Jeanne G'Fellers - Sister Lost, Sister Found Read Online Free PDF

ma’am.”
    “Go to the large chest in the corner and bring me the measure guides and ribbon-tied pack from the bottom.”
    Rankil sprinted to the chest and returned quickly. “Here, ma’am.”
    “Open the pack, child, and tell me what you find.”
    The ribbon unraveled when Rankil pulled on it and the wrapping cloth fell away in ceremonious fashion. “Cloth, ma’am. Am I to sew you a dress?” She stared at the velvet folds, awed by the material’s simple elegance.
    “Does the weave suit you?”
    Rankil shrank back, her fingers loosening from the fabric she normally wouldn’t dared touched. Tessa had a dress of a similar, though not as luxurious, fabric and had once smacked Rankil for touching the hemline. “Oh, no, ma’am, I couldn’t! If Danston found out I had such a thing he’d—”
    “This is your home now!” The old woman’s face drew with frustration. “And I won’t have a young person from my house romping about in rags. Worn things are fine for when you’re mucking the barn, but the rest of the time”—Terry smiled at her— “I want you smartly dressed. Now hold up the fabric so I can check your length.” Rankil held the cloth to her front. It was the perfect shade to complement her pale complexion, the color of trees in high summer, dark and shimmering with morning dew. “Don’t worry about your growth.” Granny Terry drew the cloth across Rankil’s chest. “We can make seams and hems that can be let out as you need them. My, but you’re all leg. Now, let me have the measures so I can size your top.”
    “But, ma’am,” whispered Rankil in fear of speaking out of turn. “You can size from the clothes Meelsa sent me with.”
    “Those clothes are stretched in the belly. They must have been Sallnox’s. They’ll never fit you right. And they didn’t send you with any proper boots either, did they?”
    “No, ma’am.” Rankil blushed.
    “Stars,” Terry could feel the heat burning the young girl’s cheeks. “What’s wrong now? That I noticed or the fact you’ve never had any?”
    “Both, ma’am,” she squeaked.
    “Quit calling me ma’am. I’m your Grandmother Terry, Granny Terry.”
    “Yes, ma—yes, Granny Terry.”
    “Better. The boots are just one of your needs.” Terry motioned for Rankil to bend close. “I believe, young lady,” she said between feels of Rankil’s matted hair, “that you could use a bath and a good cut.”
    “I try to keep it braided back from my face.”
    “You’ve managed a braid of sorts, but your hair is split. I’ll need to cut off most of it to get above the breaks.”
    Rankil gulped. What would happen when her father returned? “Cut my hair? Danston would never let me have short hair! It’s not proper.”
    “Taelachs sometimes do.”
    The remark confused one unfamiliar with Taelach customs and demanded clarity. Rankil sat on the hassock and looked inquiringly at her grandmother. “You know about the Taelach, Granny Terry?”
    Granny Terry’s sightless eyes gave her a long, considering stare, first alarmed and then angered. “Nobody ever told you about you own kind?”
    “Only Archell, and it wasn’t much. He was afraid I would run away.” Rankil pulled a handful of snap beans from the sling-full Terry had picked early that morning and began breaking them into edible portions. She had best keep busy lest Terry lose her indulgent mood. “Granny Terry?”
    “Yes?”
    “You’ve seen Taelachs before?”
    “A few, though not in many passes and never under pleasant conditions. But they’re around. They keep to themselves most of the time. Can’t say as I blame them, either.” Terry brought a cook pot to the table, placed Rankil’s beans in it, then took a seat next to Rankil who stared in wonderment as her grandmother began to help. “Now, you know there are men and there are women. You have enough brothers to know that, don’t you?”
    “Yes.” Rankil slowed her work to listen.
    “All right, Taelachs are all