by B. K. Parent
When I had been back with the horses, I had noticed a stack of cut but un-split wood behind the glassworks. I wandered over that way and discovered a dozen or more small pieces that would do quite nicely for turning bowls and goblets. The wood was just the right dryness and did not have large cracks or splits. It would not be right to just take the wood, so I approached the back side of the glassworks to see if I could find someone in charge and ask if I might acquire the wood. Standing near the back of the glassworks was a man of medium age and giant proportions, wiping the sweat off his face with a grimy towel. I do not think I had ever seen a man as tall or huge as this man and so was taken by surprise by the softness of his voice.
“Now, just what are you doing back here lass? You lost?”
The meaning under his words clearly suggested he thought I did not belong here.
“No sir,” I answered. “I have a booth just the other side of the guildhall with Journeywoman Clarisse.” With that answer, his attitude took an abrupt change.
“Journeywoman Clarisse you say, she’s here?”
“Yes sir, in the guildhall at the moment.”
“Well, good. Now what can I help you with?” he asked.
“I was wondering if I might barter for some of the smaller pieces of wood over there. I noticed you have some nice alder, maple, and walnut which would be good for making bowls or goblets.”
“A woodworker are you?”
“Yes sir,” I said.
“And a friend of our Journeywoman Clarisse?”
“I’d like to say so.”
“That your hunting cat?”
The change of subject was so abrupt that it took me a moment to realize that Carz had silently drawn up beside me. Before I left the booth, I had attached the fair badge to his collar. Suddenly the big man started laughing and kept at it until tears ran down his face causing streaks in the dust and grime. He finally finished but was holding his sides as if they ached from his laughter.
“Oh, that’s rich,” he said. “A hunting cat with its very own fair badge. How did you wrangle that from that pompous, arrogant little twit at the gate?”
“Actually sir, Journeywoman Clarisse did it. He asked if there were others in our party and she answered yes, one male, medium build and silver haired. Said Carz here, who was out of sight lying at our feet, was security and jack-of-all-work. Just then the man in charge got distracted by a puppy chasing a goose and handed us a chit for three badges. I take it that animals don’t normally have badges?”
“Ah no, not the custom,” he answered as he wiped the last remaining tear from his eye. “I can just see Journeywoman Clarisse with a very straight face saying what you just told me. I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard. The wood is yours as payment for your tale. Would have just burnt it anyway. What’s your name, young woodworker?”
“Nissa, sir.” It was becoming easier to give that name rather than my own.
“Well, Nissa, you tell that Journeywoman to come see me when next you see her. Tell her Master Rollag requests her presence.”
“Will do, and thank you for the wood,” I told him as I turned away and headed to pick out and haul back to the booth the pieces I was interested in.
I set up my turning lathe and soon got lost in the rhythm of turning a piece of nice smelling maple, shaping a bowl. As shavings fell from my tools, it felt good to be working with the wood, and some of the tension I had felt all day eased away. I hoped Da might find me here, but worried that it might be too dangerous for him with the Regent’s agents scrutinizing folks as they entered the fair. I wished I knew why they were looking so hard for him. I was so lost in thought and the spinning of the wood on the lathe that it took a moment to realize Journeywoman Clarisse was standing in front of the counter softly clearing her throat, trying to get my attention.
“Didn’t want to startle you while you had a sharp tool in your hand. You at a point where you might want to head back to camp soon?” she asked.
“I can quit anytime, but I have a message for you. Master Rollag asked for you to stop by the glassworks.”
“Master Rollag is here? Oh, good. Do you mind? I really would like to go see him for a little bit,” Journeywoman Clarisse asked.
“Take your time,” I answered to her back, which was swiftly moving away from me. I wondered what would have happened if I had said no, I wanted to leave right away.
It was way past suppertime when we reach the campsite, and I was even more convinced that the extra travel time each day was worth the relative peace and quiet of this place at the end of the day. Mistress Jalcones had a hardy stew in the big iron pot hung over the fire and a plate of biscuits. She had told us if we shared supplies, she would be glad to have a simple meal waiting at the end of each day, for which I was grateful. None of us lingered very long over the meal for tomorrow would be a long day.
The next morning to my disappointment there was nothing in the Neebing room, though the two small goblets were gone. As I straightened up, I noticed the sun seemed to be especially bright coming in through the windows when it occurred to me that it the sun was not brighter, but the windows were cleaner. All of the travel dust and grime had been cleaned off, both inside and out. Now how could that be? I was sure I had locked the homewagon before we left, had I not?
Chapter Thirteen
Thorval Pedersen pulled deeper into the shadows in the alley and quietly slid behind a stack of crates. He was surprised the two men who had chased him could not find him by following the sound of his heart, which was surely going to pound itself right out of his chest any moment now. That had been a close one. He was too old for this game when he left the road several years ago and he surely had not gotten any younger. Nothing much had gone right since he had left his home abruptly, and this day was no exception. Everything had started to go so exceptionally wrong when he saw those three strangers climbing the stairs up from the dock back home.
He had not known the three specifically, but all of his instincts had screamed danger, and he had fled. He knew Arial was away for the day up in the hills on an errand for his mother-in-law and should be safe. The still house locked from the inside would protect Nana. He had barely made it into the tunnels undetected.
The trio could not have afforded to linger in such a small village and hope to remain undetected. Ones such as those worked in the shadows. Being noticed was not good for their health for theirs was a demanding master who showed one face to the world and quite another to those who failed or crossed him. Thorval had hoped, if he could get away, they would leave his family alone, dismissing them as unimportant. He had wanted to be able to get back before the ten days were up, but circumstances and bad luck had plagued him from the moment he had set sail.
He had not been able to outrace the storm. The wind and the high waves had been too much for his little skiff. While fighting to stay on tack, a freak change in the direction of the wind had whipped his sail around so fast it had torn it to shreds, leaving him at the mercy of the storm-tossed waves. It would have only been a matter of time before he had not been able to bail fast enough to keep the boat from sinking. The only small piece of good fortune had been when a slight lull in the storm had allowed him to both see and hear that he was dangerously close to the Dragon’s Teeth. He had taken precious seconds to strap a small waterproof bundle tightly to his chest before he had abandoned ship.
Tossed by the waves and threatened with being pulled under by the swift-moving current, he thought that only by a bit of left over Neebing luck had he made it to shore, and not in very good shape. He was sure he had cracked a rib or two and had left a great deal of knee and elbow skin lying on the beach he had literally been thrown onto. Had he been able to bring the boat to shore safely, he would have had ample supplies and been able to hide in one of the sea caves that dotted the shore, but he had lost everything except the b
undle he had tied on at the last minute. Unfortunately, that meant he needed to move sooner than he had expected, and by land, which had turned dangerous quite recently. After the first two near misses at being spotted or caught by the Regent’s agents, who were out in droves, he had traveled by night on very old, little remembered paths, some of which were now no more than deer trails.
He had not felt safe sneaking into any of the smaller villages, for he clearly would have stood out as a stranger. While huddled in a hayloft one day, he had overheard a farmer and his son talking, discussing the encounter they had had with a pair of the Regent’s agents who had given them a stern warning that they should immediately send word if they discovered the whereabouts of one Thorval Pedersen. Hinted at a reward.
He had finally made his way to a farmstead of an old acquaintance he hoped he could trust. Lying low on the hill overlooking the farm, hidden from view, he had carefully checked out the scene below him. Nothing stirred. There was no activity on the farm at all. No animals in the fields, which had not seen the touch of a plow in quite some time from the looks of it. No laundry hanging on the line, no chickens pecking in the yard, no dogs barking. The place had the air of abandonment.
Continuing to stand still in the dark alley, listening for pursuers, Thorval remembered back to waiting all through the day to see if there were any life on the farmstead, or any movement at all, but it had remained quiet. Once night had fallen, he had slipped guardedly down the hill, keeping low and to the shadows. It did not take long to confirm that no one lived at this farm any longer, and from the looks of it, the folk living here had left in a rush, or died suddenly. He hoped it had been the former. Fortunately, there was enough left behind for him to cobble together a travel pack of sorts. He had found a few blankets in a cedar chest that were only a little moth eaten and an old leather rucksack at the bottom of the tack box in the barn. He had grabbed a skillet, a dented cup, some silverware, and other useful items that had been left behind or overlooked in the kitchen cupboards. The real find had been the good knife that had been left on top of one of the hay bundles. Probably had been used to cut the twine and forgotten. It was a bit rusty but serviceable. Unfortunately, any food that might have been left behind was long gone.
Thorval had not wanted to send Arial on the road, but worried if he could not get back in time, the Regent’s agents might return and find some way to use her to get to him. He had felt she would be safer on the road disguised, and on the move, than at the cottage. Nana could and would take care of herself. They would severely underestimate her. Nana had her own reasons for disliking the Regent and his minions, and her own resources. He trusted she had maintained her usual calm and sent Arial off none the wiser. He also had to trust his daughter to be smart and careful. He hoped she had made it to Tverdal.
The last ten days of travel had been easier, for he had managed to make contact with one of the old group, a long hauler who amazingly still drove his same route. It had been pure luck to find him. He had provided Thorval with clothes, a worn but serviceable travel pack, and most of all, food. When they had neared a village, or had seen riders approach, the driver had hidden him in a secret compartment cleverly built into the wagon. A smuggler’s secret perhaps.
Thorval had learned a great deal on his ride with his old contact. Old Cedric Klingflug had been busy as regent these last few years, solidifying his power and eliminating those who would oppose him. There was great concern among many that the Princess might be in grave danger once she came of age. Regent Klingflug had kept her in the capitol and at court, on one pretext or another of late, so she had not made the traditional every other year tour of Sommerhjem. Some felt he had done this to keep her ignorant of his growing control and the general unrest of the folk she would come to rule. He had gradually removed many of her advisors who had been loyal to the old Queen and replaced them with those loyal to him. While Lady Celik remained, her influence at court had been severely undermined, and the information network she had set up compromised to some extent.
By the time Thorval had reached Tverdal, two days after the fair had begun, his appearance had changed somewhat. He had grown a beard, and with that and the great slouch hat he wore, he was not easily recognizable. He had boldly walked into town, hoping those looking for him would be watching the back ways harder than the front gate. He was dressed as a typical day laborer and had entered with a group of other day laborers coming back from helping at the fair. He had noticed that all of them had metal badges, which he overheard several of them talking about in tones of disgust. It had been easy to accidentally jostle one of them, distracting him while relieving him of his badge. He had hated to do that, for it would cause the man a hassle the next day, and he hoped not a loss of wages. He slipped a bit of coin in the man’s pocket in an amount he hoped would cover any loss. Thorval was glad once again that he had not lost his coin pouch when he had gone overboard.
Once he was through the gate, he had separated himself from the others and found a quiet side street. He quickly slipped the fair badge onto his belt and tried to orient himself. It had been some time since he had walked the streets of Tverdal. If he remembered rightly, Casper’s smithy was closer to the wall of the old town. He did not think it would be a good idea to go directly there. From the information he had gotten from his ride, there was a traitor among the old group, and he had been unsure how much information had been handed over to the Regent’s minions. Lady Celik had been clever in setting up her network of informants. Each one only knew a few others in the group and only knew a few of the information drop places. Thorval was one of the few who knew almost all of the folks involved and had information that would be very useful to Regent Klingflug should Thorval be captured. Now all he had to do was not get caught and make it to the capitol, but first he needed to try to contact either Casper the blacksmith or Mistress Fern.
Knowing that Casper the blacksmith would not be back to his home and shop until after sunset, Thorval had found a hedge, which was deep and thick enough to hide behind, growing close to a house about a block away from the smithy. He slipped between the branches and settled down to wait. Just as he was about to crawl out, he heard the sounds of a number of folks heading his way. Someone with an authoritative voice had told the others to spread out and directed several to take the back alley. The sounds of someone pounding on a door and demanding the door be opened carried on the still night air. This group was pounding on Casper’s door.
“He’s not here sir,” one man had shouted.
“Then we wait,” said the authoritative voice. “Spread out and don’t give yourselves away.”
All had gone quiet at this point. Late fairgoers walked by his hiding place but none were Casper. Because he was listening so hard he heard the faint sound of someone whistling and knew that off-key sound. Casper. Slipping quietly out of his hiding spot, he had casually walked down the lane in the direction of the whistler.
Thorval reached Casper and said, “My friend Haakens told me to come find you. You have some folks waiting for you at your shop who are perhaps not your friends. You may want to seek shelter somewhere else for a time. No time to chat, you must hurry.”
So as not to draw attention to themselves, Casper had flung his arm around Thorval’s shoulder as if greeting an old friend, and they had headed away from the smithy, separating quickly at the next crossroads. It would not do to have been found in each other’s company. Thorval sincerely hoped Casper had gotten to safety.
Thorval’s problems continued the next day when he went to Wayfarers Market. His survival instincts were in full force at this point, and he noticed a number of folks who were stationed in the market but did not look like they were there to pick up any goods or services. He had walked up to Mistress Fern’s shop. Mistress Fern was sitting outside stripping seed from some plant into a bowl on her lap, her apron spread wide to catch any she missed. Thorval suggested a friend of hers, Haakens, ha
d told him she might have some mountain lavender in stock.
Mistress Fern just shook her head and said, “You must get away and quickly. My shop is being watched. I can’t help you.”
Just then two men, both rough looking, standing across the market square, started heading towards him. Since he had not liked the looks of them when he had spotted them earlier, he had turned and swiftly headed the other way. They had followed in quick pursuit, which was why he was now hiding behind crates in a shadowy alley more than a little worried about his own situation, but even more worried about his daughter. Had he put her in more danger by sending her on the road? How could he find her, without entering the fair itself, to warn her about Casper’s and Mistress Fern’s places being watched?
Chapter Fourteen
The first day of the fair went fairly smoothly. Journeywoman Clarisse and I had left our campsite just as the first light of day began to show its rosy light above the hills. Carz had chosen to stay behind. The early morning dew was heavy and caught on the myriad of spider webs littering the grass alongside the road. There was a slight breeze and only a few clouds in the sky. Even at this early hour, the road leading into the fair was not empty.
“Looks like it is going to be a fine day,” Journeywoman Clarisse remarked. “Hopefully folks will have some coin in their pockets they will want to part with.”
“I could use a bit of coin myself for I’ll soon be in need of some very basic supplies, like a bag of oats and other items,” I replied.
Upon arriving at the gate, we were required to show our badges. Once inside, we walked quickly to our booth and began setting out our wares. Since we were both selling the boxes we had collaborated on, we had decided to split the profit if we should sell any. Once Journeywoman Clarisse had hung her sun catchers off the awning and hung her small stained glass items from a rack she had set up, I placed a number of puzzle boxes, goblets, and other wood items out on the counter along with a special rack of Nana’s herbs and liniments.
