eye.
I’m not used to such elegant clothing, that’s all.
That could be the explanation, but still something about the cape made her vision kind of muzzy.
She stood in the center of the snug sitting room, marveling at the feel of her new clothes. Everything—her undergarments, stockings, boots, skirt, blouse, and cape—smelled new. Soft colors of brown, beige, and white enveloped her small frame from shoulders to toes. Kale couldn’t help the grin on her face. She liked looking clean and neat. She’d be warm, and she’d look respectable. But the cape…
Inside the lining, Granny Noon had sewn pockets in two rows down each side of the opening. From her waist to the hem, eight pockets, four on each side, held one dragon egg each. Two deeper pockets hung in the side seams at her hips. Granny Noon called them
hollows
and had Kale stuff them with objects she said were essential for a quest. With all the things they’d slipped into those pockets, the cape should have bulges. It didn’t.
I may not know much, but I know pockets should look full when they’re full.
Granny Noon had explained each item, but the familiar objects had bizarre purposes. Before Granny tucked the last feather into the right side pocket, Kale knew her mind was muddled with bits and pieces of information she didn’t understand. She tried to sort out Granny Noon’s instructions as the others busied themselves with their own preparations.
Dar stood beside an ironing board, pressing out wrinkles in clothes he had washed and dried. Leetu studied the bookshelves, looking for a book to borrow. Granny Noon bustled from cabinets to the table, packing provisions for their journey.
Kale patted the smooth surface of the cape where a “hollow” pocket lay underneath.
The beans will grow breakfast. The dried yellow leaves cure headache. The dried pink leaves cure stomach pain. The twigs tell which way to water. The white feather is a peace token. The black feather signals trouble. The gray feather means “follow me.” What is the little shell for?
Kale stared at the fire trying to remember.
Oh yes, to summon a crow. But I don’t remember why I would want to summon a crow.
She slowly turned her head, watching the others in the room and wondering how she could ask Granny Noon without alerting Dar and Leetu Bends to her inability to remember simple instructions. She could try to speak to Granny Noon’s mind. How could she block Leetu’s hearing and reach Granny?
Her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror, and she snapped to attention. For just an instant, she had seen only her head…
The cape! There
was
something odd about the cape. The light gray fabric shimmered in the light—rippled, really—catching the colors of other things as if the material reflected images like the old mirror on the wall.
Dar broke the comfortable silence of the room. “Granny Noon spun the cloth from moonbeams.”
“Moonbeams!” Kale cried out. “Cloth made from light?” She stroked the smooth, warm fabric, tilting her head to examine it even more closely.
“Dar, you’re incorrigible,” said Granny Noon. She cast a frown in his direction and then looked over her basket at Kale. “It’s a type of bush with round white flowers. Thus the name, moonbeam plant.”
“Why does it look so strange?” She moved her arms to hold the cape away from her body. Squinting, she tried to see what she had seen just a moment before. She sighed, shaking her head in bewilderment. “And then it looks normal.”
“When you move, the material looks like any other cloth,” explained Granny Noon as she went back to wrapping small bundles with gauzy white cloth. “But when you stand still, you blend into your surroundings.”
“I’m invisible?”
“No, not invisible. More like a chameleon, well hidden. And you would need to put up the hood to keep your head and face out of sight.”
Kale reached over her shoulder and pulled up the soft material that lay like a
I’m not used to such elegant clothing, that’s all.
That could be the explanation, but still something about the cape made her vision kind of muzzy.
She stood in the center of the snug sitting room, marveling at the feel of her new clothes. Everything—her undergarments, stockings, boots, skirt, blouse, and cape—smelled new. Soft colors of brown, beige, and white enveloped her small frame from shoulders to toes. Kale couldn’t help the grin on her face. She liked looking clean and neat. She’d be warm, and she’d look respectable. But the cape…
Inside the lining, Granny Noon had sewn pockets in two rows down each side of the opening. From her waist to the hem, eight pockets, four on each side, held one dragon egg each. Two deeper pockets hung in the side seams at her hips. Granny Noon called them
hollows
and had Kale stuff them with objects she said were essential for a quest. With all the things they’d slipped into those pockets, the cape should have bulges. It didn’t.
I may not know much, but I know pockets should look full when they’re full.
Granny Noon had explained each item, but the familiar objects had bizarre purposes. Before Granny tucked the last feather into the right side pocket, Kale knew her mind was muddled with bits and pieces of information she didn’t understand. She tried to sort out Granny Noon’s instructions as the others busied themselves with their own preparations.
Dar stood beside an ironing board, pressing out wrinkles in clothes he had washed and dried. Leetu studied the bookshelves, looking for a book to borrow. Granny Noon bustled from cabinets to the table, packing provisions for their journey.
Kale patted the smooth surface of the cape where a “hollow” pocket lay underneath.
The beans will grow breakfast. The dried yellow leaves cure headache. The dried pink leaves cure stomach pain. The twigs tell which way to water. The white feather is a peace token. The black feather signals trouble. The gray feather means “follow me.” What is the little shell for?
Kale stared at the fire trying to remember.
Oh yes, to summon a crow. But I don’t remember why I would want to summon a crow.
She slowly turned her head, watching the others in the room and wondering how she could ask Granny Noon without alerting Dar and Leetu Bends to her inability to remember simple instructions. She could try to speak to Granny Noon’s mind. How could she block Leetu’s hearing and reach Granny?
Her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror, and she snapped to attention. For just an instant, she had seen only her head…
The cape! There
was
something odd about the cape. The light gray fabric shimmered in the light—rippled, really—catching the colors of other things as if the material reflected images like the old mirror on the wall.
Dar broke the comfortable silence of the room. “Granny Noon spun the cloth from moonbeams.”
“Moonbeams!” Kale cried out. “Cloth made from light?” She stroked the smooth, warm fabric, tilting her head to examine it even more closely.
“Dar, you’re incorrigible,” said Granny Noon. She cast a frown in his direction and then looked over her basket at Kale. “It’s a type of bush with round white flowers. Thus the name, moonbeam plant.”
“Why does it look so strange?” She moved her arms to hold the cape away from her body. Squinting, she tried to see what she had seen just a moment before. She sighed, shaking her head in bewilderment. “And then it looks normal.”
“When you move, the material looks like any other cloth,” explained Granny Noon as she went back to wrapping small bundles with gauzy white cloth. “But when you stand still, you blend into your surroundings.”
“I’m invisible?”
“No, not invisible. More like a chameleon, well hidden. And you would need to put up the hood to keep your head and face out of sight.”
Kale reached over her shoulder and pulled up the soft material that lay like a
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