Trial at the Faire

by Laurel Wanrow

“Why don’t you take a turn with the lambs? That was a fine start, but I know you, my lad. You’d rather have a conversation about animals. Salm can fill in here. I’ll give him the cashbox instructions.”

  Beri did nae wish to test an argument with Lady Lark, so he made the switch when the family left. He settled down with the lamb that he’d held on his lap during the wagon ride here. Another family remarked on how tame the lamb was and came inside with their three children.

  The boy, about ninth year, knelt beside him. “May I pet him?”

  “Aye. His back is dandy, but expect a bit of a test nibble if you pet his face.”

  The lad offered his fingers up immediately to the lamb’s teeth. He giggled when the lamb grazed them.

  “Rory!” admonished his mum. “Did you nae listen?”

  “I did! I wanted to see if it’d hurt.”

  “Brave lad you are,” Beri said, and the boy beamed until he added, “However, the rest of us would like to see you safe. Let’s stick to petting his back to keep the lamb calm. The tiny fingers of your wee sisters canna be tested.”

  Thankfully, the boy did, though he grumbled about his sisters stopping his fun.

  “Feel around his ears for his horn nubs,” Beri suggested. “Count how many you find.”

  Since the brown fleece wasn’t long enough to really hide them, Rory quickly found all six. His parents were more interested in the Manx breed details Ms. Scallop had shared, and two blokes outside the pen asked how many the other lambs had. Beri nearly missed Rory teasing his fingers to the lamb’s mouth again.

  “Hey, I have an idea,” Beri said brightly. “Find him a clover to eat.”

  Rory latched on to the suggestion, while his father helped the toddler lasses stroke the lamb’s back. Beri let Rory feed his clover to the lamb on the flat of his hand, and the lad was thrilled.

  “Brilliant distraction,” Rory’s mum said while her son crawled around to find more clover. “You must have younger siblings.”

  The suggestion caught Beri broadside, especially today, and he didn’t know how to answer. Or if he could answer with his eyes pricking.

  “Just me,” Raven said from the pen’s gate. “Hate to admit it, but Beri has hauled me out of trouble more times than I can count.”

  That got a cheerful response of, “We can’t wait for Rory to be the girls’ protector.” Which Raven also answered.

  Beri looked off, regaining his calm. After a moment, he noticed the blokes with the questions had retreated across the crafters’ corridor, but were still staring at the lamb pen while talking. One elbowed the other, said something, and they walked away. Nothing in particular stood out about the men, in their twenties, or their gray shirts and denim trousers, quite unlike the green-skinned man sporting the flared, mushroomlike tubes from earlier who now approached their pen.

  “Thank you,” Beri mouthed to Raven.

  The family was also thanking him and saying goodbye as they switched places with the burly, green-skinned man.

  “Is my baby too young to pet the lambs?” he asked. While the baby scrunched his chubby fingers into the lamb’s wool, Beri learned the man was play-acting an ogre from a movie that he didn’t dare admit he’d never heard of.

  So many people here were pretending, just like they were.

  During a break in customers, Raven edged over to where Salm was chatting up Willow again. Lady Lark came from the tent to stand outside the pen next to Beri.

  “You were right,” he admitted. “It’s easier to talk to folks with the lambs for conversation.”

  Lady Lark sighed. “Could you trust Merlin and me that this experience is meant for you to build trust in yourself?”

  Spells, it was just like her to take one positive conversation and say the rest of the day would go as well. But… Beri glanced up at Lady Lark’s earnest face. “I will try.” It would make a good excuse when he used Oy’s plan to duck out after speeding through the trial tasks.

  Oyster and Coral returned with Ms. Scallop, followed by more families to see the lambs. Three of them managed the pen, while the other three helped with sales and wrapping. Beri met Merlin’s gaze at one point, and he smiled. Surely this number of conversations with humans fulfilled one task on their list.

  “Hear ye, hear ye!” shouted someone.

  Beri lifted his head along with everyone else toward a fellow in a bright yellow and red, blousing outfit. His matching hood hung with something like stuffed horns, and he strummed an instrument as he stood on a small platform.

  “Fair visitors to Cairnkin Village, come one, come all, and bear witness to our great tournament. Lords, knights and squires are suited up and ready to enter the field for a joust competition. The lances are measured, the shields deemed sturdy and their mounts lively. This hour, these brave knights match their skills for the prize of a gold circlet to be awarded by our royal court. Come assured of safe conduct by all!”

  As he finished, people cheered and began filing away to the lawn area.

  “Time for the lambs to take a break.” Merlin threw the blanket across the corner to re-create their hide. “And for you young people to mingle and enjoy this event.”

  Beri rose and herded his lamb toward the shelter, as did Salm. Outside the pen, the others gathered around Merlin, but Beri busied himself moving the water bucket and hay for the animals.

  “Beri?” Merlin jerked his bearded chin pointedly.

  “Aye,” he muttered. He’d told Lady Lark he would try. Time to put Oyster’s advice into action. He came alongside Merlin and said, “Please tell me we’ve passed conversations.”

  Merlin seemed to sigh, but dipped his head down among them. Everyone leaned in. “Aye, I’ll pass everyone on conversation. Excellent job this morning. Still to tick off are purchases and initiating conversations.”

  “How many purchases?” Beri asked. The doughnuts counted as one.

  “I could buy something from every food stall,” Coral declared.

  Salm laughed. “I’m blimey grateful you don’t have the money.”

  “Lunch, snacks and a half-dozen chats should be good,” Merlin answered. “Go on now.”

  Salm took Coral by the arm and turned her toward a clump of people. “After the joust,” he said. “I dinnae want to miss this.”

  While the others murmured their agreement, Beri scanned the route to the lawn area. People crammed the few openings between the trees, their excitement clear. The lines for food had all but disappeared. He eyed Coral, with her endless hunger. If he played this right, he could be back at the tent in a few minutes and avoid the dangerous crowding of people at that joust.

  Once again, Raven ground his teeth when Salm maneuvered himself next to Willow. On her other side, Coral complained loudly that her brother was not the boss of her. Salm seemed oblivious to everyone…except Willow.

  Then he caught Raven’s eye and smiled.

  The bloody git. “He knows he’s taking my place,” Raven growled to Beri.

  “In a matter of days, Salm of the Seas will be off on their schooner, and you will have Willow to yourself for a week. Plot your way into her heart then.”

  “But if she encourages him—”

  “Dinnae worry,” Beri said distractedly.

  “Cider to drink during the joust!” announced a woman from a booth. “Fresh apple cider.”

  “Doesn’t that sound good?” said Willow.

  This was his chance to get her something. Raven dug in his pocket for his money—

  “Oh, I could use a drink,” Coral said. “Please, let’s stop!” She veered toward the booth, causing everyone to follow, with Beri now in the lead.

  He planted himself before the server. “I’ll pay for six of these.” Beri waved to the cups. “One for each of us.”

  No, how could he ruin—

  “As you wish, sir!” the costumed lady answered jovially. “Six pounds.”

  That much? Ho, he would never… But Beri scooped his human coins from his pocket, counted out t
he amount, and handed over a third of his money.

  “Thank you,” Willow said. “You must allow us to pay for lunch food for you.”

  Raven frowned. Beri must be up to something. He was kind, but this went beyond. Beri picked up a cup and turned, their gazes meeting.

  Beri averted his and gestured for the others to collect theirs. “I’m not worried, because I know you’ll remember to tell Merlin I have made this purchase.”

  As the others thanked Beri, Raven continued eyeing him. Beri attempted to arch his brows and look haughty, but red hair and freckles never came off as high and mighty. Aye, he was up to something.

  Coral took a long drink from hers. “Mmm. Thank you so much! My throat was dry from all this talking.”

  Beri rolled his eyes. “’Tis nae over yet.” He turned back to the server. “Where would you suggest standing to watch the joust?”

  The woman brightened. “Even better, I can tell you how to avoid these crowds.”

  “Please do.” Beri sounded relieved.

  She directed them to go to the end of the crafter area before taking a narrower path through the trees. “Few people know it’s there,” she finished. “Circle around and look for a place along the rope. All spots are fair at the faire.” She laughed at her pun.

  Beri frowned. “Then we are nae avoiding the crowds there, only getting to them?”

  She looked perplexed. “It is our most popular event. May your favorite knight win today!”

  Jaw set in that way Raven knew to avoid, Beri scanned the clumped people and the distant path, then strode off in its direction.

  Raven tossed a quick thanks to the woman and met Willow’s gaze. She grimaced, and he probably did the same. At home, they’d let Beri go off and be grumpy by himself.

  “Come along now, mates,” Salm said cheerily and gave Willow a nudge to fall into step with him.

  Nooo! Salm of the Seas would not get ahead with Willow, even if Raven had to punch him like a human to keep him back.

  5

  A Chivalrous Rivalry

  Raven hustled to stay right behind Willow and Salm as they threaded through the humans. Then he remembered Coral and Oyster behind him and peeked—they were there—and when he looked back, Salm was gone.

  Where—

  “Nay!” Salm’s shout echoed as he pulled Beri back from a sandwich booth. “We are seeing the joust. Come on.”

  Beri wrangled free to purchase a cookie and ask directions again. Salm herded the lot of them forward, then trekked ahead and took point, Coral and Oyster hurrying in his wake.

  Grinning, Raven took Salm’s place next to Willow. Beri lagged a half step behind, clearly irritated about something. He wasn’t usually this stubborn, but if it distracted Salm, Raven was all for it.

  They reached the hidden path in the trees and followed it to the expansive front lawn. Around the ropes, excitement built in the air like a wave of energy. People were bunched together three or more deep and standing on tiptoes. Raven had a decent view over their heads. However, beside him, Willow craned to see.

  “Come along,” Raven told her and clasped her elbow. A pleased feeling enveloped him for the minute they pushed together through the crowd after Salm.

  “There won’t be any horses running all the way down here,” Coral complained.

  Salm backtracked and grabbed the short lass’ hand. “You’re the one who wanted to stop for food,” he reminded her. “I guarantee we will see this.”

  Ha. Coral’s distraction allowed Beri to retake the lead, the others between and Raven and Willow bringing up the rear. More than fifty meters on, they could see the rope. Beri stepped up and turned to the last person along it. The man shook his head, like he was answering.

  Willow nudged Raven’s arm. “Did he ask that person a question, too?”

  “Aye,” he whispered. “Though he hates it, Beri will do what he’s supposed to.”

  Beri waved them forward.

  Coral reached him first. “What did you say to them?” she hissed.

  “Anyone using this space?” he answered once they’d clustered around. “And they said…no!” He wrinkled his nose. “Aside from buying my lunch, I’m done.”

  Coral put one hand to her hip and shook a finger at him. “You have to buy…oh.”

  He gave her a smug look. “The rest of you have to buy snacks.”

  Raven huffed. “I tried, but you—”

  “Look. The horses are coming,” said Willow, sounding just like she did when diverting her little brothers from an argument.

  Feeling his face heat, Raven turned his back on Beri and his completed tasks. Spells, with only the conversations completed, Raven was as far from the end of his trial as he was from speaking with Willow. He squelched a huff and shoved his tingling fingers into his pockets. He had to find a way to be alone with her again.

  As Salm had promised, the riders paraded the length of the lawn, and each was introduced. Their names were long, and each began with Sir So-and-So, Knight from Wherever. Each listed an impressive number of jousts won—how was that possible?—or ladies in distress rescued and, one, a dragon slain.

  Raven looked around at the others, trying to assess if they believed this rubbish.

  Oyster whispered, “They are pretending here, too, are they not?”

  “Aye,” came several whispered agreements.

  Ah. The announcer described their armor, as well as the types of training and games the real medieval knights would have done to prepare for battle.

  “Good thing we escaped this world before all that happened,” Salm said.

  “The outfits are brilliant, though,” Oyster said.

  “Why are there no women riding as knights?” Coral asked.

  Salm pointed. “The chap in blue? That’s a lass.”

  Raven clapped him on the back. “Only you could pick that out, Salm, my good man.”

  “That’s who I’m rooting for, then!” Coral called at the same time Oyster breathed, “Too bad. He was the cutest.”

  “The one in yellow is nearly as cute,” Willow told him.

  What? Raven studied the bloke. What was it Willow liked about him? Below his face shield, the chap had a neat goatee, which Raven was too young to grow. Neither would he be able to ride a horse or dress like that. Raven scowled. Sword skills, he might be able to manage if he trained…except he didn’t know anyone who fenced. He turned to Beri to comment on the futility of matching this bloke, but Beri was staring out across the lawn, arms crossed.

  Raven nudged him. “You have no reason to grumble when you’ve nearly finished.”

  Beri didn’t even glance at him.

  The riders returned to the far end. While the horses pawed and pranced, young squires ran out with cabbages under each arm. They set the leafy rounds upon the central wooden barriers and ducked away. A horn sounded. At a full gallop, the knights rode past, swinging swords and slicing through the cabbages.

  After several rounds of that, and more of collecting rings onto the ends of lances, they began running at each other with padded poles, attempting to knock one another off their mounts. Coral’s blue rider was eliminated. “She’s not nearly as good at dodging as I am,” Coral muttered.

  Salm flicked one of his sister’s braids good-naturedly. “Maybe she’s not practicing as often. Or, I ken, she doesn’t have as brilliant of an instructor!”

  “Ha! You wish you could take the credit. But I’m that good. You’ll see when I beat you.”

  “If you beat me, you mean.”

  “You’ve got a riding competition like this?” Willow asked. “Someplace you go on the mainland?”

  The siblings stared at each other. “No, not exactly…” Coral pulled at one braid, suddenly becoming busy removing the tie and rebraiding it.

  “’Tis a, uh, sailing thing we do.” Salm gestured vaguely.

  “Right, sailing,” Coral echoed with too much cheer.

  Salm gave a firm nod. “Trying to knock each other off the bow.”r />
  “Hey, Salm? I’m hungry,” Coral said. “Come with me to get food.”

  He didn’t want to, and after they argued a bit, Beri volunteered to go with her.

  “Where will you go?” Raven asked. Beri scowled at him, and Raven raised his hands. “Fine, no need to know.” Sheesh, Beri was worked up.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Salm said lightheartedly. “We’ll wait right here until you return.”

  Beri and Coral left, and the jousts continued. The competitions were better than Raven had expected, and he found himself rooting for the yellow knight despite Willow favoring him. Or maybe because of her interest? These things were becoming confusing.

  After another round ended, the crowd’s clapping became excited calls as each knight moved his banner and a large bag to form a broad circle in the field. Along the rope, other youths leaned over to wave their hands and shout, “Pick me! Pick me!”

  “What do they want to do?” Raven asked.

  With a grin, Salm threw up his hand. “Who cares!”

  The squires marched into the banner circle carrying armloads of foam and wooden weapons like they’d seen the children using earlier. To the cheers of the crowd, they dumped them into a pile and, with waves, came to stand facing their clamoring audience.

  “’Tis time for the faire’s volunteer squire challenge,” the announcer boomed over his loudspeaker. “Sorry, you younger squires, but today’s volunteers must be age thirteen or older!”

  The knights rode on their horses up and down the barrier, hands to their brows and making a show of looking over the calling youth. The blue knight approached.

  “Coral, your fav—oh.” Salm looked around. “She’s not back yet.” He shrugged and waved his hand at the knight. When she looked at him, Salm executed his fancy bow again.

  “Oh, really?” Raven scoffed. “You think that will work?”

  The knight stopped, a broad smile on her face, and reached down to tap Salm’s hand. “Who do I have the pleasure of training today?”

  “Salm, at your service, Lady Knight!” He made another bow.

  She laughed and tossed him a blue tunic, which Salm caught with one hand. “That’s Sir Sarah, Blue Knight and Slayer of the Terrible Toothed Dragon. Come along, squire!”