The Pond Part 11

Izolda was growing restless; her need for a life beyond the village was growing. She was fifteen now, and she had come to an unpleasant conclusion. There were no apprenticeships for girls, no fostering between villages. Her only escape would be through marriage.

This meant she would have to give up her solitude and become more visible. Instead of wandering the forest paths alone, she would need to join one of the groups of girls that gathered herbs together. She would need to ingratiate herself with the girls who visited the nearby villages to exchange weaving techniques or have stitching gatherings.

This was going to be a huge sacrifice, as far as Izolda was concerned. She was an indifferent weaver, at best, and she did not care for stitching at all. As for becoming one of those girls she often scorned, she shuddered at the thought. But if she’d learned nothing from Varnya, it was that sacrifices must be made to reach your goals.

And so Izolda embarked on a course of action to become more involved in village life, to gain friends, and to become visible. And if she used a touch of magic to make herself more popular, then who was to know except herself?

Olga couldn’t help but notice this change in her daughter. It was difficult not to. The girl had always been somewhat of a loner and now, now she seemed to be always at the center of a hub of activity. This should have pleased her, she had always worried that Izolda spent too much time in her own company, but this new Izolda gave her an uneasy feeling.

“Perhaps I was wrong, giving her the power of seven,” she admitted to her mother.

“Why did you?”

Olga looked at her shamefacedly. “I was angry with Andrei, always so superior, so sure of himself.”

“Did you not wish for a daughter, one with power?”

“Yes, but—” Olga hesitated. It was true, she longed for a daughter but Andrei was so intent on getting his seven sons she’d worried that he would want no more children after that, so she’d used her magic to ensure she’d have her girl.

“Then you got your wish, what more is there?”

They both turned to watch Izolda as she sat chatting and sewing in a circle of girls. On the surface, everything seemed as it should be. Izolda was like any other girl, tall and slender, her dark hair bound up on her head, bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief as she teased one of the older girls about her upcoming betrothal. But there was something below the surface . . .

“It’s just . . . this change in her has come on so suddenly. One day she was avoiding the others, the next day she’s right in the thick of them. Do you—you don’t think she’s using magic to influence them, do you?”

Her mother laughed at her fears. “I think it’s highly unlikely. Although the girl has power to spare, she would have to have enough to influence several at a time so that no one questions her acceptance.”

“I—I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. Besides, using magic on others is forbidden, even Izolda knows that. Rest your fears, daughter. She is finally becoming the daughter you always wished for instead of the mouse hiding in the corner.”

Still, Olga was troubled as she watched her daughter. As though she could feel her mother’s eyes on her, Izolda raised her head from her work. Her eyes met her mothers and she smiled a bright, happy smile.

Olga’s fears seemed to melt away. She smiled back at her daughter and Izolda went back to work, answering a question one of the others posed. Of course everything was all right. Izolda was popular because she was a kind, generous girl. There was nothing amiss here.