Gone To Weave By Steam

by Kelsey Hutton

About the Author: Kelsey Hutton is a Métis author of speculative fiction from Treaty 1 territory (Winnipeg, Canada). She particularly loves writing historical fantasy or mystery, space opera, and Métis and Cree-shaped SFF for fellow Indiginerds everywhere. Connect with her at KelseyHutton.com or on Twitter at @KelHuttonAuthor

Excerpt

“What … what is it?” Alice stammered out, wiping sweat off her forehead with a soot-streaked forearm.

She reluctantly pulled her attention away from the roasting screen, where the haunch of venison wrapped in bacon crackled and spit in the fireplace. The kitchen was quieter than it usually was, with so many of the servants away. But the meat juices were dripping, the soup simmering, and the jellies setting. It was already late afternoon, and even with the large kitchen windows, Alice could tell by the fading light it was almost time for the first course to be served. It was the worst possible time for Lady Winthrope to come clopping into the kitchens to show off … what, exactly?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t for eating. Alice could smell the rot from here, even over the venison.

Through the swinging doors to the scullery, Sally had stopped scrubbing the family’s china in the copper sink to crane forward, trying to catch a look. “Don’t let your elbows get dry,” Alice called loudly over Lady Winthrope’s shoulder. Sally rocked back on her heels and grinned, but dutifully sloshed her boiled arms back into the greasy water.

The mistress held her prize out to Alice regardless, and she gingerly examined it without touching. It was roughly the size of a small melon, with what looked like brown spiky scales. Each of the scales tufted into a dry husky tip curled upwards. At its top, like a lady’s hair piled high, were thick curly green fronds. Even Lady Winthrope held it carefully to avoid touching the pale green mold creeping lightly up one side.

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