I am just a stranger

[Aremu Ediwo]

Afternoon, 27 Dentis, 2719
The Ibutatu Residence, Quarter Fords, Old Rose Harbor

Dear Aurelie, Aremu had written, and then he had stopped, and sat for a long time, careful, thinking. He wrote with his left, slowly, neatly; his right wrist, bare, rested on the edges of the paper, and held it in place. He frowned, lightly, looking down at the letter.

Aremu was not in the habit of wasting paper; he wrote his drafts in his mind, if he felt he needed them, wrote and rewrote. Once the words emerged from his pen and took shape, he kept them; he did not try to double back again. Sometimes he wrote in shifts, in stages; sometimes the letter would come carefully pouring out. Only when writing in code did he ever blot out and begin again, and then only when the code demanded it.

This was not a coded letter; it should, he thought ruefully, have been rather straightforward. The first two words had been something of a commitment; he had spent rather too much time today thinking about whether or not to write, and he had hoped that by putting them down, he would commit himself.

Aremu glanced at the small plate on his desk, the three cookies left remaining, with their browned spots, the cracks through them, and the little dollop of jam in the center. He looked back down at the paper, and set back to his words.

I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. I doubt you expect to hear from me, and can only hope you do not mind.

I write to tell you of some experiments I have done and to ask your help. I have found myself with some unexpected time and an oven, and in an idle moment tried to recreate the cookies which you had gifted me. (I enjoyed them very much). After some trial and error, I have made a serviceable result, but they are cracked on the sides, and there is a bit of greasiness to them. This is better than my earliest efforts, which spread out into a thin, strange cracker. I note this to tell you that I am not, I think, an entirely hopeless case.

The addition of cinnamon to the batter has proved very pleasing; I prefer these cookies to those which are available here in the Rose, even though they are lacking in other ways. If it is not too much to ask, your guidance in the improvement of my efforts would be much appreciated.

With best regards,
Aremu

Aremu sat back; he winced, shifting, feeling the stitches pulling at his side. He closed his eyes for a long moment, looking down at the paper on his desk. The imbala took a deep breath, and left the letter to dry, rising carefully. He would, he promised himself, mail it that day to the care of Professor Harper, with the envelope for Aurelie enclosed inside.

If she did not respond, Aremu thought, he would understand; he couldn’t quite have explained why it was he wished to write her, why it was he had been so determined that he had written those first two words. He took the pen in his hand once more, bending carefully over with a quiet grunt at the ache in his side, settling the tip to the paper, and hesitated. It would be easy to add a postscript – a careful note, telling Aurelie that she did not need to respond, or that he was sorry for disturbing her in this way, if she did not wish to…

After a moment, carefully, Aremu laid the pen down.

Instead, he took a cookie from his plate, and took a bite of it as he left the room, palm tilted to catch the crumbs. He chewed, carefully, and grimaced faintly, and kept about his day.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Vortas 09, 2719 | Laboratory Beta

The letter was such a surprise that at first Aurelie thought it had been given to her by mistake. But no--that had been her name written there, on the inside. And again in the greeting at the top of the letter itself. She had never in all her life received a letter before. What use had a child for letters? Whether that child was ten years old, or twenty.

She read it through three times, embarrassingly slowly and standing there in Professor Moore's office. Her mouth moved as her eyes traced the words, just a little--a habit she'd never had the chance to grow out of. Aremu's handwriting was neat and careful; a blessing, because Aurelie didn't know what she would have done if she had to try to decipher a word. Somehow she knew she could not have quite brought herself to ask for assistance, not from Professor Moore or Niamh or--anyone, really.

When she had read the letter three times through, she gave it back to the professor. At first, she wasn't sure that she should reply. Letters, after all, required postage. And she had only enough for one--that, she had kept to herself, carefully hidden in her room. Not because she thought she would ever have use for it, but still she didn't want to use it now. Just in case.

After some days, Aurelie's careful thought led her to ask rather shyly for a bit of paper that she might write a reply, and a pen. It was a simple letter, all told, and some of it was crossed out or blotted away. She persisted doggedly until the end, and only frowned a little in the review.

Dear Aremu,

Thank you for writing. I do not mind.

I'm glad you liked the cookies. I'm not sure I know what you have done that has made them turn out so, without seeing them being made. Here is the recipe that I have used. Maybe this will help?

Here she included the method for making the cookies that she always used, as neatly and as clearly as she could manage. This part of the letter was markedly more confident than the rest, neatly laid out as if for a recipe card in a box for a cook's use. She wrote also a tip for the step she thought had gone wrong, and a few notes she hoped would prove helpful.

While thinking about your problem, I also thought you might like to try this recipe for gingerbread.

Please let me know if you like it.

Sincerely,
Aurelie

She reached the end and frowned.

P.S. - I hope you have been well. I am sorry my handwriting is poor.

There. That had done it. At least, she hoped so. When her letter dried, she folded it as neatly and carefully as she could manage. Aurelie hadn't been quite certain that she had been able to provide any help, but something in her warmed at the thought that she might have. The first letter she would ever send in her life, and it was to answer a question about baking. That seemed appropriate somehow, and she couldn't find the hurt in her she'd expected to when she thought of it.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, 25 Vortas, 2719
The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum

Dear Aurelie,

Thank you for the letter, and the recipes as well.

The problem of baking has now become more complicated; as you will see from the sending, I have returned to the Muluku Islands. In fact, this island is called Isla Dzum, and I will post this letter from the largest town on the island, known as Western Port. The trouble is that we do not have an oven on the island, so I have needed to employ a good deal of creativity in order to further my efforts.

I worried that I should be forced to choose between telling you of my failure and not writing. This is no longer the case. It turns out that a large flat pan can be used with a low heat from the coals in order to bake the cookies through; it was very much a challenge to keep the edges from becoming too crisp. I have found a larger, flatter cookie works better, and that the cooler the stove is when I begin, the easier it seems.

I have now made two batches of the thumbprint cookies, and one of the gingerbread. I felt the gingerbread was a greater success. Thank you for the tip about the butter; I believe the improvement in technique helped very well.

I did not wish to eat all the cookies myself, and so I have recruited our housekeeper and her family. She did not care for the first batch of the thumbprint cookies, and at her suggestion I added many more spices to the second. I am afraid it is not as similar as it was once was to the ones you made for me, but we enjoyed them nonetheless. Her daughter and grandson came over as well, and we made a comparison between the different versions. Efere is only three, and now I expect he will ask me for cookies every time I see him.

Therefore, in order to appease him, I write to ask if you might be willing to send any further recipes. I would be much obliged.

With best regards,
Aremu

Aremu set his pen down, slowly; he took a deep breath. He shifted, straightening; his back cracked, lightly, and he grimaced, finding the center of it with his hand and pressing firmly until he could arch backwards.

It had grown late, somehow, as he wrote; the light coming in through the window was darkening, steadily, to red. Aremu rubbed at his eyes with his hand, stifling a yawn. It had been a long day in the fields; they were towards the end of the sugarcane processing, and he’d been up most of the night fixing the clarifier. There hadn’t been time to sleep during the day; his stomach ached from the kofi he’d drank, and he couldn’t quite remember lunch; he was sure he must have had something, because Ahura would never have let him escape it.

She had brought him a plate some time ago, Aremu realized, guiltily. He’d forgotten it; he’d been buried in the ledgers, still catching up on the work which had awaited him on his return. He’d dealt with outstanding letters and correspondence first, and only then gotten to the accounts. He trusted Ahura, deeply, but it was his job to know every inch of both sets of ledgers.

Aremu set the letter aside, gently, to dry. He’d thought – he’d been meaning to write. He’d wanted to try the recipes first, of course, and to… he ought to have written tomorrow, Aremu thought. But he’d found himself thinking of what he wanted to say, while working on the clarifier, while picking kofi, while husking the tsug. He glanced down at the letter once more; he rose, aching, and went to the top of the stairs. He picked up the bowl of úqikedisiq; he was never more grateful for Ahura than in such moments, for he doubted he could have stomached much else.

Aremu climbed out his window, then; he balanced on the frame with bare feet, setting the bowl onto the top of it, and pulled himself around with his hand. He propped his feet against the roof, settled the bowl into his lap, and watched the sunset as he ate, admiring the gleaming light through the clouds and over the ocean.

It was later, his hand washed and the ledgers put again, that Aremu took up the letter once more. He bent his down, and added a careful postscript.

P.S. I am not sure whether you would have been to any such place as the Muluku Islands. I would be glad to tell you more of them, but only if it should not bore you. It would be small recompense for the recipes, but I am afraid that I do not have much else to offer.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Vortas 37, 2719 - Early Morning | Brunnhold University

Aurelie had smiled, reading the letter in her slow and halting way. She hadn't, truthfully, known if Aremu would write her again. She had hoped so, and had asked for his opinion on the recipe she had sent that he hadn't asked for. She didn't think as she could expect it, all the same. And yet he had, and seemed like he had intended to all along. Having a friend she didn't see felt very strange; it felt strange having a friend at all, really. She still didn't think she was adjusted to the concept.

Dear Aremu,

You're very welcome. I'm happy to send them.

I do not often get to bake for children so young as Efere, but I have included a few more recipes to try. The spiced molasses cookies especially might please. I do think a less dark molasses is best, but not too light. I have made a few notes. I think they should work still without an oven. I have never tried, but the pan is a clever fix. I might have to try, just to see. It is nice to try new ways of doing things.

I would be happy if you could tell me which of these works best. Not just in the pan, but for tastes as well. What would they like, your housekeeper and her family? I have always felt it is good to make changes for the person doing the eating. I could send more, if you would like. What changes did you make to the thumbprint cookies? I would like to try those, also. If you don't mind telling me.

I have never been to the Islands. I did not travel much when I was little. My sister was still in school, and my parents were always very busy. I would like to hear about them. I looked at where they are on a map. It is funny how things seem very close on maps. At least to me.

I am happy to share the recipes, and to write. I will try to get better at letters.

Sincerely,
Aurelie

It had been a little easier, this time, for her to ask for the paper and help with the letter. Aurelie couldn't quite bring herself to ask for the map, but she had looked at one when she thought she was alone anyway. Her fingers had tripped over the seemingly short distance between the place on the map marked "Brunnhold" and the place marked "Muluku Isles". It wasn't so detailed a map that she knew which island was which; she didn't know that it mattered.

Two recipes, besides the molasses cookies, had been written on neat cards, the same as before. This time she had tried to choose recipes she thought might please someone besides herself, although she didn't know anyone's taste and could only make the most broad of guesses. The oatmeal she had been dubious about, and had made several notes for inclusions that tended to work well and please children. She had considered including the snowballs, but they hadn't gone over well with the Prefect, and she was too shy to risk that they would be similarly received by Aremu.

Aurelie had tried to picture, as she wrote even more slowly than she had read, a place that was always warm. She thought she had seen specs, of course, but that wasn't the same. For a moment she had considered not answering that offer at the end, to tell her more. She had sat with it, and she had wondered if it would hurt.

It would. She knew it would. But it was a familiar kind of ache, and she didn't think it would get any gentler with the not knowing. Enough to hear of places she could never see, and to know that someone in them thought of her at least a little. That was more, she reflected, than she'd had before. And she did want to be told about it. There was more joy in hearing from a friend than there was pain from what was beyond her reach. Something she didn't know before, and was grateful to know now.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Late Afternoon, 12 Achtus 2719
The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum

Dear Aurelie,

Thank you very much for the recipes. I liked the spiced molasses cookie very much. For the oatmeal cookie, we did not have the raisins which you suggested he might like, but I added some dried coconut. It tasted well. I hope this was all right.

The lace cookies were excellent also; they were very easy to make on the stove, because they are so thin. The only part which was hard was taking them off of the pan. I liked the spiced molasses best.

I will now report to you Efere’s opinions also. He tells me that he likes best the lace cookies, followed by the spiced molasses, and then the oatmeal. The enclosed drawing is from him. I told him I wished to describe the island to you, and he wished to be of assistance. The letters at the top are his name, although he is not yet very good at writing an e.

Ahura is his grandmother. She is our housekeeper. She has known me since I was a small boy, and does not hesitate to remind me of this. She says that of all the cookies, she liked best the thumbprint which we made the second time. You wished to know what we added to them: saffron, pepper, nutmeg, cloves, allspice, and fennel seeds. I hope I have translated all of these names well. Perhaps you will be shocked to hear so many spices named. Ahura is a great fan of blending many spices in her food, and she is very skilled at knowing how they shall balance each other.

Also part of our testing were Ahura’s husband, Ulofo, and their daughter Apadha. Apadha helped me with thinking of using dried coconut, and she liked the oatmeal best. Ulofo did not wish to tell me what he liked, but he had three of the spiced molasses, and only one of the others.

Everyone reports that they would be glad to try more recipes. I told them that you had sent many already, but that I would request another, if you have the time. I hope I do not impose.

They are all like us. I thought you might wish to know this. I am sorry if this was not so.

Aremu set his pen down, for a moment. He lifted it again, thinking to strike the line out – thinking to begin again – he held, then. It felt like lying, he thought, uneasily, that she did not know. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. Lies built a wall between you; Aremu had known that for many years. He was beginning to understand that silences and omissions, too, could be wooden planks in the wall. Slowly, shifting at the kitchen table, he began to write once more.

I offered also to tell you of the island. I realize only now as I begin to write how inadequate I am to this task. I will begin with the name. I told you it is called Isla Dzum. Dzum is a word in Mugrobi; in Estuan it means red. It is called Isla Dzum both because the soil is very red in color, and because it has many mangrove trees upon which a special vine grows, which flowers red once per year.

Where I stay is in a house on the top of a large cliff at one of the edges of the island. It was Uzoji’s house; I think of it as his even now. From the house, the ground slopes down, and it is not a long walk to a beach of white sands. The water is warm, here, warmer than in Anaxas, and one can swim year round, any time when there is not a storm.

From the windows of the house, I can see the tsug trees, which you call macadamia nut trees. We grow them in a large orchard, and we plant kofi plants in the shade of them. The trees have large, shiny leaves, and from the distance I cannot see the kofi plants, although I know they are there. Beyond them are the sugarcane fields; the harvest has ended, now, but when they are growing, they are long tall pale stalks, with bright green leaves at the top, and they sway in the wind.

I hope this will help you to picture Dzum. I will try to think of three interesting things to tell you about the islands for my next letters. If you have any questions, I will be glad to answer them. I will always tell you what I can; if I cannot answer, this too I will tell you.

With best regards, Aremu

Aremu set his pen down, slowly. Ahura was bustling about at the stove. He hesitated, glancing up at the sky. Yes, Aremu thought – if he left now, he could post the letter at Western Port, and be back for dinner. He didn’t, really, see any reason to wait.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

24th of Achtus, 2719 - Mid-Morning | Brunnhold

Dear Aremu,

Coconut sounds like a very good idea. We do not have that much here in Brunnhold, as I am sure you know. I hadn't even thought of it. It is a good recipe as almost anything works well, as long as it isn't too wet. I am glad to hear you found something to use instead of my suggestions. I was not sure what you would have available to use.

Please tell Efere I am very grateful for his opinions, and also for the drawing. It is very helpful in picturing the island. His letters are not so much worse than mine, I think.

Aurelie had been surprised to find the drawing in with the letter. She hadn't been quite sure, at first, what it had been of--she hadn't much experience with deciphering the artistic efforts of the very small. Eventually it resolved itself to what she thought was a house on a hill, with a sort of stick figure person in front of it. The stick person was not labeled, and Aurelie wasn't sure if it was supposed to be Aremu, or someone else. There was also, helpfully, a sort of noodle-y mass of blue at the bottom of the hill with a few of what she thought might be fish in it, if one supposed this was the ocean. Aurelie smiled at it, and she didn't stop smiling, even though it made her face hurt to hold for so long.

I do not think I have used all of those spices together. I am afraid I tried before writing this letter, so it could help me pick what to send next. It did not go very well. I must not have used the right amounts. I was not sure I should waste any on more attempts. Thank you for all of the reports. I will try to send more that I hope will please. The spiced molasses are my favorite of the three, but I like them all. I do not mind sending them, it is nice to share. Not many ask.

I have included two more this time, which I hope you will like. The macaroons should not be too wet, or they will spread and burn. They are more like small cakes than cookies. I am not sure how well they will do in a pan. I did not have the chance to try. The macadamia butter I am more confident in. The dried cherries can be left out, or changed for something else. White chocolate is also very good.

Aurelie paused on the "like us". She wasn't sure what she had pictured, when Aremu had mentioned Ahura and her family in the last letter. Nothing much, she would have said, but she proved herself surprised all the same. A strange and uneasy kind of surprise, laced with things she didn't know what to do with. Yet still she was glad to know, in a complicated kind of way. She didn't know how to put that in a letter, so she didn't.

Thank you for telling me.

The island sounds lovely. Brunnhold is red, but not quite so much it sounds like. I admit I have never seen a mangrove tree, either. I found a picture in a book that Professor Moore was kind enough to show me. I wish I could It would be nice if I have never seen a tree anything like that, I think.

That is very warm. I imagine that is good? I do not know how to swim, so I am not sure really. I never learned. The only water we had at home Briarwood Hall was a large pond filled with imported fish. It had a statue of Hurte in the middle of it. I think if I had tried to swim in that, Nurse would have been very cross with me. And Mother too, but mostly about the fish I think. I do not know that they would have liked to share their pond with a small girl.

It is all very helpful. I am not sure how accurate my picture is, but that is not due to any lack in the description. There is a lot I have never seen. It all sounds very different from here. Or from Briarwood Hall, too. At least I think so.

Please let me know how these cookies turn out. Thank you for the letters. It is nice to have someone to write to. I am sorry I am not very good at it.

Sincerely,
Aurelie

Aurelie frowned at the words she had tried to cross out. She had thought to start over, but it seemed to her a waste of paper that she had already been given when she should not have at all. A few missteps were not enough to not continue forward.

She had wanted to ask about the house--did Niccolette live there, too? Was it a big house? But she wasn't sure she should ask. Maybe, she thought, in her next letter. Next letters. Aurelie smiled at that, too. It was very strange, having something to look forward to. Letters especially.

Aurelie waited for the ink to dry, and then folded up her letter very carefully around the two recipe cards. She was, she found, already thinking of what she would send with the next.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, 40 Achtus, 2719
The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum

She says,” Aremu said; he sat at the kitchen table, Efere squirming on his thigh, “that she was very grateful to hear what you thought of the cookies, and that she liked your drawing.”

“Let me see!” Efere demanded. He was reaching for the paper, his curly dark hair bobbing beneath Aremu’s chin.

“I’ll set it down, and show you where to look,” Aremu said, solemnly, not sure why the thought of Efere ripping the letter should bother him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t read it already; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t read it twice.

Aremu set the letter down. Slowly, his right wrist came up; he eased it onto the paper. He had been afraid of Efere seeing the arm for a long time; he had thought it would scare him. Efere ignored it, cheerfully and without compunction.

“Here,” Aremu traced a finger down to where Aurelie had written his name. He held his finger beneath it, careful.

“Efere,” Efere read aloud. He grinned brightly up at Aremu. “That is my name! What else?” He cuddled closer.

“Please tell Efere I am very grateful for his opinions,” Aremu read aloud, tracing his finger along beneath the shaky, carefully written words, “and also for the drawing. It is very helpful in picturing the island.”

Efere grinned. “I knew she would like the drawing,” he wriggled, and hopped off Aremu’s lap; he ran over to the stove, chattering to Ahura now. She laughed, and helped him wriggle up onto the counter, where he sat watching her cook.

Aremu set the letter aside; he pulled the paper he had taken out before Efere’s interruption back over to himself. There were ledgers stacked on the back of the tables, and two letters he needed to respond to, but it wasn’t late yet. He could do them later, before he lost the light.

Dear Aurelie,

Efere is very pleased to hear you liked his drawing. He is here now. Ahura tells me I cannot give him any cookies before dinner, so I shall have to report on the results of the taste test in a later part of this letter.

Making the macaroons and macadamia butter cookies was enjoyable. We have many coconuts here. Have you ever tried fresh coconut juice? We drink them when it is hot outside, then split them open and eat the inside. Those which we do not drink we leave to finish ripening, and from these we take out the flesh which becomes dried coconut.

The macaroons were harder to make on the stove. I made the first few on the same flat bottomed pan as all the rest, but the edges began to burn before the middle had cooked through. Instead I thought to put them in a larger pan with high sides; I covered them, and moved them to a cooler part of the stove. This worked well; I tasted one and liked them very much.

The macadamia butter cookies we made with our own tsug nuts. This I found very pleasing. Ahura tried the batter, and she added to it ginger, cinnamon, and cloves. I am sure it would have tasted well without these, but with them it also tasted very well. They were the easiest of all the cookies to make on the stove, except perhaps the oatmeal.

I do not think I have ever had white chocolate. I know the dark sort, but I did not know there was a white varietal. We do not have dried cherries, but we did have dried currants, which I added. I thought they tasted well.

We made another taste test of Ahura’s thumbprint cookies also. I sat with her, and as she took the spices I made her measure them. This I know from long experience is the only way in which one can measure her recipes; she does not like to do it. I have enclosed the recipe is a card like those which you sent. I hope you will have better success this way, if you wish to try again.

Aremu had not been sure what to make of the crossed out portions of the letter. He had turned the paper over, to see if he could make out the shapes of words on the other side. He found he did want to know what she had not wished him to read, where her thoughts had taken her before she had crossed them out and begun again. He tried to imagine her looking up a mangrove tree in a book, and then he put it aside.

In the end, he hadn’t been able to read the words; it was too difficult.

I learned to swim here. I grew up in Thul Ka; my father was friends with Uzoji’s father, and when I was a boy I came here to the island with Uzoji and his mother in the summer. It is a good place for learning. The water of the Tincta Basta is very salty; it tastes awful, but it helps you to float. I do not think the fish here mind sharing, but they have more space than the ones in the pond at Briarwood Hall, I expect.

I have promised three interesting things about the island. Here they are:
- Many spices are grown here. We do not grow spices, but the closest neighboring plantation on Isla Dzum grows saffron.
- Every year we have a large festival which is called dzum’ulusa. This is to celebrate the flowering of the vines with the red flowers. There is much drumming.
- Many imbali live on the islands. They have lived here for many generations.

I think your letters are better than mine. I am glad to receive them.

Aremu set his pen down, then; Ahura looked up, the last of the idlis coming off the stove.

It was later that night that Aremu sat down once more; the ledgers were done, the replies to the letters written, and his eyes were heavy, hanging shut. He broke off the corner of a piece of a macadamia nut cookie, nibbling at it as he wrote.

I add here the results of the taste testing. Ahura’s favorite remain her own version of the thumbprint cookies. She likes also the macaroons which I made in the covered pan. Efere says he likes best the macadamia nut cookies. I think this is true for me as well.

Thank you for all the recipes. We are all very grateful. Efere asks you to send more; so do I.

Best regards,
Aremu

[Aurelie Steerpike]

12th of Ophus, 2719 - Early Evening | Brunnhold

There was something strange about letters, Aurelie was starting to realize. Not bad, but odd. The writing of them so often reflected the thoughts and events of the moment, and yet they were delivered to her so long after. Once she had overheard part of a lecture, when nobody had thought that she was listening. Most of it hadn't made sense to her, being partway through the year and her conception of the subject being piecemeal snatches like this one. But they had said that the light from the sun took some time to reach Vita, traveling through the emptiness of space before bringing light and warmth to the planet's surface. Letters, Aurelie thought, were much the same.

Dear Aremu,

I have never tried a fresh coconut of any kind, I am afraid. Only the dried has ever made it to Brunnhold's kitchens. What is that like? Is it very different? I am glad you enjoyed both. I thought of the macaroons because of your last letter, and hoped they would not require many substitutions. I am sorry they were difficult to make, I was not sure. I am glad you found a solution, and that you enjoyed them.

White chocolate is very different from the normal kind. It is, in my opinion, not really chocolate at all. It is made with the butter, and not the solids. At least, I was told this is so. It is much more mild, and very soft. The regular kind would also taste good in this, if you should ever want to try. I am glad they pleased, even changed.

Please tell Ahura I am grateful for both of your efforts. I made another attempt, and that was very good. I think I understand now why she is always adding things. It was very different. That is the nice thing about cooking. You can always change it to suit who is doing the eating, and then it is your own.

Aurelie had paused there, trying to picture Aremu as a small boy learning to swim with Uzoji. She had not quite managed before in the garden, and she didn't quite manage now. But it made her smile to think of it, and to think of sharing space with the fish.

It would have been nice to learn, especially somewhere warm. It is very cold here now. It has not been snowing at least in the last few days, which is good. The snow makes the work more difficult. I do not much care for winter, and it is hard to get out of bed when the sun is not yet up.

Are there many other plantations on the island? I am not sure how big it is. That sounds like a good sort of festival. Brunnhold has many, but they mostly make work for me and are not so much fun. Sometimes they are, though.

I am trying to think of what I can write about, but it is not so interesting here. My sister came to see me a few days ago. I am always glad to see her, even if it is strange. I hope it will not always feel so.

Generations, he had said, and something in her twinged. Aurelie put the thought aside, because she didn't know what else to do with it.

Aurelie thought to mention that she had met Niccolette, although that had been months ago now. She thought better of it in the end, because she didn't think the circumstances were the sort of thing one put in letters. This visit had been different, at least, from the two before. Ana hadn't tried to talk about what had passed between them, or anything else. She had taken Aurelie shopping and to lunch, which had been a distinctly uncomfortable experience.

When Ana had asked her if she had fun, Aurelie hadn't had the heart to tell her that she had not. Her sister, she thought, wouldn't understand if she'd tried. And she had liked her company, at least; sometimes she had almost been able to forget, and to pretend it was just as it had been when she was small. They had gone for sandwiches, and Aurelie had almost cried, thinking of Mother. This, too, she had kept from Ana. This, too, she kept from her letter.

I have only one recipe for you in this letter, which we call tea cakes. You do not have to have them with tea, of course. They look a bit like cookies, but have the texture of cakes. I have noted a few changes I know go well. The dough will seem too thick and firm to shape, but they will warm in your hands. I hope they do not prove too difficult, with the weather.

I am always glad of your letters. I will try to think of something besides cookies to talk about in the next one.

Sincerely,
Aurelie

[Aremu Ediwo]

Late Morning, 28 Ophus, 2719
The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum

Dear Aurelie,

This is Apadha, writing on behalf of Ada’xa Aremu. Aremu says that he has written of me, but I wished also to introduce myself. I am Apadha pezre Ahura. In Estuan I thought that I would write Apadha daughter of Ahura, but Aremu tells me that I may write my name as I would in Mugrobi. I am also the mother of Efere. He says hello to you also.

I will write not my own words but Aremu’s in the letter which follows.

Sincerely,
Apadha pezre Ahura

Dear Aurelie,

Apadha is writing this letter on my behalf as I did not wish to go too long without sending you a letter, and wished to send one early enough that I could wish you a happy Clock’s Eve in advance of the holiday. It is, as I understand, an important holiday in Anaxas.

The reason I cannot write myself is that I was very foolish, and dislocated my shoulder in a storm a week ago. I was impatient with the healing, and the doctor who came from Laus Oma, the largest town on the island, has instructed me not to do anything with my left hand for another week at least, if I wish to continue using it. I will admit that I made some earlier attempts at writing to you, but could not read my own writing, and did not wish to subject you to an even worse letter than usual.

I am sorry to report that this has also kept me from trying to make the teacakes which you sent a recipe for. I was very glad to hear that you were able to follow the recipe which I sent. I told Ahura that you liked it, and passed along your thanks. She was not surprised. She made the cookies again recently, and she also made the macaroons. I should note that hers turned out better than mine did. They cooked through very well. I must conclude that all failings were my own.

I will look for white chocolate in the market here, perhaps next week, when I go to visit the doctor. If I cannot find it, I will see about trying dark chocolate when I make the cookies again.

The flesh of fresh coconut tastes similar to the dried, but, in my opinion, it has the richer flavor that nuts have. The juice is sweet, and very refreshing. We like it most when it is hot outside.

I am not overfond of snow. Perhaps this will not surprise you. I describe it to Efere the other day, and he said he thought it sounded very frightening. Apadha is now scolding me. She says he had a nightmare of it that night, and woke crying from fear of it. I am not quite so bad, but I do not like it, nor the cold. Getting up early in the morning when it is very cold sounds most unpleasant. I am afraid I do not know what this is like. My trouble is usually falling asleep.

There are four other plantations on Isla Dzum, and other villages which run between them. They are not all active. Only two others are active, one of whom is our neighbor and the other of whom is on the far side of the island. It is one of the smaller islands which is still inhabited, but well-situated. I am glad it is large enough to have a port, and ferries which run several times per day to the other islands, as well as hire boats which we can take to travel.

There are many things I do not know much about. Siblings are one of them. Niccolette is the closest thing I have to a sister, and she can be strange too. (This was a joke. Apadha tells me I should clarify). Apadha tells me I may speak of her here. She has a brother. He is younger than her, and he lives in Thul Ka. He comes to visit, sometimes. She says that this, too, can be strange, because his life in the city is so different than their life here.

Happy Clock’s Eve. I expect that I will make the tea cakes before I receive your next letter, so please feel free to send a new recipe. Apadha tells me she will not take any more dictation, as I am looking very tired. I feel fine. I do not mean to worry you. My shoulder is not worth worrying about.

Best regards,
Aremu

[Aurelie Steerpike]

6th of Intas, 2720 | Brunnhold

When Aurelie had opened the latest letter to find a hand she did not recognize had written it, she had felt for a moment very nearly afraid. An absolutely ridiculous sort of feeling, and she had scolded herself soundly for it. Who would have known to send a letter her, for her, who would care that she was reading it or writing in return?

She was relieved immediately, of course, although no less puzzled until she got a little further along. Her frown then had changed from one of confusion to one of concern.

Dear Aremu,

I am (always) happy to hear from you, but please do not trouble yourself so much over a letter to me. I would not like to hear that you had made the injury worse, just to send me a letter. Thank you though. And thank you to Apadha, too.

I should think that Ahura has more experience in cooking than you, and that is the reason they turned out better. I had no chance to test them, so cannot say how hard they would be for me to make either in this way. I would be happy to hear when you have tried. After your shoulder is better. Please do not try before. I trust that you will not, but just in case.

How did you describe snow, to give Efere nightmares? You must like it even less than I do. I think it is quite pretty, at least. Until I have to walk through it to get to the kitchen from my room. Then it is less pretty. The cold is not so bad later in the day, but work starts quite early in the kitchens and nothing is yet warm. By the time breakfast is served, it is warm enough. I am even happier to be in the kitchen than anywhere else, then.

Aurelie wondered at the part of the letter about siblings. That is more experience than I have, she almost wrote, but seeing the words in someone else's handwriting had rendered them strange and she didn't know how to write to that. A brother, he had said. That he hadn't seen--since. It is not always that way, she remembered. Aurelie had set her letter down, thinking. After some time, she returned and began to write again.

Maybe that is it. Ana's life is very different to mine, as you might imagine. It is good to see her, anyway. So I suppose I do not mind some strangeness after all.

I hope by the time you get this letter, you are feeling better. I am sorry it has taken me a little longer to get to. At the beginning of the year all the students return and there is more work than usual, somehow.

I have put in another recipe, this time for a kind of shortbread made with pecans. You can change the nuts of course. This one is made a little differently than the others, and I think they are very fun to make. I am afraid this is another one that needs to get somewhat cold. It is cold here and that is all I can think of. If these do not work, I will send a recipe that does not require any chilling next time.

Please rest. If your shoulder does not get better, who will I send recipes to? And of course I am worried. We're friends, aren't we? I hope to hear you are feeling much recovered in your next letter.

Sincerely,
Aurelie

The question at the end had been just a little genuine. She hoped he wouldn't think so, but by the time she had written it the rest of the letter had been finished and she didn't want to start again. Already she had been too busy to write her reply as soon as she would have liked, and that rankled her. Even though it didn't really matter, in the end. It would, she thought mournfully, have to stay just as it was.

Before she folded it up, she added a small postscript:

P.S. - Is there a holiday like Clock's Eve in Mugroba? An important one, I mean. Not the rest of it. I would like to send a letter then, since you sent me this one now.