Kyliene let out a soft sigh, her warm breath bouncing off the brilliant green leaves of the silveen tree, causing them to tremble.

Green eyes the same shade as the leaves, peered out from the natural cover of the tree.

A young woman, old enough to be Kyliene’s mother, leaned down to kiss the wrinkled hand of an old woman sitting upon a stone bench. Then she adjusted a wide cloth wrapped around her torso. The infant nestled against her breast gave a mild stretch and fell back asleep.

You have it all, Arin, Kyliene sighed again, a little louder than she’d intended.

You’re smart, beautiful, gifted in the healing arts,…and you even have a husband who loves and cherishes you. With a mild tug and the flash of a blade, the tender silveen fruit rolled from her palm into the basket attached to her hip. How would that be? You’re a highly respected member of the Iskari community and admired by everyone around you.

Another fruit rolled into the basket.

…and I’m a fruit girl.

She shook her head with the hopes of rattling the silliness from her mind.

Stop it! You’re sounding ungrateful and that’s wrong. You have a LOT to be grateful for! The gods gave you nana and Celeb, so that when they took mother and pappa home, you wouldn’t be lonely. She nodded to herself. You have uncle Delnar to watch over you as well and the kind support of the whole Iskari High Council! That’s more than most can say. So watch yourself, Kyliene, you don’t need anything!

She paused to watch Arin wander back up to the main path…her slight waddle, revealing her pregnancy—which made her even more impressive.

Kyliene sighed again. …except a purpose.

“Are you going to pout about your life, child, or pick that fruit?”

Snapping her attention back to the task at hand, she smirked to herself, “Sorry, Nana.”

How does she do that? Kyliene wondered. Her grandmother could hear a baby breathing roughly the next house over, or sense the rummaging of a cinder mole underfoot, trying to snatch a taste of the new crops.

“It’s because I’m blind, dear,” her grandmother called back.

Kyliene paused, “What?”

“Why I can hear you, sweetie,” Nana grinned her charming, yet near toothless grin. “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”

Kyliene laughed aloud then. “Now you’re being creepy,” she chided.

The old woman laughed along with her. “The question is, am I too creepy as to scare you…or just a little creepy to make you wonder how smart I am?”

Kyliene slide down the silver bark of the tree and landed squarely on both feet. Checking her inventory, she strode to the bench. “Just enough to make me wonder what you really hear…”

“And?” Nana prodded.

“…and what you really know,” Kyliene admitted.

“Then I’ll take it,” Nana chuckled. “A little mystery among the youth might do me some good. Get a few of the boys back there to watch their language more closely if nothing else, eh?”

They both laughed.

Sliding the basket strap from off her shoulder, Kyliene set the fruit on the bench next to her grandmother and took a seat on the shallow grass at Nana’s feet. The old woman lifted the basket into her lap for inspection.

Old dedicated hands took each piece of rare fruit and ran experienced fingers over the skin, careful not to bruise it, and yet taking account of each and every blemish mere eyes would miss. Only the best of the orchard would go to market and be shared with the rest of the community. The remainder would be dispatched among the workers and delivered to those who could not travel to the market due to illness or disfunction.

“Why do so many come to you, Nana?”

“What do you mean, dear?”

Kyliene considered her question carefully. “For someone considered blind, you see more than most.”

Nana smiled as she inspected another piece of fruit.

“…but I’m curious why so many come to you for advice and council?”

“Does that seem strange to you?”

“Well,…yes. It does.”

“Why is that?” another silveen rolled from her weathered fingers into a wooden box.

“I just,” but Kyliene broke off and bit her lip instead. She didn’t want to offend the woman she loved more than anyone in life. That’s it, Kyliene, insult Nana for being who she is. “Uhhhh,” she stammered, then bit her lip again.

Nana’s hands paused mid-inspection. “The worst thing you can do, child, is hold back your questions. Especially when it’s all too obvious that whatever you’re wanting to know or understand is plaguing your mind. If you’re not careful and address it, you allow doubt to spread to your heart. Just spit it out.”

She’s right, like always. No one else can explain this to me anyway, so what are you afraid of?

Sitting upright, Kyliene leaned forward and spoke softly. “I’m wondering why so many in the community come to seek the council of a blind steward of fruit trees?”

The laughter startled her.

Nana rolled her head back and let out a belly laugh she’d rarely heard.

It was contagious.

Kyliene chuckled as her grandmother wiped tears from her eyes and forced herself to take a set of deep breaths. She held out a hand, searching. When Kyliene filled it with her own, the old woman squeezed tenderly.

“Oh you darling, wonderful child! You are SO much like your mother, I forget what I have lost…and yet I cannot thank the gods enough for allowing you to be in my life. Thank you for the honesty.” She wiped away another tear. “But to answer your question, I was not always blind…nor was I always the steward of this orchard.”

“You weren’t?” Kyliene couldn’t remember a life outside the silveen trees. Even as a small child she’d accompanied her father as he labored with others among the trees, but then again, it with Nana who took over as steward after her parents passed away. “What did you do before tending to the silveen?”

“Ah,” Nana sighed. She set the fruit back into the basket and laced her fingers, settling them in her lap. “I was a Matriarch of the Veil.”

Kyliene frowned. She’d never heard of such a thing among her people. “What’s a…”

Her grandmother smiled sweetly, “It is a position among the older ones of our people. The children have no need for my services.”

“Is this why,” Kyliene adde carefully, “people like Arin come to you still?”

“In part.” She motioned to her granddaughter, “Come here child,” and held out one of her hands. Her hands felt warm and soft to Kyliene, making her more aware of her own cold limbs. “One of the the most important things a Matriarch does, is wait and listen for those seeking her council.” She gave Kyliene’s hand a gentle squeeze, “For she is ever wary of a person’s agency to choose a path for themselves.”

Again the old woman smiled, but it was a distant smile. One that came with decades of service in the office she loved to serve in. A smile which was no respecter of persons…loving all who came to the Matriarch.

“What is the real question in your heart, child?”

Like a hand pulling back the curtains to reveal the morning sun, Kyliene’s mind heart swelled with a desire she’d never been able to give words to. “I want to make a difference in the world, Nana. I am so grateful to be here, to be with you and to work in the stewardship of my father…but something in me whispers that I am supposed to do even more.” For a moment, she hesitated, almost desiring to pull her hand from the grasp. “Is…that wrong?”

Nana grinned wide. “Wrong to serve? Never. Though one must always be careful what we ask of the gods, for you may get what you ask for.” Leaning closer, she patted Kyliene’s hand. “Do you wish me to look into your future according to as the gods see it?”

“Wha…what does that mean?”

“This is my first and greatest stewardship, my darling child. To open the future of knowledge to the faithful. To give a glimpse of what might be, should one be true to the calling of the heart in walking the paths of righteousness.” Motioning to the case of fruit at her feet, “If you accept this of your own free will and choice, you may choose a silveen by your own hand and I will give you the meaning.”

Reaching down to the crate, Nana stopped her.

“Do you accept my reading by your own free will and choice, Kyliene?”

“Yes, Nana,” she swallowed.

“Then choose a fruit.”

Why would she ask me to choose a fruit? Is there some way I’m supposed to eat it now? Maybe it’s a test and I’m supposed to choose a certain piece! No, that’s silly. Smart as Nana is, she’s still blind for goodness sake. She can’t see which one I would choose. She shook her head. Don’t be silly, Kyliene,…just pick one. Any one will do. ….won’t it?

With great trepidation, she reached out and lifted one of the smaller silveens from the side of the crate.

“Have you chosen?”

“Yes.” See you silly girl, she can’t tell what you’ve taken! She smiled to herself, handing the fruit to her grandmother.

With dexterity and grace, the silveen danced over the old woman’s fingers, rolling across knuckles and sliding across one palm and into the next. Kyliene had never seen such a display before and sat there fascinated until the fruit stopped, grasped by all ten fingers and lifted to the bulbous nose.

Nana sniffed deeply.

“Sweet, like the child you are…and firm, as you are in beliefs and service. A good beginning.” Holding it outward, she said, “Now take it in your left hand only, and using your harvest knife, I want you to cut from the scar of the pedicel to the scar of the style and back up to the pedicel again. Do it in one clean, continual motion, as I’ve taught you.”

“Yes, Nana” she replied and slid the knife from his sheath at her hip.

Kyliene was an expert with the knife and in the pitting of silveens. It took considerable talent, especially if you were making Iskari wines. The juice of unripened silveens were used for wines, and if you lacked the skill with a knife, or an understanding of the fruit, you’d likely slice on of your fingers off. But these were ripe silveens and as such, the exocarp or skin of the fruit was easily penetrated, even with a fingernail.

With a firm grip on her knife, Kyliene twisted both hands in unison, allowing the blade to rotate around the circumference of the fruit. “It’s cut.”

“Now twist once to separate the flesh in half.”

With a motion of her wrists, Kyliene pulled the halves apart. “Done.”

Nana took a slow, deep breath and asked, “Is the meat of the silveen solid white?”

Holding both sides open, they looked like two eye sockets, though one was missing an eye. White inner meat, with… “No,” she said curiously. “This one has a deep red ring around the endocarp. That’s strange. Fruit doesn’t show that sign unless it’s too old to…”

“Set your knife down, child and using only your right hand, I wan’t you to pluck the seed from the meat.”

Kyliene hesitated. “But it’s sharp. I could get it out easily if I used the kni…”

“No,” Nana said sharply. “All things must be exact. Just be careful, child, that’s all. Then use your fingers and nails to pull the endocarp from the meat, alright?”

“Alright,” Kyliene replied weakly.

For a moment she studied her grandmothers face. The lines around her eyes and across her forehead looked deeper, her complexion growing pale.

“Are…you alright, Nana?”

The old woman swallowed dryly and nodded. “I’ll be fine. Just need some water…but let’s get this done first, Must not stop once the ceremony has begun.”

Kyliene nodded and reached for the hard center seen of the silveen. There were usually three or more seeds in a silveen fruit. Tow or more smaller black seeds, round and harmless which formed near the top of the fruit, just under the skin, while the hardy center seed took up one quarter of the fruits size. The center seed was jagged and sharp as glass. Without gloves, trying to dislodge such a seed was near pointless.

Using her long nails, Kyliene took a different route and jabbed at the soft meat holding the endocarp in place. She softy hummed to herself as she did so.

Nana chuckled, “Your father used to hum as he worked.”

“I remember. He used to…oh!”

Nana sat upright, “What’s the matter?”

“I just made a mess of the fruit. The seed was almost out and my finger slipped. Gave me a good gash near my nail-bed. There’s blood on the fruit and seed.” She looked up embarrassed, “Do we need to start over?”

Her grandmother swallowed.

“Nana, are you alright? We can start over again if you like?”

The old woman shook her head and smiled, though it looked strained.

“No, that’s not necessary my dear. We have all we need to know.” Again she tried to smile and held out her hands, “Give me your wound.”

Leaning against Nana’s worn skirt, Kyliene relaxed her hand and lifted a small wooden box from under the bench.

Lifting the lid, she handed Nana a small jar of ointment and a clean, folded rag.

“So you know what is part of my future from this fruit?” It did, after all, seem very strange that one could tell anything of importance from fruit…other than knowing in advance as to how much you’d consume yourself from the smell.

Nana nodded, “I do.” She dabbed the end of the clean cloth into the ointment.

“Oh, do tell, Nana! I hope it’s something good—or something exciting!”

She laughed softly, “And this is why I tend to work with adults and not children on matters of life!”

“I do as much work as most adults!” Kyliene protested, then added, “Which is why I wanted to know if my future will make any real difference?”

Applying the ointment to the wound, the old woman worked it into the thin cut and then wiped the skin clean. Then she tossed the rag into the small box and plopped her hands into her lap.

“WELL,” she huffed with a great big smile, “I can tell you with absolute certainty that your life will make a difference, even if I had not been approached as Matriarch.”

“Oh tell me,” Kyliene giggled, “tell me what you know, Nana!”

Gipping both Kyliene’s hands in her own, the Matriarch, known by the Iskari people as Moira, pulled her granddaughter near to her until their foreheads met.

Her voice dropped low, to just above a whisper, her breath smelled sweet a fruit.

“My darling child, in the name of the beings I serve, I say that you will have your hearts desire granted to you. Your life will change the whole of the world forever and because of you, it shall become a better place.” Tears welled up in Moira’s eyes. “I promise you that as your parents were honored for their faith and unwavering service, you shall be known as such…,” she paused, choking back a sob, “…and follow in their footsteps.”

Blinking the tears away, she could feel Kyliene take a giant breath and exhale with great relief.

“Thank you, Nana. All I ever wanted was to be of use and make a difference.” She leaned up and kissed her grandmother on the cheek. “I just want to matter in this big world.”

“Oh my sweet, little child. You will matter more than you’ll ever know.”

“Are you alright?”

Nana nodded, “These experiences are always emotional for me. I’ll be fine.” She sniffed and then pointed to a large basket near her feet. “You, however, are going to be late in getting that fruit to Alor before his shop opens. Off you go!”

Snatching the basket in her hands, Kyliene dashed up the path to the Iskari market.

…and Moira wept.