Mother Berchte shrugged without missing a stitch. "It's your life."
Jeweline pulled the hauberk over her head, leaving wide streaks of rust in her hair, and hurried for the cave's entrance. At the last moment she turned back. "Thank you," she said sincerely, and left. Mother Berchte watched her go.
Nassirskaegi bleated once.
" Sunrise, I expect," Berchte answered.
Something clinked and clanked at the mouth of the cave. Jeweline entered, sword at her side, battered mail revealing more than it probably should. She was covered with cuts, scratches, and bruises, and her movements were stiff. Behind her, the sun was chasing the last of the stars away from the pale blue sky.
"Didn't work, did it?" Mother Berchte said mildly. Knit one, purl two. Knit one, purl two.
"You tricked me," Jeweline cried. "This shirt is worthless! If Father Fluss hadn't given me flashflowers to blind the bastards, I would have been killed."
"I told you not to take it, girl," Mother Berchte growled. Jeweline opened her mouth to protest, but Berchte cut her off. "Let me guess. You thought that the best shirt in the bunch would be disguised as a rusty piece of junk. You thought this was some stupid fairy tale to put the kiddies to sleep."
Jeweline snapped her mouth shut and set her jaw. "I just want to get my sisters away from those… men."
"Then do something sensible," Mother Berchte scoffed. "The first lesson you have to learn is never settle for less than the best."
Jeweline squared her shoulders. "All right." She shrugged out of the rusty mail shirt, marched over to the wall of mail, and chose another, one tightly knitted from the stoutest steel, yet light enough to wear easily. A two-headed eagle glowered defiantly in the design, and the shirt gleamed softly in the firelight as Jeweline pulled it on. Mother Berchte watched with interest.
Knit one, purl two. Knit one, purl two.
"Thank you," Jeweline said curtly, and left.
Nassirskaegi bleated a question.
"Sunset," Berchte replied.
"You filthy, lying old bitch," Jeweline spat before Mother Berchte could say a word. Outside, the sun touched the horizon and turned the clouds a brilliant scarlet. "You told me not to settle for less than the best. Now look at me!"
The mail shirt was bloody and torn, and new scratches tore angry lines down both her arms. Mother Berchte bared her teeth and growled low in her throat at Jeweline's tone of voice, but Jeweline stood firm and matched Berchte's glare. After a moment, Berchte nodded approval.
Knit one, purl two. Knit one, purl two.
"Let me guess," Mother Berchte said. "Father Fluss gave you blastberries to let you get away this time."
Jeweline stared at her. "How did-?"
"I'm not stupid, girlie," Berchte snapped. "But you are. Start paying attention to the pattern and maybe you'll win."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jeweline snapped back. "There isn't any pattern."
"Of course there is. It's why you haven't rescued your sisters yet."
"You're crazy as a cat in a violin shop." Despite the angry snarl in her voice, Jeweline had edged forward until she was right next to Mother Berchte's rocking chair. Her head barely reached Berchte's chest, even though Berchte was seated. Nassirskaegi admired her from his corner and nibbled a bit of hay in an extremely suggestive manner.
"Look for the pattern." Mother Berchte's needles clicked faster and faster until her fingers were a blur. "I've already given you the first lesson: never settle for less than the best. The second lesson is that everything happens in threes. You've had your third visit with Father Fluss, if that pouch at your waist is filled with sleepyseed like I think it is. This is your third visit to me. And in a moment you'll be making your third try to rescue your sisters."
"What about the armor?"
"You've already destroyed two sets, girlie," Berchte grumped. "You're on your own there. I don't knit this stuff for free."
"Is it true that you take your goat to bed with you?" Jeweline asked abruptly.
Berchte stopped knitting for a moment and lashed out a hand. It caught Jeweline squarely across the face. She cried out and stumbled backward to the mouth of the cave.
"Don't be rude," Berchte told her mildly. She tried to pick up her knitting, but ended up staring down at her lap in puzzled astonishment instead.
"Over here," Jeweline called.
"Shit," Berchte muttered into her lap.
"You're good at guessing," Jeweline continued. "I'll bet you can guess what I want next."
Berchte glared across the cave to the entrance where Jeweline was brandishing the missing knitting needle. "Maybe I'll take up crocheting."
"Yeah, right. Come on-you know what I want. Three lessons, three meetings, three rescues. And three shirts."
Berchte met Jeweline's eyes for a long moment. Then she nodded once and jerked her head at the old, rusty hauberk Jeweline had abandoned on the stony floor. It was still rusty, but when Jeweline picked it up, the holes vanished and the rust fell away, revealing glowing chain links that crackled and hummed with power. Jeweline tossed the needle toward Berchte's chair. She snatched it out of midair and slid it back into her knitting.
Knit one, purl two. Knit one, purl two.
"I'd have given it to you anyway, you know," Berchte said.
"Uh huh." Jeweline shrugged out of the ruined shirt and into the good one.
"Like you said," Mother Berchte told her, ignoring the sarcasm, "three visits, three rescues, three shirts. All part of the pattern. You also have to make a third choice."
Jeweline blinked. "What were my first two?"
"To try rescuing your sisters and to seek the help you needed."
"And my third?"
"Whether you want to stay in the pattern or not," Mother Berchte said. "Whether you really want to rescue your sisters."
Jeweline narrowed her eyes warily. "What makes you think I don't?"
"You're the youngest. You're probably the prettiest. And they picked on you all your life because of it, didn't they? Now you're going to show your sisters once and for all that you're the smartest, the bravest, and the most resourceful. Do you honestly think your sisters will be grateful and pile affection on you? That they'll kiss your fingers and beg forgiveness for all the nasty things they've done?" Mother Berchte spat into the fireplace and the flames flared green. "I guarantee you they won't. They'll blame you for the raid. They'll blame you for your brothers' and parents' deaths. And they'll blame you for not rescuing them earlier. Oh yes, girlie-they will."
"I have to rescue them. They're my sisters," Jeweline said stoutly, though there was doubt in her voice.
"And sisters can be the cruelest of all," Mother Berchte said. "They made fun of you for learning swordwork from your brothers, didn't they? They called you names and gossiped about you and spread rumors that you handled your brothers' blades as well as their swords, didn't they?"
Jeweline flushed and looked away.
"Meanwhile," Berchte continued, knitting needles still clicking on her lap, "you have a man waiting for you in the river at the bottom of this mountain. And maybe if you kiss him, you'll see he isn't as ugly as you thought."