It took a moment for her words to sink in. Weavers was the nickname given to the Denai with weaving abilities. They were able to make a pot that would never boil over or silverware that would never tarnish by weaving power into their items during construction. I had seen some of the items first hand in the Citadel’s kitchen.
“Do you ever weave hate or fear into them?” I asked cautiously.
Her eyes darkened angrily, “That would be abusing the gifts that God gave me and I would never do that.” Her voice became louder, almost a shout as she ranted, “I only weave light, not darkness! Never darkness! The dark does not like to be ignored, and its call is sweet like honey, but it will devour you whole and spit you out.” Her anger rose and then quickly dissipated when she saw my obvious distress at her tone. Her voice lowered and she seemed to regain clarity and looked around warily. “Not saying someone else couldn’t do it, but I won’t do it. And no one can make me.” She seemed as if she knew from experience and which may have brought on her moment of insanity.
“Please don’t take offense.” I held my hand out to her, palms up as if I was soothing a frightened animal. “I should have known better than to question your methods. Your work is beautiful and I would never wish to insult you, but my curiosity at the wonder of what you can do made me speak without thinking.” I put every ounce of comfort into my voice, trying to soothe the woman who seemed so close the edge of reason.
The women visibly softened.
“Ah child; don't let old Ruzaa's bark worry you. I do get a little irrational about my gift sometimes. Once, long ago, a terrible man thought I could weave a potion to force people do his bidding.” She looked tired and worn out as she went on, “I was even been beaten as he tried to force my hand to work dark and evil things into potion form.” She held up her hands and I could see the white mangled tissue of faded burn marks around her hands. “I wouldn’t do it. That would be compromising my values. To give in, to take something that was meant for good and use it to do evil is a sin. And I refused. They could’ve killed me for all I cared.” Her gaze turned steely in determination before flicking to a movement over my shoulder. She dropped her hands and hid them behind her apron. I turned but saw nothing.
My heart lurched with a feeling of empathy. Here was a survivor, a kindred heart, someone who had lived through unbearable circumstances and arose to live on. I had more in common with this unstable female than anyone I had met in Calandry.
“Ruzaa, stay strong, never change who you are for anyone.” I reached for her hand under her apron and held it in such a way as to expose my own scars. Ruzaa’s eyes widened with understanding, and she looked up at me as tears sparkled in both of our eyes. A bond between two survivors formed; one old, one young.
Avina, not understanding the exchange, finally spoke up with her childish exuberance. “What about getting a boy to kiss you? I could really use something like that!” Ruzaa laughed out loud and I smiled at the excited look on Avina’s freckled face, when my gaze was drawn to the flowers that were drying and hung around posts from the booth. An idea struck me.
“Ruzaa. What about dyes? Can any of your flowers be used for dyes? I’m looking for a gift for the Citadel’s head seamstress, Berry. I would love to give her something to experiment with and get a color that no one else has?”
Her aged eyes grew thoughtful as she pulled a plant that resembled holly and was a rich deep blue. She put it in a small cinch sack. “Try this. I would say she could get a wonderful deep blue and some indigo. But here is a secret.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Whatever garment she makes with this dye, the wearer will always have feelings of hope.” She winked at me. I couldn’t help myself. I hugged her with delight, almost knocking her over. Ruzaa’s surprised laughter stayed with me as I carried my small prize with me down the street. She had even given me a wonderful deal on my present. Avina, who was very patient during this exchange, was now buzzing with excitement.
“You know she’s crazy right?” Avina whispered in a hushed voice, hoping that Ruzaa wouldn’t overhear.
“Aren’t we all?” I answered back.