Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1)

by Jonathan Renshaw

  On three, all six boys wrenched the cloth up and shouted at the tops of their voices.

  The tender embrace came to a sudden end. The young man shrieked and flung the girl from him as he made good his escape. He fled into the side of a wagon with a sharp “Oof!” and a forward flop of his plumed hair. The hair got in his eyes but he resumed his flight nonetheless, swerving and tottering until he had his vision back.

  Peashot’s laughter was so overpowering that he dropped to the ground hugging his belly as the spasms shook him. The others were equally helpless. The girl, however, showed herself to be far from helpless when she snatched up a broom and proceeded to wallop them from the tent.

  “You little pile of blatherswabs! Snogsbrollies! Grudderbungs!”

  At this point the young man, realising what had happened, made a dashing and heroic return. But now the girl wanted nothing to do with a man who had tossed her aside in his fright. Accordingly, she applied the broom to his twitching frame. The boys roared with laughter and that drew the attention back to them. They stumbled away, clutching their sides while trying to dodge the yelling assailant. By the time they reached the top of their grassy bank, they were utterly drained, and dropped down with gasps of contentment. Little ripples of chuckling continued to wash over them.

  “Can you imagine what he would have done if it had been at night, and lonely?” said Peashot. “He would have squeezed down a mole tunnel to escape.”

  “Or climbed a moonbeam,” said Lorrimer.

  “Where’d you get that? You haven’t been reading poetry, have you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Anybody know what a snogsbrollie is?” Aedan asked. “Is that one of your southern words?”

  “Not southern,” said Hadley. “I would know if it was from here. I think she’s from out west. She had a whole collection of strange words. Vayle, don’t you know?”

  “Those weren’t the kinds of words I tried to learn, but I think a snogsbrollie is what ends up on your handkerchief when you have a bad cold.”

  Aedan laughed. “Good thing she was looking at Hadley when she said it.”

  “Well a grudderbung is worse, and she definitely aimed that one at you.”

  “It was worth it.”

  They spent a good while longer congratulating themselves on their little success.

  Hadley was the first to recover his thoughtful composure and he sat up to survey the grounds. “Hey, that’s the bossy official who chased us away. What’s he doing now?”

  The others looked up to see the official shaking his head and pointing an old couple away from their prime location on the main walkway. They had obviously arrived early and set up their little table in a good spot, but now they were being chased off and directed to a gap in the last tier of food stalls. The old man was waving his arms in frustration and the woman’s face was in her hands. None of it moved the official who thrust his chin forward in what was clearly a threatening glare as he pointed.

  Another group was standing nearby with a cart full of tables, pots, and tent materials. As the old couple began to relocate, the official drifted across to the larger group. The movement was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Aedan spotted the purse change hands.

  “It was a bribe!” he said. “They just bribed that pig-headed official to chase away the ones that got there first.”

  “What’s a bribe?” asked Kian.

  “When you give money to someone to make them do something wrong.”

  “Oh. We are calling it taking of the coin for conscience. But aren’t officials meant to be stopping of this?”

  “S’posed to.”

  Aedan was watching the old couple as they struggled to drag their table over to the indicated space. His face was going red and it had nothing to do with the sun.

  Something snapped in him and he leapt to his feet and ran down the bank. When he reached the scene, he asked the couple if he could help with the carrying. Before they had finished expressing their gratitude, the other boys had gathered around. Between them they carried the two heavy pots and several crates of ingredients. The old lady was trying to smile but kept hiding her face. Before they were done, names had been exchanged and the couple had introduced themselves as Coren and Enna.

  “You are very kind,” Coren said when they had finished transporting the goods. “Not many youngsters take the initiative to help us more … uh … wise and mature ones,” he said with a wink to his wife.

  She attempted a frail smile but turned away and this time was unable to conceal the waterworks. It was clear that there was more on her mind than a change in location.

  Coren explained. “We got to that spot early because we need to sell a lot of stew if we are to keep our little cottage. This was our last chance. We have very wealthy in-laws, but they would sooner throw money down a well than give it to us. They see poverty as a disease only made worse by charity.” He looked around. “From back here we might sell half a pot a day – nobody will notice our table among all these tents. We need to sell at least two pots a day or we’ll be without a roof by the end of the month.”

  “The official was bribed,” Aedan said.

  “I expected so, but there’s nothing we can do now. Fighting with the officials will only get us thrown out. Still, we are very grateful for your help.”

  Aedan stepped back, taking in the single table dwarfed by the surrounding tents and banners. A thoughtful look crept over him.

  “Kian,” he said. “Your father here today?”

  “Of course. He is doing building on tents and stands all over. There is lots of fixing work wanting for carpenters here.”

  “Any chance you could borrow a hammer and maybe a saw?”

  “Let me ask. I’ll be back in a flush.”

  “Flash,” said Vayle.

  “Oh, thanks.” Kian sped away as Aedan paced and cradled his chin. He wasn’t sure if the chin-cradling helped him think, but he had often seen William doing it when trying to solve some problem, and it had always looked so grand.

  “Got an idea, Aedan?” asked Hadley.

  Aedan emerged from his thoughts. “Remember those scraps of material around the back where we had the apple war earlier?”

  The others nodded.

  “I’m sure I remember some broken crates, leftover poles and discarded rope too. If Kian finds a hammer, we can pull nails and rework the crates into a big table. If we get a saw, we can cut the poles to the right lengths and put up a frame for the cloth. Maybe we can get it bigger than the other tents here.”

  “How about a banner?” said Lorrimer. “I might be able to get some paint from my uncle. He hates bribes. If I tell him the story he might even paint a sign properly.”

  “Boys, you are very thoughtful,” said Enna, who had been listening, “but I can’t ask you to spend your whole day working for us. We can’t pay you, you know that.”

  “But we can pay you,” said Hadley. “We’ve all been given enough for two meals, and if you can promise us two full portions at four copper huddies each, then we’ll be smiling.”

  Enna looked like she didn’t know what to say. Coren answered. “You won’t take the meals without paying will you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then all I can do is assure you that these will be the best four-huddy meals of your life.” He smiled at Enna who blushed at the compliment.

  “Settled,” said Hadley with deep gravity, as if he had just struck a trade agreement that would alter the fate of nations.

  After a little while Kian skidded around the corner and almost had an accident with the saw and hammer.

  “Let’s go,” said Aedan. “I’ve got a couple more ideas to make this the best fun of the day yet.”

  “Now that … that is rancid!” Vayle choked, staggering away as Aedan tipped the barrel. A thick ooze of semi-liquid potatoes crawled onto the ground and lay bubbling in the sun, killing grass and poisoning the air.

  “It’s perfect!” said
Peashot, in unfeigned admiration of the plan. “This is definitely going to be the best part of the day!”

  Aedan grinned. He was looking forward to it too, but carpentry was first on the list, and the less he had to do with it, the better for all. He could build traps and slings and such, but had never got the knack for what needed to be done now. His forts had always been better at falling down than standing up, and he’d never really had enough of an interest to work out why. Kian, however, was right at home with wood and tools. After making a quick inventory of what was available, he began allotting tasks.

  Aedan and Peashot cut the cloth into sections that Kian measured off; Lorrimer joined the numerous scraps of rope to make useful lengths; Hadley knocked the crates apart, preserving the nails; and Kian and Vayle cut and spliced poles until they had enough for a large frame. When all the materials were ready, they carried them to the back-row stand where Coren and Enna were setting up pots and ingredients on their little table.

  The boys drew a fair amount of attention with their burdens, and even more when they began to hammer and hoist. Kian showed himself to be something of a young master as he managed his team. All his quiet reserve was forgotten; even Hadley jumped at the lash of his tongue.

  The frame went up. It towered over the neighbouring stalls. Ropes were used to secure it in place with stakes cut from branches. Thinner twines were used to haul cloth over the frame and secure it in place, and two poles that stood out front had cords threaded over their tops so that a banner could be hoisted. After deciding what the banner should say, Lorrimer ran off with the cloth to beg his uncle’s help.

  Kian and Hadley arranged the planks that had been salvaged from the crates. They nailed together a huge table that ran the length of the stall, and two long flanking benches. Kian examined the tarnished wood with a critical eye and announced that it needed a cloth covering, so Aedan and Peashot were sent to scrounge for more. When they came back with the cloth, they stretched and secured it, wrapping even the supports so that the result looked impressively clean and neat.

  Lorrimer returned an hour later with a banner painted in dazzling blue. Using the cords, they hoisted the sign to the top of the posts and stood back to admire the result. Ennas Ecselent Stews flapped grandly over the large tent.

  Aedan frowned. It didn’t look quite right. He remembered that Lorrimer had been illiterate, and wondered how much this uncle knew about the letters he had painted. As he looked around he spotted a few amused smiles, but nobody said anything so he let it go.

  The building had taken until early afternoon, and now a deep lull of contentment settled on them as they admired their work.

  “Kian, I am impressed,” said Aedan. “This is a fine stall. Makes all the others around look almost shoddy.”

  Kian beamed.

  Enna hugged them and Coren gripped their forearms and gave them each a large hollowed barley loaf filled to the brim with stew.

  The loaves had been freshly baked a few stalls away and the aroma of the bread was compelling, but it was insipid against Enna’s stew. The vapours drifting out of her large copper pot were nothing short of entrancing. Mutton, sweet potato, onions, celery, mushrooms, rosemary, thyme, pinches of this and that, and something secret in a bronze gourd that never left her side had blended into a meal that defied description.

  The boys had been quick to hand over their coins – despite Coren’s protests – so they could begin filling their mouths. Even Peashot was unable to speak until the last crumb was gone and he sat back to lick his fingers with a look of complete satisfaction.

  “That was the best meal I’ve ever had!” he said, and for once Lorrimer was deprived of leftovers.

  The rest agreed and showered the old lady with compliments.

  When everyone was done, Aedan suggested that Enna make the second pot of stew. “I think it will sell,” he told her with an enigmatic grin as he led the way to the next objective in the plan.

  It took a while to round up the boys from the apple war, but when they had found enough of them, they explained what had happened, what they had done, and what they planned. The boys gritted their teeth at the outrage, stared with fascination at the new banner which could be seen from a good distance, and shrieked with laughter at the plan.

  Aedan led them to the fetid potatoes and the new boys were not disappointed with the force of the aroma. Aedan and Hadley agreed that it would not be wise for them – the builders of Enna’s tent – to hang around while this particular operation was in progress, so they drifted off to a tiered grandstand from where they could watch.

  Two boys went to the back of the intruding tent that now stood in Enna’s original spot. They hoisted the flap and made enough noise to draw the furious attentions of the manager and all three cooks, while four boys leaned in the front and dumped little smelly handfuls into the pots.

  “They did that perfectly,” said Peashot with a hint of disappointment, no doubt, at being excluded.

  The results were not immediate, but they were impressive. Cooks started arguing and pointing as they wrinkled their noses. The manager raised his voice over theirs and restored order as a customer arrived and seated himself at the table. He only took one bite.

  He didn’t swallow.

  The manager should have given the man his money back because the shouting that ensued carried well over the showground and warned off a number of would-be patrons. The front row position now worked against the stall and many of the hungry drifted away from the yells of “rotten” and “poison” and several other deeply felt expressions, to the bright blue sign.

  Over the course of the afternoon, parents were begged to take boys to the stall that had food “better than golden honey cakes”, as Peashot had put it; labourers came to inspect the work of the young marshal apprentices who had used their tools and paint, and here they encountered trails of persuasive vapours and found themselves instantly hungry; and curious strollers altered course to see who Enna was and found a busy table and satisfied expressions. So for the remainder of the day there was a queue outside the stall. Coren had to make more than one trip to buy additional ingredients with the money that was flowing in.

  The boys, after promising to return later, decided to explore the rest of the fairgrounds. As they moved off, Aedan stopped and pointed.

  “Who’s that?” he asked.

  Down the line of tents, partly hidden by a stack of barrels, stood a tall man wearing a low grey hat that concealed his face.

  Nobody could identify him before he slipped behind a tent.

  “I’m sure I saw him before,” Aedan said. “Almost looked like he was watching us.”

  The others weren’t deeply interested. There were much more compelling things on their minds.

  But the man’s behaviour worried Aedan. What possible reason would anyone have for watching them from the shadows? The absence of an obvious answer bothered him more than a suspicion even of robbery. Could the stranger be a Fenn spy? But that was hardly possible considering the large number of patrolling soldiers.

  He turned it over in his mind for a while and decided, in spite of the plentiful distractions calling for his attention, to remain alert.

  Their earlier wanderings had covered just a portion of the grounds. They now took themselves on an exploration of the lanes, arenas, tents and stands on the far side. From spices to farming tools, brass and clay trinkets to porcelain statuettes, magical charms to weapons – where festival security officials presided in number – it seemed that anything that money could buy was on display.

  There was far more than the city’s usual variety, for travelling merchants were even more plentiful than the local ones. They brought with them strange articles that wealthy landowners and nobles found irresistible – partly because they were foreign, but mostly because they were expensive and therefore essential trophies, however useless they might otherwise be.

  Aedan overheard a richly dressed woman being told that the speckled stone in her hand was
worth three silver chims. That was enough to buy a good wheelbarrow. For a stone? He wondered if the merchant would fill a bag with chunks of dolerite along the road and sell the grey rocks for the same price again in the region where he’d found the speckled ones. The merchant’s wares had no hold on the boys and they moved along.

  There was a gloomy booth across the lane attended by a man in midnight-amethyst robes adorned with the strangest symbols. Here were all manner of magical garments, charms, weapons, and potions in little glass vials of every colour imaginable. There were potions to make people smarter, stronger, younger, healthier, more attractive, shorter or taller. Peashot and Lorrimer remained long at the shelf, staring at the last two bottles.

  “Does the magic work?” Lorrimer asked the wizard-storekeeper.

  Before he could reply, Hadley barged in. “Of course it works. But all the potions do the same magic – they make money disappear. Come on, you woolheads.” He gave them a shove, ignoring the wrath building on the wizard’s brow, and they progressed through to a livelier part of the grounds.

  The next stall almost coaxed everyone’s dinner money from them. Here, all things honey were on delectable display. It wasn’t just the cakes. A whole range of delights winked at them from the table – honey brittle in the shapes of horseshoes, keys and spoons; honey frosted over plums and apples; honey-and-oatmeal biscuits; and blends of honey with cream and crushed nuts served in little wafer bowls.

  The smoke of grilled sausages drifted from another quarter and reminded the boys that they would still need to buy supper. They wrenched themselves away, casting longing looks behind them, and pushed on.

  All except Lorrimer.

  He tried bravely, but after a dozen steps, came to a stop with a broken whimpering sound. Then he turned and rushed back to the honey store where he flung down his remaining coins and scooped up a pile of sweet and gluey things that he carried away in hands, pockets and mouth.

  “How can you be that hungry?” Peashot asked. “We just ate.”

  Lorrimer tried to reply, but nobody could understand the sticky sounds. After two attempts he gave up and resigned himself to a quiet ecstasy of chewing.