The Legacy of Telmar (The Telmar Trilogy, Volume 3)

Chapter 2--The Giving House and The Outskirts

With a laugh, Melanie walked out onto the road to see if she could identify where in Nast she was, but as before, she did not recognize the terrain she saw.

Melanie saw deep-rutted roads and dilapidated farms; in many places there were dry, barren trees and fields. She remembered her lessons on Telmarine history of how, two hundred years before she first arrived, there had been a nationwide famine. It certainly looked like the beginning stages of a famine here. Could it be she had gone back in time?

Melanie looked toward the sun, shining just behind her; it had recently passed its zenith, and begun its descent. Melanie figured it to be about three o'clock in the afternoon. Since the sun was behind her, toward the sun would be west, and the direction she now faced was east. She faced the sun. North—the direction she knew she needed to travel to reach town, was on her right hand. She looked up and down the road on which she stood, searching for a northbound lane. She saw one a ways down, conveniently marked by a strange hut-like building. Melanie approached this house curiously.

A cleverly painted sign above the door identified the establishment as a "Giving House," illustrated for the illiterate by a picture of a woman giving food and cloth to a man.

Melanie smiled. A giving-house! Why, she had written out plans for giving-houses before she left! Perhaps she had not gone back in time after all, but forward. Perhaps the "early famine" she witnessed was only a bad year for crops.

Melanie walked inside.

"Good day t'ye!" a cheery voice called as she entered.

"Good day," Melanie returned, scanning the shelves and crates for the items she needed.

The girl to whom the cheery voice belonged, a happy, round-faced redhead, came out from the corner where she had been restocking the shelves.

"D'ye have aught to trade?" she asked Melanie.

Melanie shook her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that—"

The girl waved away her words kindly. "And a fine givin' 'ouse this'd be if we didn't give things fer free! Daen't ya fret about it; take what ye likes!" The girl gestured generously around the shop. She then turned back to Melanie and peered at the girl's face. "Ehh, just when Ah thinks Ah knows me patrons, a new face comes trapsin' in the door. What's yer name, lass?"

Melanie finally found what she was looking for: a hooded cape. As she fastened it around her neck, she began to reply, "Mela—" she stopped mid-answer, deciding suddenly to keep her identity a secret, at least for the present time.

"Well, Mella," the girl said, "M'name's Satchelle, and I'm much obliged to make yer acquaintance."

Melanie smiled at this talkative girl. "Tell me, Satchelle," she said, "Where are you from? I know by your voice that you are not Telmarine."

Satchelle laughed. "Aich, no! Very nearly, but not a full Telmarine. Ma grandfather immigrated from the Nairth near fifty years ago, and we've lived here ever since."

"How long have you owned this giving-house?" Melanie asked, for one of her ideas had been for the proprietors of the giving houses to also own them.

"This house was given to my grandfather by auld Laird Steward, Sir Taurin himsel'!" Satchelle announced proudly.

Melanie smiled as she heard the name of her friend spoken with such reverence. "And has it had good business?"

Satchelle shrugged, and just at that moment, a young boy dashed into the house and began grabbing things off the shelves.

"'Ere noo," Satchelle cried in her thick Northern accent, "Brion! Where be ye ga'ng like a roosh o' mad dogs w's on ye?"