The Thief Queen's Daughter

by Elizabeth Haydon

  “How much is the one that makes someone’s mouth vanish?” Char asked.

  “Twenty gold crowns,” said the man. Char sighed, looked at Clem, then shook his head.

  “Wouldn’t you like to be able to speak with animals, little girl?” the potion seller asked Saeli. “I can sell you a potion that would make it possible.”

  Saeli just smiled, and the other children laughed.

  “Come on, let’s keep looking around,” said Ven, walking away from the potion booth. “Let’s see if we can find the fortune-teller.”

  They walked past kiosks where giant puppets shaped like butterflies and birds were being sold, past muffin sellers and men wandering the streets with large barrels of roasted turkey legs. Char clutched his stomach again.

  “As soon as we find the fortune-teller, I’m gettin’ somethin’ to eat,” he muttered. “This is torture, bloody torture.”

  “Whether we find her or not, we’ll have noon-meal after this,” Ven promised. “Even though you would still be serving breakfast if we were back at the inn.”

  They passed a large booth above which colorful kites were fluttering in the air until they came to a huge fountain, splashing silvery water at its edges.

  In the center of the fountain was a large display of what looked like dollhouse-sized cottages, stores, taverns, and houses. They formed a street scene very much like Kingston or Vaarn, with hundreds of little human figures positioned in the sorts of places they would be if it were a real city. Groups of toy women carrying baskets seemed to be talking together, toy men on rooftops appeared as if they were fixing the roofs, hammering with toy tools. Mechanical merchants showed their wares to toy shoppers. A tiny wooden goose girl drove a flock of even tinier wooden geese through the streets. All the figures were moving and making sound, apparently powered by the force of the fountain’s splashing water.

  Many bright coins sparkled at the bottom of a deep channel filled with water around the outer ring of the fountain.

  “Do you think this is the fountain Mr. Coates meant?” asked Nick, staring at it.

  Clem glanced around. “I don’t see another one.”

  Saeli pointed ahead of them.

  “Dream seller,” she said in her low, scratchy voice.

  The others followed her finger.

  A booth formed of deep blue silk stood to one side of a round black tent, its drapes pulled back and tacked with filmy fabric that resembled clouds. Hints of fog swept out from beneath its drapes, and above the doorway a moon-shaped sign read DREAMS.

  “Well, there it is, if you’re still interested,” Clemency said to Char.

  “I never said I was interested,” Char replied curtly. “I just don’t get how you buy a dream. I bet these people would sell a burp if they could get hold of it. And some fool would buy it.”

  “And there’s the toymaker,” Nick said, pointing to the other side of the black tent. “So this here in the middle must be your fortune-teller, Ven.”

  “If she’s there,” Ven agreed. “Mr. Coates says you can’t always find her.”

  “Well, if you’re going to find out about the glowing stone, I don’t think we have much choice,” said Clemency. “Shall we go inside?”

  Ven’s skin was itching with excitement. “Absolutely!” he said. “Come on.”

  Unlike the booths to the left and right of it, the round black tent had no sign above it, nor any kind of banner out in front. Waving from the point in the middle of the top was a white flag with nothing more than what looked like a sketch of an eye. In the center of the iris was a star. A flap in the tent hung open in the front. Otherwise there appeared to be no door.

  Ven pulled the heavy flap of the tent aside and stepped out of the way for the others to enter. Saeli looked at him nervously as Nick and Clem went into the darkness, then followed them as Char brought up the rear. Ven stepped in last, letting go of the tent flap.

  As soon as he dropped the flap, all but the thinnest line of light at the bottom of the tent drapes disappeared, leaving them all in blackness.

  “I can’t see a thing, Ven,” Clem called from the front of the line. “What do you want to do?”

  “I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” said Nick nervously.

  Ven reached into his pocket and took out the glowing stone. Its light looked a little bit like that of the moon on a misty evening.

  “Is this better?” he asked, holding it up.

  Once the light was out of Ven’s pocket, they could see that they were in the outer ring of the tent, with black walls forming a hallway that circled around. On the black fabric of the walls were black satin symbols, letters in an alphabet or language that Ven did not recognize. There was something familiar about the writing, but he could not place what it was. The symbols were visible only when the light hit them, disappearing into the darkness when it moved on.

  “I feel like I’ve seen this writing before,” Ven said quietly. “Anybody else?”

  “It doesn’t look familiar at all to me,” Clem said. Her voice sounded strained. “I don’t think I like this place, Ven. It makes me uncomfortable. Maybe we should leave.”

  “If you want to leave you can, Clem. Anybody else who’s nervous should go as well,” Ven said. “But this seems to be my best way of finding out about the glowing stone, so I think I’ll stay, at least for a few minutes more.”

  “Well, if you’re stayin’, I’m stayin’,” Char insisted. “Cap’n Snodgrass told me to look out for you, after all. Can’t really do that from outside.”

  They continued around the curving dark corridor until they came to what they thought was the place they had come in. The flap they had come in through was not visible. Instead, there were unbroken walls of fabric, and more corridor ahead of them.

  “Madame Sharra?” Ven called. His voice seemed to be swallowed in the heat of the heavy black cloth.

  “There’s no one here, Ven,” Nick said. “I agree with Clem—this place is giving me the pricklies. Let’s go.”

  As the words left his mouth, a golden glow appeared behind the wall of fabric to their left, followed by a rainbow flash, a quick burst of color Ven had seen several times before, once while looking over the wall into the Gated City for the first time.

  And once inside the Rover’s box.

  As quickly as it had come, the colorful burst of light was gone.

  The tent wall in that place appeared to be thinner, of lighter fabric. Behind it appeared to be the shape of a very tall woman who, like the king’s stone, seemed to radiate her own soft light. The image was fuzzy through the cloth, but Ven could see that her eyes were enormous. She drew aside the drape of the fabric like opening a door.

  * * *

  Getting a good look at her was far more frightening than being in the dark of the tent.

  The woman was clearly of another race, one I had never seen, not even in Vaarn, where all kinds of people pass through. She was extremely tall, taller perhaps than anyone I had seen since coming to Serendair. Her forehead was wide, and her face tapered down to a narrow chin. Her skin was gold, not like the golden tan sailors get from being outside in the sun all their lives, but gold like the color of the sun itself. But the most extraordinary things about her were her eyes. They were entirely gold, even the parts that would normally be white on a human or a Nain, with darker gold irises.

  Her face was completely expressionless.

  The only thing I could tell for certain was that she was watching me.

  * * *

  “Madame—Sharra?” Ven stammered.

  The woman’s eyes seemed to cast around at each of the children. Then she looked back at Ven.

  She said nothing.

  Ven’s skin, already tingling, stung with nervous energy. He tried to look into the dark area behind her, but saw nothing. In the glow that radiated from her he could see the black satin symbols on the tent walls to the left and right of the opening more clearly. The one on the right closest to the door seemed familiar. He c
oncentrated, trying to remember where he had seen it. When he did, his eyes opened wide.

  “I know where I’ve seen that symbol before,” he said to Char, who was standing beside him, trembling slightly. “That’s the same writing I saw on that thin stone in the Rover’s box.”

  Before Char could answer, the woman’s long arm shot out from behind the drape. She seized Ven by the collar of his shirt in a grip stronger than his brother Luther’s.

  And dragged him into the depths of the tent.

  With a soft whoosh, all the flaps of the tent slammed shut, plunging the remaining children into darkness where they stood.

  10

  Madame Sharra

  TELL ME,” COMMANDED THE GOLDEN WOMAN.

  Her voice was soft and clear, with a low music in it, like the song of the wind on an especially dark night. It sounded like it came from another place, another time.

  It was also as sharp and deadly as the weapons in Mr. Coates’s shop.

  From behind the tent walls Ven could hear his friends panicking, calling to him and to each other. Their voices were muffled by the fabric as they stumbled around in the dark.

  “Please,” he said, his throat tight and dry in her grasp. “I don’t know what you mean. Please let me go.”

  The tall woman’s deadly grip tightened, choking off the air in his throat.

  “Where did you see it?”

  Ven’s mind was starting to darken. He felt like he was about to pass out. He struggled to remain conscious, fearing what would happen to him and to his friends if he didn’t.

  “The stone?” he asked woozily.

  The golden eyes narrowed.

  Ven did not know what to say, but he knew that his life was hanging in the balance now. He decided that a woman who could see the future could also tell if he was lying, so he took his chances with the truth.

  “I—I saw something—inside—a Rover’s box—” he stammered, his voice coming out in a rasp. He struggled to breathe, but each breath hurt worse. “It was a—a—thin stone—or something like it—sort of gray—with what looked like a picture of a keyhole on it. It—it sparkled—the same way your tent did—when we first—came in—”

  “Where?” the woman demanded again.

  “At the—crossroads,” Ven whispered. “Outside—Kingston. The box is closed—now—and buried.”

  The air rushed back into his lungs as the woman released him.

  Ven’s hand went to his neck. He rubbed his throat, trying to soothe the sting out of it.

  The tall golden woman turned away for a moment, and extended her hand. In it was a thin tablet of stone, about the size of Ven’s palm. It was inscribed with the same symbol that was on the flag above her tent, an eye with a star in the iris.

  “Give this to the others,” she ordered. “Tell them to go find food. Give this to the soup seller, and they will not have to pay.”

  Ven looked down at the stone in his hand and blinked. “Uh—”

  “You came here for answers,” the woman said. “You will not be able to hear them spoken above their noise. Tell your friends to wait for you at the fountain when they are done.”

  “For—for how long?”

  “If you still have not come when the warning bell rings, they should make their way out of the gate,” said the tall golden woman. “If you still wish to know what you came here to learn, send them away. Now.”

  * * *

  I have never been more confused than I was at that moment. A few seconds before I was fairly certain I was going to die in her grip. Now she was giving me a marker so that my friends could get food in the Market without paying for it. In the back of my mind I wondered if I should run, but I wondered if I would get out of the tent alive.

  So I decided to do what she said.

  And that I really needed to speak to the king about these assignments he sends me on.

  If I lived, that is.

  * * *

  “All right,” Ven said.

  The woman held the tent flap open.

  Ven stepped out into the darkness of the outer tunnel and held up the glowing stone. “Char, Clem,” he called quickly. “Saeli, Nick, here!”

  A moment later all four of his friends appeared, the girls from the left, the boys from the right.

  “Blimey, Ven, what happened to you?” Char demanded. “Let’s get the heck out of here.”

  “Calm down,” Ven said. “I’m not done with my reading. Here, take this to the food vendors and get that early noon-meal you’ve been craving. If you show it to them, you won’t have to pay.”

  The cook’s mate shook his head in disbelief. “I was wrong,” he said. “I must’ve bought a dream and didn’t know it. This one’s a doozy. Wake me up.”

  A vertical line of light appeared in the tent wall in front of them. Ven took hold of the flap and opened it easily. The blindingly bright light of day spilled into the dark tent.

  “Go on,” he said. “Meet me at the fountain when you’re done. If you hear the warning bell, and I’m not back, get out of the Market, and tell Mrs. Snodgrass what happened to me.”

  One by one, his friends filed out of the opening, looking back at him nervously. Char went through last.

  “You sure about this?” he asked.

  “No,” said Ven. “But go anyway. And take this.” He handed Char the wrapped gauntlet, then dropped the tent flap and was back in the darkness once more.

  In the center of the tent, the glow returned, joined by more tiny lights. The tent flap in front of him opened, allowing him into the inner chamber. Ven came inside.

  The golden woman now sat behind a table made of glass, with smaller movable tables above it, also of glass. All around her inner chamber were candles of different heights, their wicks gleaming with warm flame, releasing a woody scent into the air. The odor of the candles made the thickness that had been hovering in Ven’s head disappear, leaving his mind clear.

  Beside the table was an hourglass taller than Ven, filled with pure white sand. Ven had seen hourglasses many times, but this one was far larger and more strangely shaped than any he had ever encountered. From the upper bowl a long thin pipe of sorts protruded, like the spout on a teakettle.

  In front of the table was a plain black stool made of wood.

  “Sit,” said the woman.

  Ven bowed as politely as he could, considering he had been dangling from her grasp, choking to death, a few moments before.

  “First, before I do, are you in fact Madame Sharra? I need to be accurate for my journal.”

  The thin golden woman smiled slightly for the first time, and nodded once.

  “Thank you,” Ven said. He sat down on the black stool before the table.

  “What do you seek to know?” Madame Sharra asked. Her dark gold eyes glinted in the dim light.

  Ven thought about what Mr. Coates had said. “What can you tell me?” he asked in return.

  The fortune-teller smiled more broadly. She nodded at the hourglass. “Touch the upper bowl,” she directed.

  Ven reached out and let his hand come to rest on the hourglass. It was warm and felt tingly beneath his fingers. Then he put his hand back in his lap.

  Madame Sharra took hold of the hourglass by the golden handle at the thinnest part of the middle. She shook it slightly, then turned it as if she were going to flip it over. Instead, she poured a generous amount of sand from it onto the glass table through the spout. Then she passed her hand over it.

  Before Ven’s eyes, the sand took on the shape of an eye.

  “Someone is watching you,”

  Madame Sharra said.

  “Well, yes,” Ven said, trying not to sound disrespectful. “We’re in a thieves’ market. Apparently everyone is watching everyone.”

  The golden-eyed woman did not break her gaze away from his. Instead, she passed her hand over the sand again, and this time it took on the shape of a bird.

  “Someone is watching you from afar,” she said pointedly.

&nbs
p; “Oh! You mean the albatross! Yes. That bird is very odd—she’s been following me since my birthday, all the way from Vaarn,” Ven said. He started to explain to the fortune-teller about how the albatross saved him from the sea by flying in great circles around him when he was adrift, but then shut his mouth quickly. Mr. Coates’s words came back to him.

  I would not ask Sharra anything, lad. A lot of people do, and I imagine she learns a great deal more than she needs to that way. I would see what she has to say to you first before you tell her too much.

  The fortune-teller shook her head.

  “The bird is just a messenger, the eyes of someone else far away,” she said in her dusky voice.

  For a moment the only sound inside the dark tent was the whispering of the candle flames.

  When Ven could speak again, his voice was higher than it usually was.

  “Who—who is watching me?”

  Madame Sharra passed her hand over the sand one more time. The bird pattern broke into many tiny such patterns, then disappeared, but no new image emerged. The sand settled into formless swirls once more. She exhaled.

  “The sand’s power is at its end for you. If you wish to know more, you will have to ask the deck. That will require a gold crown.” Her brows drew together when she saw how white Ven’s face had become. “What do you fear?”

  * * *

  I was too upset to remember I shouldn’t be asking too many questions. For a long time I had thought that the interest the bird took in me was something special, something that helped keep me from harm. And now I was hearing that perhaps the albatross was nothing more than a spy for someone keeping track of me from far away.

  As disturbing as it felt to discover white circles on our backs, that feeling could not begin to compare to how nervous I was now.

  * * *