Larkspur Mittel: The Lark & Owl Trilogy

29 - Woven

The children hesitantly followed Pa-nush and Marcus into the yellow-doored hut and were astonished to find themselves surrounded by objects carefully sculpted out of fen reed. Reed in every shape, form and color. All woven into figures that sat on the shelves, table, chairs and floor and hung from the ceiling like so many stars.

"What is this place?" Hero whispered, ducking below a prickly looking fish that hung by the door.

"History of the fen, his laboratory," Marcus whispered back.

The hut was absolutely cluttered. Long boats, beetles, fish and other creatures of the fen which were surprisingly true to life filled every corner. Laughing masks, ponies, orchids, and tiny, delicate hearts. All expertly lashed, spliced and woven by Samoht's skilled hand with the long, dried reeds he'd collected from the fen.

The children marveled at the lively world, and though Hero would have loved to reach out to touch one of the objects, she feared Samoht's peculiar temper and so only admired them.

"Who made these?!" Adelmus asked.

He was about to grasp a hanging butterfly, but Hero shook her head for him to leave it alone. He brought his hand back down quickly.

Samoht turned on him.

"Who made these?! Who do you think you dull-minded lark child?!" He barked at Adelmus.

"Ah, it's a logical 'nuff question, the boy is just curious! Our friend Dillabomba is a skilled weaver lads, and known for his work all over fen country!"

Samoht grunted, and roughly shoved aside the many figures that sat on the table, throwing them to the floor.

"Rejects!" He said, and picked up a broom (a woven one), brushing everything into the fireplace where they cracked and burned in an instant.

"And how is the Mistress of the Fen?" Pa-nush took off his big, floppy hat and bowed before a life-size figure of a woman sitting in a real chair.

They children hadn't seen her at first, as she sat in shadow to the right of the fireplace. A fresh garland of tender white and yellow flowers had been placed carefully on her head, and her face was woven with thin, flesh-toned reeds so that she looked almost real, almost beautiful thought Hero.

"She says ye must hurry- there's a danger near. Come now and eat!"

They took their seats (Ivan nearly sat on a woven snail) while Samoht plonked two warm loaves of bread and a tureen of lode-fish soup on the table. He ladled out the hearty broth into bowls, splashing and making a mess. He broke off and handed them each big chunks of the steaming bread as well.

"We've had some visitors in the last days, have we not Pancake?"

The vigilant pup sat at attention at Samoht's feet. She'd wiped clean her own bowl of soup, and barked in response to his question.

"And some of 'em not so nice, isn't that right?"

Pancake barked again, and growled. She then went around the table and curled up at Aggie's feet.

"Visitors?" Pa-nush asked.

Samoht glared across at the four lark children, wary of their intentions. But when his eyes fell upon Hero, he spoke again.

"Most recent was an old beggar wrapped in shawls who came through two mornings ago. Tried to fool me, but I'd say he was a schooled owl by his accent. Red and white beard. Asked if by any chance, we'd seen any lark children about? A girl with a what's it, a bag? Ha! There's no skelpie-limmers here we told him, not in the Fen!"