All of the childings froze instantly. I was impressed. Either those childings thought Mr. Ajani and Mrs. Turner were fearsome people, or else they really, really liked being the ones who stabled Wash’s horse.
Wash dismounted, and the professor and I followed. “Now, then,” Wash said, studying the group. “Jefferson, Siri, Martin, why don’t you take the horses, and Chrissy can follow to make sure you do a good job.” He winked at the littlest childing, who straightened up proudly. “Lattie, if you would go tell Mr. Ajani —”
One of the girls stepped forward, scowling. “Who are they?” she demanded, waving at Professor Torgeson and me. “Why did you bring them? They’re Avrupans!”
“No, we’re not,” I said without thinking.
Lattie stuck her nose up in the air. “I wasn’t talking to you. And you are so Avrupan.”
“Professor Torgeson is from Vinland,” I said. “I’m Columbian, same as you.”
The girl looked confused; Wash looked like he was trying to hide a smile. “What are you talking about?” Lattie asked suspiciously.
“You were born here in Promised Land, right?” I said. Lattie nodded warily. “Promised Land is in the North Plains Territory,” I went on. “The North Plains Territory is part of the United States of Columbia. I was born out East, in Helvan Shores, but that’s still in the United States. So we’re both Columbians.”
“Now you’ve got that settled,” Wash broke in, “I’m thinking you’d best go let Mr. Ajani and Mrs. Turner know we’re here, Lattie.”
Lattie gave me one more resentful look, then ran off. “That was an interesting argument,” Wash said to me once she was out of hearing.
I smiled, remembering. “Lan and I had that exact same discussion with William, back when we were ten and he was nine. William argued a lot longer, but he’s always been stubborn.”
A few minutes later, we saw Lattie approaching with a man and a woman. The man’s hair was short and snow white, and there was a grayish undertone to his dark skin that made it look like a cloth that’s been washed so often that the color’s started to fade. His companion looked to be a few years older than Wash. Her hair was still solid black, and she had it gathered up in a ball at the nape of her neck; her skin was about four shades lighter than her hair, more brown than black. They had the sort of look about them that made me want to check that my collar was straight and my hair wasn’t windblown.
As they came up to us, a shiver ran all down my spine and a coolness spread across my chest. It felt familiar, but I couldn’t place it. At that exact minute, the woman gave me a sharp look.
“Mr. Ajani, Mrs. Turner,” Wash said, nodding politely. “It’s good to see you again.”
“I am always glad to see you, Mr. Morris,” the older man replied. “Even when you come to tell me of my most unsatisfactory grandchildren.” His voice was deep and precise, and his eyes had a twinkle that told me he didn’t mean that the way it sounded.
“Those would be the same grandchildren you spoil unmercifully whenever they’re here?” the woman said.
“The very same,” Mr. Ajani said, smiling. “I find it most unsatisfactory that they do not spend more time listening to their grandfather.”
The woman just rolled her eyes. “Who have you brought to meet us, Wash?” she asked, with a pointed look at Mr. Ajani.
“This is Professor Aldis Torgeson and her assistant, Miss Eff Rothmer,” Wash said. “Mr. Ajani, Mrs. Isabel Turner.”
“Torgeson?” Mrs. Turner said when we were all done murmuring pleased-to-meet-you. “From Scandia?”
“Vinland,” Professor Torgeson said.
Mrs. Turner smiled and nodded, and asked if we’d come inside out of the sun. Mr. Ajani led the way down a few steps into one of the houses. Inside it was as cool as a root cellar, even though it wasn’t anywhere near as deep or dark. The windows were a little higher up than I was accustomed to. The floor was made of flat rocks fitted together, with a big rag rug in the indent, and a wooden wall split the inside of the house into two parts. The front room, where we came in, was plainly for cooking and eating and talking, just like Rennie’s house; I figured the back part would be the sleeping rooms, though we didn’t see them.
We sat on wooden benches around a plain table with a white tablecloth over it. Mrs. Turner brought out some cups and a pitcher of cool water, then fussed around with plates and biscuits and fixings, while Mr. Ajani asked the professor very politely why we were out riding circuit with Wash.
The professor explained about the survey of plants and animals west of the Great Barrier Spell, and Mr. Ajani got interested right away. Next thing we knew, the two of them were hip deep in talking and it looked as if we wouldn’t ever find out why the settlement had sent a message out asking for Wash.
Mrs. Turner sat down at last and passed a honey jug. She looked at Mr. Ajani and shook her head, but she had a bit of a smile, too. “He never changes,” she said to Wash. “Now, as it appears we’ll be a time getting to business, maybe you’ll tell me more about your student here.” And she nodded at me.
I couldn’t help staring, though I knew it was rude. And then I recollected Wash saying, “That pendant only moves one way. Teacher to student,” and suddenly I knew that Mrs. Turner had something similar. I’d felt it when I first saw her, and she must have felt mine. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt that shiver, either; there was that woman in West Landing, too, only I hadn’t known then what it meant. It made sense that there would be more than one, if the pendant was a tool for teaching. I just hadn’t thought about it before.
Mrs. Turner’s eyes flicked to me just once, then held steady on Wash, but I knew she was aware of every move I made. I froze, the same way the childings had at the mention of her name, though I wasn’t sure why. I just knew that I didn’t want any more of her attention than I already had, and I had a sight more than she was letting on in public.
“She’s more Miss Maryann’s student than mine,” Wash said calmly.
Both Mrs. Turner’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t say anything. She just kept on looking at Wash. Wash smiled. “Five years at the day school in Mill City,” he said.
“You think that’s more important?”
“I do when it’s Miss Maryann.”
“She agreed with you?”
“After.”
“When it was too late,” Mrs. Turner said.
“I didn’t say she was best pleased by it.” Wash sounded right irritated, though I couldn’t have said why.
“I see.” Mrs. Turner gave a small sigh. “I do hope you know what you’ve done.”
“After nigh on thirty years, I’d hope so, too,” Wash said, looking back at Mrs. Turner just as steady as she’d been looking at him.
By that point, I was getting as irritable as Wash sounded. I’d only just met Mrs. Turner, and I didn’t see that she had any call to disapprove of me yet. It wouldn’t have been polite to say anything, though, and besides, I was a little nervous of giving her a real reason to dislike me, so I sat up straight and put on my company manners and sipped at my water, pretending they were talking about someone else and I wasn’t interested in the least.
There was the sound of a throat clearing. “Isabel,” said Mr. Ajani in the same warning tone that I remembered Papa using when Robbie and Lan and Jack were starting to get out of hand.
Mrs. Turner hesitated, then sat back. “All right, if you insist,” she said.
“I do,” Mr. Ajani said firmly. “We didn’t ask for Mr. Morris’s presence in order to scold him for decisions that were his to make in the first place.”
“I’m right happy to hear that,” Wash said. “And I confess to a considerable curiosity as to why you did ask me to drop by.”