The Violet Thread (Part One: Portal Rods)

Chapter Four

When Violet awoke the next morning, it took her a moment to remember where she was. The slight rocking of the boat on the water had given her dreams of sleeping in a canopy high in the treetops. She felt well rested despite the discussion that went late into the night. She stretched her legs and rolled her ankles about, checking for any pain from her strain before standing. The muscle had only the slightest feeling that anything had ever been wrong. There were no windows to indicate the time by daylight. She hoped she hadn't been let to sleep too long. She could hear commotion on the deck above and Katia's bedroom door was open and empty. She quickly washed and changed into a loose pair of tan linen pants and a gold top before heading upstairs. Of all the things they had discussed last night, and it had been quite a lot, what to do next had made her the most eager. They were headed north. Katia thought she knew where they would find a working set of portal rods that could get them close to the Oracle's location.

She blinked rapidly as the door creaked open at the top of the stairs and the sun hit her face. It was her momentary blindness that allowed her to be caught off guard by the boys. Wyeth's arms wrapped around her waist and he spun her through the air. Sawyer merely blushed when she returned his bright smile.

"Morning! We have been waiting for you get to up. There are so many plans to make," Wyeth said brightly.

"Breakfast is on the table," Sawyer added just as brightly, but with a little less enthusiasm.

"Mama Kat made it very clear that she was to eat first, Wyeth. Nothing until after she 'fuels up,'" he added in his best impression of Katia.

A small wooden table had been made with crates and wood planks. Two hammocks were still hung on the side of boat and blankets draped out of them. She peered around. There were several other small boats with patchwork sails and brightly colored wood adorned with shiny, metallic chains all caravanning up the river. The water was calm and sparkling a crystal blue. The trees lining the river were varying hues of bright green and swayed ever so slightly in the light summer breeze.

"Where is Katia?" Violet asked sitting at the table in front of an unused plate.

"She had to meet with with the other boat mistresses to discuss the alteration of our course." Sawyer said, putting a tray of steaming hot food on the table. "She's already steered us north toward Adlegaurd, but Mama Kat doesn't like to just make decisions for the fleet without meeting.

"Even though she could," Wyeth added, picking up an apple and taking a bite. Sitting across from her, he leaned back in the chair and kicked his feet up on the table. Violet scooted the tray of food clear of his heels with the raise of one eyebrow.

"It's wise to allow consultation with your crew, even if your mind's made up. She seems like a very astute woman and a good leader. I assume she is the leader of your group?"

"That she is," Sawyer beamed pridefully. "She's the Guardian of the Fleet. It's a very prestigious title.

"If gypsies cared much for titles," Wyeth chimed in. "It just means that she calls the meetings of the mistresses of each boat and has final say. She settles any disputes between the boats and makes sure everyone follows the code. There aren't a whole lot of laws when it comes to the gypsies, mainly customs and old traditions. We like our freedom."

"The mistresses of the boats?" Violet asked in between mouthfuls of food. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until her first bite.

"Each boat has a mistress in charge of its course, cargo, and family. Each runs her own ship with her own rules. While the fleet usually stays together, technically anyone can go their own way, except the Guardian that is. Wyeth makes light of Mama Kat's role, but really she is what holds this group together. She runs a tight fleet and there hasn't been a single unsettled discord as long as I can remember. She's tough, but fair." Sawyer said, taking a seat next to her and knocking Wyeth's feet so hard he fell backwards in his chair, hitting the deck.