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Daja looked up at the knock on her door and smiled to see Sandry standing there.
“May I come in?” her foster sister asked.
Daja nodded and scooted over so that there would be room for them both to sit on the bed. Sandry reached down to pick something up from the floor beside the doorway, and Daja’s eyes widened as she saw what it was.
It was a basket, wrapped up in thin, sheer fabric with small embroidered patches of designs -- various smith tools, Daja could see as Sandry drew closer, and the symbols of the Living Circle, and lumpy circle of thread. Inside the wrappings she could see sweetbread and poppy tarts, both traditional Trader foods, as well as a jar of blackberry jam and what looked like fresh rye bread, foods that she’d discovered she loved since moving to Discipline Cottage.
Sandry handed her the basket, smiling shyly. “Happy Luckday,” she said in Tradertalk. “My old nurse used to give me one of these every year, and then she’d tell me the story of Trader Koma turning the tables on the old king after he tried to run the Traders out of Chammur. I thought you might want someone to still celebrate with, and Lark helped me put a basket together.”
Daja stared down at the basket. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling her eyes start to prickle with tears. “I wasn’t…I didn’t think I’d ever get one of these again. And I love living here with you and everyone but sometimes…”
Sandry covered her hand gently and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re here too,” she said, “but it’s okay that you still miss them. And if there’s specific things you miss…I know it’s not the same, because we don’t fully understand, but…”
Daja shifted the basket to the side so that she could hug Sandry. “It ought to be the same,” Daja said. “You’re my family, now.”
Sandry hugged her back tightly.
“Do you…do you think the others would want to hear the story?” Daja asked when she drew back.
Sandry smiled at her. “They’re already together downstairs,” she said. “They’re just waiting for you.”
