What was even more interesting, and which Sistina found oddly suspiciously timed, was when they reached the campsite that evening they found themselves next to a large clearing that had one of the largest, most fanciful trade fairs that Sistina had ever imagined.
A wizened, dwarf-like redcap was selling daggers and other blades in a stall, while a centaur slowly drained blood from his wrist into a basin in front of the redcap. Nearby, a group of pale-skinned, dark-eyed men and women were sitting cross-legged on a blanket scattered with a series of pearls, beautiful clamshells, coral-encrusted statues, and even a pearl seemingly made entirely of water that was the size of a man’s eye. A group of arachnae were weaving cloth from their silk, while one of their number cut and fit the clothing to the figure of a nymph, and yet another arachne was singing softly as she trapped sunlight itself into her cloth, weaving a golden fabric that shone with the light of the sun. A golden dragon a dozen feet in length was curled up next to a variety of weapons and armor, each glittering with magical runes, while a half dozen dragon-like drakelings played tag in the air above it, each no more than a foot long.
At the center of the clearing was a circle of five trees, where dryads could be seen crafting beautiful instruments and bows of gleaming wood, the wood reshaping in their hands seemingly effortlessly. Sistina even saw a strange, almost transparent man who had a dozen glass orbs, each looking as though they were filled with fog or mist, sitting on the cushions in front of him. There were other vendors as well, but those were the most exotic of them, and many of the remainder served food or other more mundane wares.
Staring at the sight for a long moment, Sistina looked over as Ryvan asked, “Vanessa, what is that?”
“That would be the Trade Moot. It drifts through the Eternal Wood from month to month, so you are quite fortunate to encounter it,” Vanessa replied, smiling as she nodded to Alain. “Violence is forbidden at the Trade Moot, and remember what I said about what fey value. The dragon is a different story, of course, but they’re quite predictable. Many of the things you can find here are utterly priceless in the outside world, and I’ve heard of more than one merchant from your kingdom spending decades trying to find the moot.”
“Let’s set up the camp first, Ryvan,” Bevall quickly spoke before Ryvan could take more than a step toward the fair.
“But . . . oh, fine.” The young noble almost pouted, but came back to help get the camp set up despite his longing gaze toward the fair.
Never before had the four managed to set up their camp so quickly, but by the time they did so, their guards had already disappeared among the dozens of tents and other trade stalls. Bevall and Ryvan finished slightly before Sistina, while Uvara waited for her patiently. Shouldering a small bag, Sistina smiled at the other noblewoman, telling her. “You didn’t have to wait for me, you know.”
“I don’t want to go among the stalls alone,” Uvara spoke softly, glancing at the strange market nervously as she added. “You know a lot about the fey, too.”
“I wouldn’t say that I know a lot about the fey. Certainly, I did my research somewhat beforehand, but there’s only so much good that does,” Sistina replied with a shake of her head. “I didn’t know anything about this trade moot. But I’d be happy to go through the market with you.”
“Thank you.” Uvara spoke softly, bowing her head slightly in reply.
Sistina was going to say something, but instead shook her head and smiled, leading the way among the stalls. While the clothing that the arachnae were making was beautiful, the spider-women made her uncomfortable enough that she kept her distance from them. Bevall was looking at the weapons the redcap had for sale, while Ryvan was next door at a pastry shop. The young lordling had a surprisingly nice voice, Sistina realized as he sang to the tiny pixie owner. The market was alive with the sound of music and voices, and she smiled, shaking her head as she continued onward.
“Excuse me, young miss. May I ask if you’re interested in any of my wares for that pendant of yours?” A deep voice interrupted Sistina, and she blinked in surprise as she looked over to see the large, slit golden eyes of the dragon focused on her. Or more accurately, on her pendant, as he continued. “That is a very nice ruby you have there.”
“My thanks for your interest, lord dragon, but I’m afraid my pendant isn’t for trade,” Sistina replied, one of her hands reaching up to clasp around the pendant while a faint hint of panic flickered through her at the thought of losing it. She continued in a level voice. “It is the first thing I purchased with money I earned for myself, so it’s a rather important memento to me.”
“Drat. I rarely see such a perfectly cut ruby of such clarity,” the dragon sighed, raising its head and shifting slightly. “If you change your mind, please come by again. I dearly love precious jewels.”
“I will definitely keep it in mind,” Sistina promised, nodding politely to him before moving away quickly. There was little chance of her forgetting, and there was no way she intended to sell or trade her pendant!
“Where did you get the pendant?” Uvara interrupted Sistina’s thoughts, almost making her jump.
“What? Oh, right. Actually, I got it in Armon,” Sistina replied softly.
“Armon? That’s far away,” her companion murmured thoughtfully, seeming curious, so Sistina decided to sate her curiosity.
“Yes, it is. I led a trade mission there when I was twenty-three,” Sistina explained, smiling at Uvara. “They have an odd tradition in Armon. When a new king is crowned, they burn all the furniture of the old king in order to eliminate any bad karma that may be imbued into it, and to grant the king a fresh start. Personally, I think it was an attempt years ago to increase the business of the carpenters of the city, but who knows for certain? In any case, Everium’s furniture sells for a great deal in Armon, and I knew a new king was going to be crowned soon, so I took a large caravan of furniture to sell. My father thought it was a fool’s errand until I showed him the research, and he promised me half of the profit if it was successful. I spent most of my share on my pendant, and it’s been my lucky charm ever since.”
“I see. I’m going to speak with the dryads,” Uvara paused, nodding at the woodworkers nearby. “They have some very nice bows.”
“Go ahead. I’ll be right over there,” Sistina replied, nodding to the semi-transparent man with the orbs.
The two split up, and Sistina approached the man. He seemed to be garbed in flowing clothing and a turban, and she couldn’t make out anything of his face save for pitch black eyes. Glancing at the orbs, she asked. “May I ask what these are, sir?”
“These are dreams, young lady.” The man’s voice was oddly resonant, echoing in her mind and prompting a shiver. “Pure, unshaped dreams, before becoming good or bad, pleasant or a nightmare. With them, one may grant themselves a perfect dream, or an enemy their worst nightmare. Some magi may even be able to use them to forge magical items of great power.”
“I . . . I see. That isn’t what I was expecting, to be perfectly honest,” Sistina confessed, shocked by the idea as she looked closer at the orbs. “I thought they might be scrying orbs, or perhaps a bank of fog trapped in a crystal.”
The man laughed softly, his voice deep in his amusement. After a moment, his laughter ceased and he replied kindly. “I do understand, young lady. These are true rarities, something that few others can capture, while what you speak of are commonplace. Are you interested in one?”
“I’m afraid not. I was mostly curious, and I would rather make my dreams a reality than be lost in them,” Sistina told him, bowing her head as she added, “I apologize for taking your time.”
“Not at all, young lady. Though I believe the one who needs more help making her dreams become reality is your companion,” the vendor replied, nodding past Sistina and causing her to turn her head. She saw Uvara staring longingly at a bow sitting in front of one of the dryads.
“I see that she does. Thank you for your time, sir,” Sistina murmured, and stepp
ed away to approach her fellow noblewoman, studying the bow.
Sistina wasn’t terribly skilled with a bow, but archery was important enough to Everium as a whole that she knew a fair amount about them. Some nobles judged others on whether they could tell a good bow from a bad one, and thus Sistina had learned to judge them herself. She wasn’t the best, but even she could see that this bow was a breathtaking work of art. Multiple layers of wood had been perfectly fused into a single whole to make the bow as perfect as it could be, and every inch was covered in runic prayers to Krainos, the god of the hunt and the wilds. Sistina doubted that she was strong enough to draw the bow, but it was breathtaking either way.
“That is a lovely bow. I take it that you want it, Uvara?” Sistina asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, but there’s no way that I can afford something like that,” Uvara murmured, yearning in her voice. “It’s beautiful.”
Making a sudden, snap decision, Sistina reached into her bag and searched for the item she knew was inside. She had been half tempted to make it a gift to the Empress, but this wasn’t art and a dryad would be far more likely to appreciate it than most fey. She pulled out a pale white acorn, cold to the touch, and the moment it appeared, the dryad’s leaf-green eyes snapped to it, stopping her shaping of a lyre in mid-stroke.
“A skycrown acorn, still viable,” Sistina said simply, offering it to the dryad. A skycrown tree was a rare form of oak that grew solely in the far north, and was said to have beautiful flowers in the spring. It was also said that dryads could grow any form of tree, so she thought the woman would appreciate it. Nodding toward the bow, Sistina asked. “A trade for the bow?”
“Done.” The dryad didn’t even stop to consider, picking up the bow and offering it to Sistina. As she accepted it, the dryad all but snatched the acorn from her hand, a huge smile crossing the dark-skinned woman’s face. “Thank you. This tree will birth a lovely daughter.”
“You are most welcome. Your work is beautiful,” Sistina replied softly, bowing her head before turning to Uvara and offering the bow to the stunned young woman, adding with a grin, “A gift, Uvara. I expect you to put it to good use.”
“But . . . I can’t accept this . . .” Uvara protested softly, her eyes huge as she stared at the bow.
“I insist,” Sistina said firmly, pressing the bow into Uvara’s hands and smiling. “You wanted it, Uvara, and I was able to get it for you. Just accept it.”
“As . . . as you wish.” Uvara replied, in a daze as she accepted the bow, staring at it for a long, long moment.
“Good. Now, let’s find some dinner. I rarely thought I might have to literally sing for my supper, but it seems that’s what one should do in these parts,” Sistina mused, and headed off to find a good stall at which to eat.
“Yes,” Uvara agreed, shaking off her shock and quickly following Sistina. It took several minutes before they found a stall selling a fragrant vegetable stew, and Sistina quickly demonstrated her own imperfect grasp of the fine art of singing, much to the satyr’s amusement.
The stew was delicious, though, so it was well worth the embarrassment.
Chapter 6
“Did anyone else find anything interesting they could afford?” Ryvan asked, playing idly with the beautiful folding fan he’d shown up with. They were sitting around the fire after visiting the fair, and the sky was growing dark at last. “I saw Uvara’s bow, but nothing else.”
“I really wanted one of those daggers, but I wasn’t willing to bleed for them,” Bevall replied, sighing and shaking his head. “And I didn’t have nearly enough gold to pay the dragon for any of his weapons.”
“I traded a painting for the orb of primal water the selkies had,” Sistina offered, smiling slightly as she explained. “I heard that it could be used to bless the water of a region to flow purer and more cleanly for generations, so it’s well worth the investment to me.”
“Hmm . . . I’m not certain whom got the better part of that trade,” Vanessa mused, smiling at Alain as she continued. “They’ll probably use it to trade for a net from one of the arachnae. No one makes finer nets than they do, and they dearly love paintings.”
“Huh. An odd love for spider-ladies if you ask me,” Alain replied, shivering slightly. “They make me somewhat nervous.”
Sistina shivered herself, admitting softly. “I have to agree. While I know that they’re rarely hostile, I’ve never liked spiders.”
“That’s because you mortals are overly obsessed with appearances. I’ve seen the ugliest troll you could imagine carve a statue of astounding beauty,” Vanessa replied simply, shrugging as she added, “I’ve also seen a woman of great beauty destroy a work of art because it was better than her own. Beauty and ugliness are in the eyes of the beholder, and the beauty of a spirit can outshine the most ugly exterior. Have none of you met people whose outward appearance was lovely, but whom were rotten at their core?”
No one else spoke initially, but to Sistina’s surprise, it was Uvara who spoke first, her voice soft. “Yes. My father’s aunt. She’s pretty, but when people aren’t around, she spouts venom in the ears of others, turning those around her against one another to maintain her own petty power.”
“As have I. I’ve met several, in fact,” Sistina spoke reluctantly, shrugging. “Mostly merchants, but there have been a number of nobles, and some of the people that I met in Armon. I don’t like to think about it, but they definitely exist.”
“Other examples are probably some of the dragon-kin, especially when one of the draconic rulers of Rekan visit in human form. They’re always physically perfect, but their eyes . . .” Bevall’s voice trailed off, and he visibly shivered, shaking his head as he continued. “They don’t think anyone or anything are their equals. I fear war with them may be inevitable.”
Ryvan was the only one of their company who hadn’t spoken yet, so Sistina looked at him, only to be surprised. The young man had ceased playing with his fan, and his eyes were serious as he stared at Vanessa with an intensity that shocked Sistina. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but had a serious note that belied his normal almost petulant nature. “Who are you really, Vanessa?”
“Whatever are you talking about?” Vanessa asked curiously, tilting her head slightly to the side.
“This entire trip has been strange. At first, we were left entirely alone. Only after we’d gotten used to having to fend for ourselves each night did we reach the lake, and we encountered your Queen’s court,” Ryvan explained softly, frowning as he continued. “We barely got out and you joined us, making things easier and starting to introduce us to the fey along our route. Only after we asked about how you paid them did we reach the Trade Moot, and you just neatly segued the conversation to individuals that some of us found uncomfortable, almost as if you were trying to be able to tell us what you did. I may not have the knowledge that Sistina does, the skill at hunting of Uvara, or the skill at arms of Bevall, but I’ve lived my entire life in Everium’s Court. I can tell when someone is manipulating the conversation. So why? Who are you, and what’s really going on?”
Sistina’s jaw almost dropped open at the explanation, stunned to hear such a calm analysis out of Ryvan, of all people. She’d mostly considered him a spoiled brat, but some of what he said made sense. She’d have to consider it to decide how much sense, but it sounded plausible. At that moment, Vanessa began to laugh, her voice like a burbling creek.
“Well done, Ryvan!” The fey congratulated him, smiling broadly. “I had wondered if any of you would notice the sequence of events. However, I myself am exactly as I appear, this I give my word on. If I hadn’t gained an interest in Alain, there was a friendly woodwalker who was going to meet you mid-day after our encounter in Rainbow Waters.”
“What? He’s right?” Bevall asked, looking utterly stunned. “What’s going on, then?”
“Well, considering everything . . . tell me, Sistina, how much information have you found on the tradition of your pilgrimage to the Eterna
l Court?” Vanessa asked instead, turning to Sistina expectantly, causing everyone to look at her.
“Not much,” Sistina admitted after a moment, frowning. “I know that it began some seven hundred years ago, after King Ysin signed the treaty with the Eternal Empress. Most of the youth of the high nobles were expected to make a pilgrimage to the Eternal Court between their second and third decade. Generally when in their thirties, like we are. Other than that, I just know that it’s common.”
“Correct. And any further information has been rather deliberately kept from being written,” Vanessa nodded approvingly, settling back. “To be perfectly frank, the entire journey is a test for all of you, to allow those of us living in the Eternal Wood to gain your measure. With humans it would be useless, but elves live long enough that we will be dealing with each of you for up to the better part of a millennium.”
Sistina took a moment to look at Alain, who actually didn’t seem surprised. That made her rather suspicious. Had her father warned him? It seemed likely, which rather annoyed her.
“What kind of test?” Bevall asked, his hands clenched so tight that his knuckles were white, and he seemed to be suppressing anger. “Why do all of this?”
“It’s a test of your character. How do you treat the campsites when there is no one around but yourselves? How do you react when exposed to enchantments that lower your inhibitions? How do you react when you realize you’ve been enchanted? How strong are your minds? Do you deal fairly with the fey, or do you let greed get the best of you? All of these are important questions, and ones that need to be answered,” Vanessa explained seriously. “Then there is the question of how you react to others. Not only a test, this entire journey is also a series of lessons for you. Of course, if none of you had seen through the veneer, you never would have been told by us. Your parents would have done so on your return.”
Marin's Codex Page 36
