbanding when she was eighty-three. I shall be a young maid until I am buried!”

“Well, give me leave to style myself one, then. I’ll have none to husband, for men are either fools or knaves.” Raina tossed her head of black hair and it swirled around her shoulders like a cape.

“Have a care, what you say behind our Lord’s back could be reported to him, to your discomfort if no less!”

“I have said so to his face too. He only laughed and asked which one he was and I replied that since he did me such open courtesy he must be the former!”

Crona chuckled, “I wish I had been there to see his face!”


Raina took back the folds and held them to the light, looking for breaks which would now show as bright blue streaks if present. Ness vowed to make unbroken pieces, but mistakes could and did happen.

“What do you there?”

See, I look for breaks, for this cloth MUST be one fibre from end to end, it will not repel, never mind that … see that blue dot, right at the edge. I think that one fiber must have been shorter than the others, but it was not a break – that shows clear as a streak, as other fibres are loosened when one breaks.

The one faint blue dot at the very edge of the cloth faded back to ash grey. Anyway, it was almost kissing the strip of legitimate blue ties at the ends, where the strands had been tied off.

As she repacked the folds of cloth, Raina glanced at her sister, “I cannot speak of what I know not - I dare not speak with endangering the future, if I could tell anyone, it would be you … but …”

Crona patted her sister’s hand, Very well, dear one. It shall be as you please. My sister Raina shall have this too to her credit, that one this subject I shall henceforth be as if rendered speechless.

But sometimes Raina, I think you and I make a perfect combination with our differing natures and skills, your precongnitive Seeing and Casting Skills and my empathetic Reading and Healing skills. Each is less that half of the whole, the whole is more than the sum of its parts.

A wink showed that no offence was intended, an answering twinkle showed that none was taken.

Raina, caught up the parcel and prepared to depart, looking back over her shoulder at the door, “And Crona, remember this –if the whole can be more than the sum of its parts, the part can be more than just a fraction. It might be a whole, for some other reason.”

Then she whisked her self out, Crona worried only about how late dinner would be if she did not get a move one.
dom4}