A Time and a Lace

Part 1: Patterns

  Nasuada glared over the table. Her eyes flashed with an air of absolute authority as she raised her voice, "Be Quiet, woman," Her gaze became as steel, her eyes meeting Trianna's as shock spread across the sorceress's face. "I see I have to teach the Du Vrangr Gata the same lesson I taught the Council of Elders. I may be young, but I am no child to be patronized! I ask about the lace because if you can manufacture it quickly and easily with magic, then we can support the Varden by selling inexpensive bobbin and needle lace throughout the Empire. Galbatorix's own people will provide the funds we need to survive." 

  The conversation continued for several minutes before the sorceress conceded to her authority. In the end, Trianna took her leave, tasked with using the magical abilities of the Du Vrangr Gata to design and manufacture new lace designs of all forms. 

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  Trianna stormed into her tent. Breaking the word to the rest of the group had gone as expected. Indignation and refusal had berated her from all sides. She had found herself in nearly the same position she had placed Nasuada in moments earlier, "SILENCE," she had screamed. The cacophony of voices began to cross over the barrier of mental communication and pushed her to the edge, "This is an order from Nasuada and we will see it completed if we with to maintain our standing within the Varden. I won't hear another word about it." She had spun on her heels, then, wheeling out of the room, her dress flapping behind her as she left the common Du Vrangr Gata tent.

  She collapsed onto her cot. Demoted to common seamstress on the whims of a youngling. Barely even a woman and giving me orders. She huffed and blew a strand of her hair away from her eyes. Although... There was certainly a power behind her words. She could have ordered me to be scullery maid in that tone, and I would have done it without complaint... 

  She sighed and began to lay out multiple spools of fine thread. Normally she used them for stitching wounds when she was out of energy, but surely Nasuada would have more sent to her if she really wanted this scheme to work. White, black, a deep crimson, and some something of a rich purple were all she had at her disposal. Usually she would use the differing colors as an indicator of how deep a wound was under the stitches, but, they should be stronger and more vibrant than any other lace that could be found when they were done. 

  Her experiments were met with multiple problems. The suspension or loss of concentration caused her to ruin stitches multiple times. The intricate details needed to weave the lace strained her incomplete knowledge of the ancient language, and no matter how hard she tried, it was never as easy for her to feel the flow of magic as it was for Eragon and the twins. She found herself drawing upon the rubies in the eyes of her snake bracelet on multiple occasions. The energy inside was supposed to be to make the serpent move, as a party trick, or to scare the uneducated, but it was needed. 

  The hours disappeared in the lightless tent as she continued to weave and experiment. Finally, when she could bear no more, she opened the flap of her tent to allow some light in. It was the dead of night. The unified breath of thousands of sleeping soldiers rose and fell in rhythmic beats as the torches of night watchmen bobbed between the tents. She stood there longer than she normally would have. The amount such a vast expanse would need to thrive was staggering. The amount of food, fresh water, medicine, clothing, payments, armor, weapons, transport... She shook her head and forced herself to stop thinking about it. No wonder Nasuada's wound so tight. I can't blame her. But... If I can complete this task, I may be able to alleviate some of that stress. 

   For the remainder of the night, she perfected the first of what would be many patterns.