“Malta!” she called out sharply.

“Yes, mother?” The girl came back from around the corner. She was in her night-robe and carrying a cup and saucer.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” Keffria demanded.

For answer, Malta held up the cup. “I couldn't sleep. I made myself some chamomile tea.”

“Did you hear an odd sound, a few moments ago?”

Malta shrugged. “Not really. Perhaps the cat knocked something down.”

“Perhaps not,” Ronica muttered worriedly. She brushed past Keffria and headed towards the kitchen. Keffria followed her and Malta, cup in hand, trailed after them curiously.

The kitchen was dark save for the glow of the banked fires. There were the familiar, somehow safe smells of the room: the cook fire, the yeasty smell of the slow bread put out to rise for the morning's baking, the lingering aroma of the night's meat. Ronica had brought a candle from the den; she crossed the familiar room to the outside door and tugged it open. Winter cold flowed in, making mist ghosts in the room.

“Is there anyone there?” Keffria asked as the candle guttered in the breeze.

“Not anymore,” her mother replied grimly. She stepped out of the door onto the icy porch. She looked all around, and then stooped down to retrieve something. She came back into the kitchen and shut the door firmly.

“What is it?” Keffria and Malta asked together.

Ronica set the candle down on the table. Beside it she placed a small wooden box. She peered at it for a moment, then turned a narrowed gaze on Malta.

“It's addressed to Malta.”

“It is?” Malta cried in delight. “What is it? Who is it from?” She surged towards the table, her face alight with anticipation. She had always loved surprises.

Her grandmother put a firm hand on top of the box as Malta reached for it. Her denial was plain. “What it is,” Ronica went on in an icy tone, “I believe, is a dream-box. It is a traditional Rain Wild courting gift.”

Keffria felt her heart pause inside her. She couldn't get her breath, but Malta only tugged at the box under her grandmother's forbidding grip. “What's in it?” she demanded. “Give it to me.”

“No.” Ronica's voice was full of authority. “You will come back with us to your grandfather's study. You have some explaining to do, young woman.”

Ronica scooped up the box and strode from the room.

“Mother, it's not fair, it's addressed to me! Make Grandma give it to me. Mother? Mother!”

Keffria realized she was leaning on the table. She straightened up slowly. “Malta. Didn't you hear what your grandmother just told you? It's a courting gift! How could this be?”

Malta shrugged elaborately. “I don't know! I don't even know who it's from or what's in it! How can I tell you something about it if Grandma won't even let me look at it?”

“Come to the study,” Keffria instructed her with a sigh. Malta raced off ahead of her. By the time Keffria entered the room, she was already arguing with her grandmother.

“Can't I at least look at it? It's for me, isn't it?”

“No. You can't. Malta, this is serious, far more serious than you seem to understand. This is a dream-box. And it's marked with the crest of the Khuprus family. They are perhaps the most prestigious family of the Rain Wild Traders. It was not a coincidence that they came to represent all the Rain Wild families at the last gathering. They are not a family to offend, or to take lightly. Knowing that, do you still want this box?” Ronica held it out to the child.

“Yes!” Malta replied indignantly and made a grab for it. Ronica snatched it back.

“Malta!” cried Keffria. “Don't be foolish. It's a courting gift. It must be sent back, but very politely. It must be made clear to them that you are too young to consider any man's suit. But in a very courteous way.”

“No, I'm not,” Malta protested. “I'm too young to be promised to a man, yet, but why can't I consider his suit? Please, Grandma, at least let me see what's in it!”

“It's a dream-box,” Ronica said brusquely. “So it has a dream in it. You don't open it to see what's in it, you open it to have the dream.”

“How can there be a dream in a box?” Keffria asked.

“Magic,” Ronica said brusquely. “Rain Wild magic.”

The sudden intake of Malta's breath betrayed her excitement. “Can I have it tonight?”