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As Allabva finished arranging her hair that evening, a knock sounded at the door, tapped in the familiar pattern that she was waiting to hear.
“Mother, I’m leaving,” she called to the other room, where she could hear Mellier’s protests against his preparations. “Brelin is here.” Allabva opened the door to see her friend standing on the doorstep.
“Okay,” Mother replied.
“I want to go with Allabva and Brelin,” Mellier said.
“You’re not even dressed,” Mother countered.
“I’m almost ready. They just need to wait.”
“No, they won’t wait. They have to get there early to rehearse the Greenstones’ Dance.”
Allabva rolled her eyes at her brother’s antics, then smiled at Brelin. “Let’s go!”
The two of them strolled through the village, happily joking about their favorite young men they expected to see at the Observance. They watched the sun lowering in the west as the shadows lengthened around them and their conversation came to the here and now.
“I’m so glad it’s not hot like it was earlier today,” Allabva said.
“What do you mean? It wasn’t hot.”
“Oh.” Allabva blinked, thinking. “I guess you’re right. Well, I was hot because I had to walk up to Pine Canyon and gather rosemary, but I was still wearing what I put on this morning against the cold.”
“I love your dress, though,” Brelin complimented. “The piping looks very nice, especially with that green-and-purple combination. I know Delgan won’t be able to stay away.”
“Thank you, but it definitely doesn’t hold a candle to yours, Brel. Your white bodice with gold accents really brings out your dark brown hair. I wish I had hair like that. Alvern will love it, too.” Allabva punctuated this by poking Brelin in the ribs.
“Like mine? But my hair is so normal.”
“Yes, nice and straight. It looks so lush.”
“Allie.” Brelin turned her head to deliver the line. “Allie, your hair is gorgeous.”
“And so much trouble.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Brelin insisted. “Almost exotic. The curls are dignified.”
“If you say so, Brel.” Allabva stopped fighting it, taking time to appreciate the beauty of the route they walked.
The houses and shops they passed showed an aesthetic sensibility that reflected the town’s status in the region. The Cleft lay somewhat isolated and protected from main industry, far enough away from the sea, its position above the confluence of the five creeks into the Night River making it irrelevant for shipping goods to other lands. All the same, it received visitors often enough that the residents of the Cleft were conscious of the world around them. Consequently, there was an air of caring about what they presented to the world, without crowding out the local culture in favor of sameness.
Each building was either of brick or wood, material from mud and trees being readily available in the area, and often painted in pastel shades with the occasional deeper red or yellow hue, and roofed with thatch from the creek banks. Home fronts were generally kept clean, and signage announcing commercial enterprises in the town were reserved in appearance, giving an atmosphere of tranquil living but with no dearth of services available, should one need a shoe repaired or somewhere to buy a new coat.
The two young women arrived at the town square as the cool of the spring evening set in, and they sought out Churloe Tunnigan, the Mistress of Ceremonies for the evening. They quickly found her surrounded by the other young men and women whose year it was for the Crossing at Greenstone Observance.
“Girls—pardon me, young ladies—I’m glad to see you could make it for the most important day this year, as far as you should be concerned. Place yourselves over there with your fellow Greenstones, behind the Tonalstga twins.”
Allabva and Brelin joined the Tonalstgas in a double line at one corner of the green in front of the town hall, with the line extending along the side of the building, and stood with their feet apart, clasped hands resting in front of them. They could see some of the young men on the other end of the building façade, with the line disappearing from view along the opposite side of the building. Mistress Tunnigan scurried back and forth, ensuring the young people found the correct places and remembered their parts in the evening’s ceremonies.
With this year’s prospective ceremonial graduates into adulthood taking up two corners on one side of the square, Mistress Tunnigan had a lectern set up in one corner across the green in front of the building, and there was a small orchestra of musicians setting up their instruments in the remaining corner. As those participating in the ceremony prepared themselves, other helpers set up rows of tables and chairs on the cobblestones in front of the green, pulling them out of the town hall, which did not have enough space indoors for this evening’s activities.
“Allie, look!” Brelin whispered with a furtive glance across the front of the town hall. Allabva looked across the way and nearly blushed as she saw Delgan’s eyes jerk away from her and back to Master Tunnigan, who was addressing the young men at the moment. Allabva quickly turned her own gaze back to Brelin.
“Brel, we’re not supposed to be talking right now. Just look forward.”
“Allie, look again. We’re not standing in the right spots if you want to dance with him.”
Allabva stole a glance over to the young men again. It was true. The dance they would perform for the town was choreographed so that it would pair each girl with a boy depending on her place in line. It didn’t affect anything else in the ceremony, nor after, but one’s position in line determined her partner during this routine. She rolled her eyes and smiled back to Brelin.
“That doesn’t matter. It’s just a ceremony, and you wind up with whomever you line up across from.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to make it a bit nicer, does it?”
“Shh.” Allabva talked out of the corner of her mouth, looking forward and hoping her face didn’t give away her eagerness. “No,” she admitted.
“That’s what I thought.” Brelin unsuccessfully tried to hide a conspiratorial grin. “Don’t worry, Brel’s got you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gir—young ladies, don’t talk.” Mistress Tunnigan returned to address the double line of young women. “Show the town that you can be grownup and practice some self-discipline, please. Do you understand?”
All the young women nodded in reply.
“Very well. I will be back again before we start.” Mistress Tunnigan walked to her lectern and flipped through some note cards, then went to go talk to the bandleader.
Brelin didn’t stop. “I mean I’ve got your back, Allie. Don’t worry about it.”
“What—”
“Psst! Aulbwin!”
Allabva closed her eyes shut hard, trying to convince yourself this wasn’t happening. “No, leave the Tonalstgas out of this!” she whispered sharply but almost inaudibly.
Brelin ignored her. Some people just didn’t want help, but she would provide it, anyway. “Aulbwin! Yalrou!”
Aulbwin turned her head slightly. “Leave us alone.”
“Just trade us places,” Brelin said. “Quick, while she’s not looking.”
“I said leave us alone.” Aulbwin apparently didn’t want Brelin’s mischievous nonsense, either.
“Come on—” Brelin stopped abruptly as Mistress Tunnigan finished her conversation with the bandleader and walked back to face the group of girls.
“Girls.” She spoke flatly, a serious tone conveying the weight of the matter in her opinion. “You’re still girls until after this. Then you’ll be women—when this is over. Until then, be on your best behavior. Show us all that you’re ready for this important step. You are our future, after all.” She took a deep breath to punctuate her message, then turned around to walk back to her lectern.
As soon as Mistress Tunnigan’s back was turned, Brelin leaned forward towards the Tonalstga sisters. “Come on. It doesn’t matter to you, but it does to us. Just swap us places. I’ll give you half my dessert at dinner.”
Yalrou turned her head. “All of it.”
“Three quarters.”
Yalrou stepped to the side and back, opening her spot for Allabva. At the same time, Aulbwin looked at her sister with surprise, then followed suit. Brelin shot Allabva a satisfied grin as she stepped forward into her new spot, and Allabva, flustered, now fully blushing, sheepishly stepped forward into hers. All was done in a moment.
Mistress Tunnigan arrived at her lectern and turned, facing at an angle towards the crowd with a few stragglers now taking their seats. She shot a last look at her husband standing next to the orchestra, who gave a thumbs-up accounting for the boys. She looked back at the girls, but appeared not to notice the last-minute swap. Then she looked to the audience.
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