“The girl should know,” Liam said with a growl, scowling down at Katy. “If she’s willing to throw away her future, she should know what she’s doing.”
Katy wanted to melt into the log.
“Liam,” Donella said sharply, “we discussed this.”
Liam grunted and turned and flew back to the log he’d been sitting on before.
“Please,” Katy said quietly, hoping to turn Donella’s wrath from her friends. “If I’m ignorant in any way—”
“It’s not your fault.” Donella’s face softened slightly as she looked at Katy once again. “And you shall know all that you need to. Just…” She straightened. “Now is not the time or place. Enjoy your supper and rest. We’ve got a busy afternoon ahead of us. And the rest of you.” She glared at each of the others in turn once again, including the fairies behind them. “I’ll have no more of this talk.”
Everyone resumed their meals, but their laughter was quieter and their words even more so. Katy’s mind was spinning, however. She doubted they would answer her direct questions about their previous topic of conversation, but perhaps she could get an answer to another question that had been bothering her since the lesson with Liam. “What did Liam mean about me not knowing?” she asked.
Jagan looked up. “What?”
“Earlier today, when he was training me, Liam said something about me not knowing, and he keeps talking about making foolish decisions. Why does Liam think I’m being foolish?”
“Don’t mind him,” Jagan said in a low voice, but Katy didn’t miss the fleeting look he shared with Nikki. When he spoke again, his words were slow and thoughtful. “Liam’s had a hard time for several years now. Since his wife left him, actually.”
“His wife left him?” Katy echoed.
Jagan frowned. “He loved her, though. Tough old sourpuss he often is, he really did love her. When she left, it devastated him.”
Katy dared a peek at Liam, who was sitting alone at the edge of the camp, staring off into the distance. Though she would have loved to throw her pinecone at him that morning, sorrow now tightened her chest. No wonder he was bitter.
“They tried to make it work for years,” Nikki said, uncharacteristically solemn. Since she had finished her meal, her knitting needles were clacking away again. “When the Higher Chancel—”
“That wasn’t the reason.” Jagan cut in. “She made the decision to leave on her own.” He sighed and put his empty plate down on the ground. “He’s been angry ever since. Don’t take it personally.” He stood and brushed off his trousers. Then, in a louder, more cheerful voice, he said, “I heard you’re not fond of waking before the sun.”
Katy laughed. “I’m afraid you heard right.”
“Well, Donella plans for us to move closer to Spring in a few hours, but would you like to take a short rest first?”
Katy’s immediate reaction was to say no, but when she took stock of herself, she realized that a nap would be most welcome, so she nodded. Nikki gathered her empty plate, for which Katy was thankful. When she stood and turned around, Jagan was holding up the flap of the nearest tent. He beckoned Katy inside but stayed just outside the doorway.
“It’s so warm in here!” She turned around in wonder.
Jagan smiled. It was a nice smile, even and sprinkled with freckles she hadn’t noticed earlier. He pointed at the little candle in the corner. “My gift is sunbeams. I can spread them where they don’t usually go. You know, shadows and night and such. When I made that candle, I bundled a few in the wax.”
“Isn’t it illegal to trade gifts?” Katy asked, wanting very much to touch the candle but not sure she should.
“Well, it’s one of those gray parts of the law. As long as I’m not selling the gift outright, the clan leaders tend to overlook when we…stretch the rules a bit.” He shrugged. “There’s not enough power in that to do anything harmful, just keep the room a bit toasty, that’s all. If it goes out for some reason or you blow it out and want to relight it, I’ve put a few matches beside it on that little chest there beside your water skin.”
“Well,” Katy said, her smile more genuine this time, “I’m grateful then. For everything.”
“My pleasure.” Jagan tipped his hat. “If you need anything at all, just give a shout. Nikki and I will be outside, so you shouldn’t have any trouble hearing her when it’s time to wake up again.” Katy laughed, and he smiled back before letting the flap fall closed.
For a tent, the little room really was as delightful as could be. There was a single pole in the center, and a large leather canvas had been draped over it so the leather canvas fell gracefully to the bottom where it fanned out in a large circle around her. A clean wool gown was draped over a little chest in the far corner of the tent, the one Jagan’s candle sat on top of, and everything rested upon at least three layers of fur rugs. Katy immediately snuggled down under the blankets in the center, which were so warm she couldn’t help wondering if Jagan hadn’t put his sunbeams in those too.
The only thing that would have made the little tent even more comfortable would have been if Peter were snuggling under the covers with her. What she wouldn’t give to have his arms around her and to fall asleep against his warm chest. But if she couldn’t have that now, at least she could pretend. She could also take comfort in knowing that all of this difficulty was for him. Peter was worth it.
13
Answers
Peter groaned and stretched. He was only three days into his week of training, and he was sure that if he had to sit through one more session, his legs were going to fall off from disuse.
“Malachi.” He gestured to the boy, who was standing faithfully against the wall. “When is the next session?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
“Thank Atharo.”
“What was that?” Malachi hurried to keep up as Peter strode out of the hall into the sunlight.
“Nothing.” Peter looked around the courtyard. Many people were clustered in groups, talking amongst themselves, and quite a few looked as drained as he felt. How anyone could stand an entire month of such monotonous meetings was beyond him.
“Your training,” Ethemu had told him several days before, “is to listen.”]
“Listen to what?” Peter had asked.
“Attend the sessions,” Ethemu had said, looking less than interested. “Listen to all that goes on. You’ll understand soon enough.”
“What about history and culture?” Peter had pressed as Ethemu turned and began to walk away. “I thought I was supposed to be learning about our people.”
“I’ll send you a book.” Ethemu hadn’t even bothered to turn.
Well, Peter had attended the sessions. He had listened until he was ready to jump off a cliff after just three days. And now he needed something new, something to keep his mind off of what Katy might be doing when it wandered from the all-encompassing sessions. So when he looked at Malachi once more, he had an idea.
“Didn’t you say you live in the village?
“I do. In the center, near the market square.”
“Then perhaps you could give me a tour.” He tried to give the boy an assuring smile. “I’ll buy you lunch at the market if you say yes.”
But instead of looking as enthusiastic as usual, Malachi frowned slightly. “You…want me to take you to the village?”
“Is that a problem?”
Malachi paused. “No, but I mean…”
“Just say it.”
Malachi took a deep breath and began again. “I don’t mean to be insolent, but the chancel will not like it.”
“Is it forbidden?”
Malachi looked at his feet. “No. But they rather discourage it.”
“That only makes me more curious.” He gave the boy an ornery grin. “How about this? If anyone asks you about it, you can send them straight to me.”
Malachi peeked up at him through his dark lashes. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Malachi beamed b
ack. “Alright then. We’ll start with my favorite street vendor.”
Peter followed him out of the courtyard and down a path he hadn’t noticed before. “And what does he sell?”
Malachi turned back as he walked, his eyes twinkling. “Sugar.”
When they were riding up to the castle on the main cobblestone highway, Peter hadn’t realized just how much the road rose up to meet the palace complex. But now he could see that the road had been built up quite high in order to keep it completely separate from the village that existed below. The lines of houses and shops were crowded but neat, and they had been painted all different colors.
“Why are the houses all so different?” Peter asked as they made their way down the first street. There were thatched roofs, tiled roofs, boxed windows, windows with window box gardens, large tents, and houses with roofs that were slanted so hard they came to a sharp point at the top. Some houses had many rooms, and others seemed to be made of only one room. There were roundhouses, flat-roofed houses, and little cottages that looked nearly small enough to house children.
“This isle has always been a place of respite,” Malachi said as he weaved in and out of the crowd. “When people don’t have a place to go on their own isle, as long as they aren’t running from the law, they are allowed to come here.”
Peter nearly tripped over a runaway squash after it bounced out of a cart someone was unloading in front of a stall. “Is it always so busy?”
“No.” Malachi gestured at a corner stall on the other side of the open space they’d just entered. Dozens of stalls and tents filled the square. Peter could feel every eye fixed on him, but Malachi seemed either completely unaffected by this or completely unaware. “Visiting servants take up quarters in the inns. The inns are built specifically for this weekend, you know. Some traders and merchants come just for this month as well. Over here.”
Peter nearly laughed aloud when he looked at the trader’s goods. “You weren’t teasing when you said sugar.” Dozens of sparkling, frosted delicacies were piled high on pretty glass dishes. Sugar covered nuts, sugar covered fruits, even sugar covered flowers gleamed in the noontime sun. There were even several little bowls of sugar cubes decorated with rose petals all their own. “Alright,” Peter said with a laugh, “get what you want.”
Malachi gaped. “As much as I want?”
“As much as your mother will approve of.”
The light in Malachi’s eyes died a little at this requirement, but it wasn’t long before he’d chosen ten or so candies for himself and several more for his family. Peter paid for the sweets. While they waited for the trader to wrap the treats neatly in a paper package, something bright in the square caught his eye.
“What are the palace guards doing here?” he asked Malachi quietly.
Malachi turned and paled slightly when he saw the guard. “I’m not sure.” They watched as the guard walked past the stalls and into a little shop with shoes hanging in the window. Peter decided to get a better look.
“Where are you going?” Malachi snatched the package from the trader and ran to catch up with him. “We’re not supposed to get involved with the guards!”
Peter turned and gave him a wry smile. “We’re not?”
Malachi froze momentarily. “I’m not.” he hurried to catch up again. “But Donella won’t like it if you do!”
“Donella is not my fairy, nor is she my orator. Besides…” Peter paused on the threshold of the little store. “I suddenly have an urgent need for shoes.” With that, he ducked into the little shop.
“I’m telling you, I don’t have enough!” The red-faced woman behind the long work counter had her hands on her hips and was staring up at the guard. “I don’t carry enough leather to make six pairs of shoes, and I certainly don’t have enough to provide them for free!” Several people were standing in the little shop as well, all looking quite uncomfortable.
“My orders are to bring six pairs of shoes to the palace by tonight,” the guard said. He had dark skin, much like King Akello, and his speaking cadence was similar as well.
“And how am I supposed to make any money when I have no shoes to sell? My son cannot go hunting every day. The law forbids it!”
The guard pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned on the counter. “I have no wish to starve you or your children. But orders must be followed. You know what happens when they are not.”
The woman’s face turned white and her lips trembled as if she might cry, but she still shook her head. “I cannot give you the shoes. They’re all spoken for and nearly done for customers who have already paid. I just can’t.”
“Would you like to be arrested for resisting an order?” the guard spat. “Then how will you feed your family?”
The woman puffed her chest out and swallowed hard. “My eldest can do it. He’s nearly fourteen. He could run the shop and take care of his sisters.” Then she sneered. “King Ethemu can have me, but my children will eat!”
The man lunged forward and grabbed the woman by the shoulders of her dress. “I will not be arrested by my own superiors because of you!” he shouted. “I promised my wife I would not orphan our children! So you’re going to come with me, and I’m going to bring you in like I was ordered!”
The guard was stronger than Peter had anticipated, but he was between them in a flash, and with some difficulty he pried the man off of the shopkeeper. The guard threw a punch, but Peter ducked and knocked him off balance with a well-aimed kick. The guard stumbled, then regained his balance. He looked as though he might run at Peter again until he made eye contact with him.
“Your Highness!” He backed up another few steps.
“Yes, my highness,” Peter snapped. “Now, before you attempt beating a woman again, I have a question.”
The guard just stared at Peter. Everyone, including Malachi and the people who had gathered around him at the door, stared at Peter.
“What happens?” Peter asked.
“What?” the guard echoed.
“What happens when orders aren’t followed?” Peter repeated. Everyone around him exchanged glances, but no one spoke. He looked around then refocused on the guard. “What happens?”
No one spoke for a long time, but just as Peter was about to grab the guard and shake the answer from him, Malachi stepped forward.
“They don’t like us to talk about it, but…” He glanced around. “I’ll tell you if you come with me.”
Peter had half a mind to sit everyone in the shop down until someone told him, but the wide eyes of the children behind the cobbler’s counter made him think otherwise. Instead, he turned to the guard.
“Who are the shoes for?”
The guard regarded him warily. “You’re not my king.”
“No. But I’m attempting to make this situation better for the sake of the children you mentioned. Now, if you really do love them, you’ll tell me who the shoes are for.”
The guard dropped his eyes and let his shoulders slump. “A family from the First Isle went to Ethemu yesterday. Their house burned, so they came here. Haven’t been able to afford much yet. He promised them shoes and sent me to find them.”
Peter looked at the cobbler. “How much would six pairs of shoes cost?”
The poor woman looked as though she wanted run, but she finally told him a price. Peter pulled out the little coin purse he kept on the inside of his belt and counted the money. It left him dangerously little, as he hadn’t brought much. He hadn’t been expecting to need to buy anything while at the summit. To his relief, however, there was just enough with two pieces left over. He handed the woman the money. No one spoke as he followed Malachi out of the shop.
When they outside, Malachi turned to him. “That was very dangerous what you just did,” he whispered over his shoulder.
***
“So?” Peter said when they were several streets over. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?”
Malachi paused and mumbled something incoherent before
continuing their quick pace.
“What was that?”
“Um, it’s probably best if we wait until we get to my house.”
“Malachi.” Peter took the boy’s shoulder and turned him around before kneeling so they were face to face. “What’s wrong?”
Malachi stared at the ground for a long time. Peter was beginning to regret asking the boy for the tour altogether when Malachi took a deep breath and whispered just loud enough to hear, “May I speak my mind, Your Highness?”
Peter crossed his arms. “I would appreciate that.”
Malachi took a deep breath. “I…I simply wish to see you succeed. And I think you are quite wise. It’s just that…everything you do seems to be done to spite the chancels. Not to please them.” He looked up at Peter. “Is that your intent?”
Peter felt a wry smile rise, despite his dour mood. “My uncle used to wonder the same thing. And do you know what I always told him?”
Malachi shook his head, his brown eyes wide.
“I told him that as long as I was doing what was right, I believed Atharo would keep me, even when men disapproved.” He paused. “I’m often wrong. But I like to think that when I choose a path, I can choose it with my whole self. It’s all or nothing.”
Malachi still frowned, but he did nod.
Peter looked back at the street. “How far are we from your house?”
“Only two streets over.”
Peter nodded, so they continued. Not wanting to make the boy any more uncomfortable than he already was, however, he decided to choose a less objectionable topic of conversation.
“How do you know so much about the isle and its history?”
“I told you.” Malachi glanced over his shoulder, his smile a bit ornery. “I love this place. It offered my family a home when we had none. I wish to see it restored to its former glory.” His eyes sparked just a little. “I hope you’re the one to restore it.”
Not wanting to dwell on the prospect of his chance at the tree, Peter changed subjects. “I’ve noticed the fae are similar in most of their appearances, particularly their light complexion. Why is it then that so many of the humans differ in appearance by isle? I thought we were all descended from the High King and his people.”
The Autumn Fairy of Ages Page 12
