"Daddy," he said, "I haven't been honest with you about a few things."
Mr. Ribbon looked up expectantly, took a sip of wine, and nodded.
"Ye mean 'bout what ye know 'bout yer mother."
"No. Other things. And it bothers me that I haven't talked to you about them."
"Son, I am as proud of ye as a father can be of any son. I can't say as I've had good reason to keep things from ye, so I can't say as I've set a very good example. I'll have to understand that maybe thar's some kinds of things ye feel ye need to keep from me. I guess that's the way of it with fathers an' sons, sometimes. I only hope ye know I'd do anythin' for ye, right er wrong. If what ye need is listenin', er if bein' in the dark 'bout things is what ye need of me—either way, I'm here for ye. An' if ye ever find yerself in any trouble, I want to help ye if ever I can."
"I know," Robby nodded. "But I'm torn. I don't want you to be in the dark, but I don't want to break faith with others who have asked me to remain silent about some things."
"Well, if bein' silent is the good an' right thing to do, then do it ye must, son. Ye must be the judge of that, yerself."
"That's just it. I think for now it is the right thing. I just wanted you to know that I've got a lot on my mind these days. It's just that I wonder, I wonder if maybe you could talk to Mother sometime. She knows some of what troubles me. Maybe she can explain better than I can. Anyway, I don't want you to think less of me if ever you find I've held back from you."
"Aw, Robby! Come here, son!" Mr. Ribbon put his arm out and took his boy into a great hug. "I think more an' more of ye ever' single day. I trust ye. Alls I ask is that ye come to me if ever ye need me. No matter what, I'll stand for ye."
Robby stifled a yawn, and Mr. Ribbon nodded.
"Now, off to bed with ye! I'll put these away."
Robby nodded and said good-night. Mr. Ribbon watched him go, swallowed the last of his wine, then carefully rinsed the goblets and dried them. As he put them away, he heard Mirabella slip out of the washroom and into their bedroom. Going into the hall, he hesitated at their bedroom door, then stepped across to wash his hands. Having done so, he was about to turn down the room lamp when he saw protruding from behind the tub a pile of clothes and towels. It was not like Mira to leave things in such a state. Then he saw a dark red liquid speck on the floor at his feet. Bending over, he touched it and held his finger close to the lamp. Going over to the pile near the bathtub, he crouched with the lamp, reached awkwardly around the tub, and tugged away Mirabella's blouse. It was wet from having been rinsed. Previously white, the back of it was now bright pink. Putting the lamp down, he pulled out the rest of the wet clothing and towels and carefully wrapped them into several clean ones from a shelf nearby and took them, along with the lamp, across the hall and into the bedroom.
Mirabella was in bed, the side table lamp unlit. He shoved the bundle under the bed, turned down the lamp he held until only the merest light glowed and put it on the table. He quietly undressed and gently slipped under the covers beside his wife. She was lying on her side, facing away. He carefully spooned her and put his hand on her waist.
"Yer havin' another bout with yer scars, ain't ye?" he asked.
"Yes. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It is I who am sorry, me love."
He knew there was nothing he could do for her, but he mourned, anyway, for her pain.
"Ever since that night. The night Robby went out yonder to Haven Hill."
"Yes."
"An' it's gettin' worse, ain't it?"
"Yes."
"Do ye know why?"
"No."
Mr. Ribbon heard the clear note of uncertainty in that single word. And another note, too, almost a whimper, one not of pain, but of fear. He settled his head onto his pillow, his hand still on Mirabella's waist. The two remained awake, their eyes open to the dark for a long while until sleep finally overtook them, carrying one into dreams and the other into nightmares.
Entr'acte
Lost
It was on a beautiful autumn day in the Year 798 of the Second Age that a family made its way through a thick and happy crowd: two small boys, their mother, and sitting atop the father's shoulders, a little girl of no more than six with flowing scarlet hair. The girl understood only that this was some great festive occasion, having something to do with the Queen. Regardless of the event, she was happy to be with her family, merrily riding her father's shoulders with her hands firmly around his brow so that from time to time he had to push them up from his eyes. Although she had seen them before, when they came to the edge of the small lake and she saw again the five tremendous waterfalls at the far side, she was thrilled. The falls poured down from a dizzying height into a loud hissing spray of mist shimmering with rainbows. Though several hundred yards away, the falls could still be heard over the hum and talk of the crowds who gathered at the water's edge. Suddenly the noise diminished, the falls thinned to mere wisps of white threads, then disappeared altogether. At this, the crowds hushed, too, in wonder and awe. From far above, horns blared out. All eyes turned to gaze upward at the top of the sheer cliff from where but a moment before the water had spewed forth. There, at the very top, was a wall running around the edge of the cliff where the trumpeters blew their ram's horns. At the center of this wall jutted out two bird-like wings of stone that held aloft a platform reaching out over the precipice. A tiny figure appeared on the platform.
"There she is, Danig!" cried the little girl's mother.
"Yes," said her father, bending so that he could see, his hands firmly gripping the ankles of his little girl. "Do you see her, Mira?"
"I think so. She is so tiny! I thought she would be taller."
Her father laughed and removed one hand for a moment. Then he held up a spyglass.
"Here. Remember how I showed you to use it!"
Mirabella took the spyglass and held it up quickly, turning the eyepiece and moving the glass up and down in small sweeps.
"Oh!"
There was the Queen of Vanara, in a long, feathered robe, her breastplate gleaming as brightly as her winged helmet against the blue sky. Mirabella's father tried to remain as still as possible so that his daughter had little problem keeping her eye on the Queen.
"Oh, father! She is so pretty!"
Another figure appeared next to the Queen, and she turned to him.
"Who's that?" asked one of the boys.
"That would be her brother, Prince Thurdun," said Mirabella's mother.
"He's a great warrior," said the other boy.
"I know that!"
Mirabella watched as the Queen took something from the Prince, and, holding it up over her head with both hands, she turned, stepping right up to the precipice to face the crowds below. The object she held seemed to be an arch of clear glass, and Mirabella could see what appeared to be tiny dots set within it. Suddenly the sun caught the objects and they flashed. Within each golden flash was an even brighter glint, blue, green, red, yellow, orange, purple, and white. The crowds around Mirabella erupted into cheers and applause.
"What does she hold up?" Mirabella asked loudly over the cheers, trying to keep the spyglass upon the Queen even though her father was being jostled by the press.
"Those are the Bloodcoins of the House of Fairlinden," answered her mother.
"Her grandfather received them from Aperion himself," said her father. "She shows them to her people only once every twenty-four years."
"It is a sign and a token of our heritage," said Mirabella's mother.
"Oh."
The trumpets continued to blare as the Queen turned, the ancient objects held high to her people, glinting like stars in the daytime. Indeed, someone nearby said loudly, "Duinnor may have its five stars, but we have our Seven!"
Mirabella wondered why the man said that, but was distracted when, suddenly, five jets of water burst from the wall below and to either side of the Queen's platform, shooting out and descending through rainbow-lit air.
> "And see?" her father said. "The Falls of Tiandari show the colors of the stones!"
With the resumption of the water's cascade, the cheers grew even louder than before. As the Queen disappeared, Mirabella lowered the spyglass, still watching the high platform thoughtfully. Her father turned to go.
"Come down for a time, Mira," her father said as he lifted her over his head and lowered her to the ground. "It's time for our feast!"
She handed the spyglass back to him, and he took her hand, following his wife and two boys back toward their carriage.
"Father, will she ever give them back to Aperion?" Mirabella asked, looking up at him.
He looked back down at her, clearly astonished at the question.
"Or are they hers to keep?" she asked.
Her mother glanced over her shoulder at her husband, smiling.
"That is not for me to say," said Mirabella's father. "And I doubt if anyone knows."
"Oh. Hm."
• • •
Three days later, as she was playing with a fawn in a garden wood nearby to their home, Mirabella was Scathed. During the following days, scars formed on her back, and her small body was racked with pain, her mind was tortured in a way that a little girl's mind should never be, by memories of blood and strife, and by fears of abandonment. She deliriously clawed her way to her bedroom window to leap out, to fly away into the sky, up beyond care and pain, away from confusion and sorrow. Her father and mother kept her from the window, of course, though she screamed in anger and disappointment while she tried to escape their clutches. She fought her father viciously at first, squirming and kicking and biting. But he held her firmly, though as gently as he could, putting his face against hers, their tears mingling.
After four days, she fell silent. Although Mirabella was now calm, her mother knew, and her father suspected, that the worst of it was only just beginning.
When the outward signs of her torture ended, and the scars of her Scathing were made permanent upon her back and shoulders, the subtle inward torture began. She was changed. As she matured into womanhood, she remembered much, more than her life contained, and her eyes would see more sorrow and strife than she had seen within any of her girlish nightmares. From time to time, she would put her memory upon that day, before she was Scathed, before the troubles of her life began, that bright blue day and those flashing jewels in the sky. Whenever Mirabella relived that day in reflection, and when she remembered the questions she had asked her father, she became uneasy. Even before she learned what those marvelous objects really were, she knew the answer to one of her questions. And when she learned that there were forty-two other objects like the seven that the Queen had held up, she knew the answer to the other. The seven belonging to the Queen were not hers to keep. But she would not give them back, even if she desired to do so, which she most definitely did not. So, like the Bloodcoins of the Queen, her people remained upon the earth, like living symbols of what once was. And her people, the Elifaen, were also like the other objects, the ones the Queen did not possess. Forever lost.
Part II
Chapter 12
Sheila's Inheritance
Day 30
215 Days Remaining
Mirabella rose even earlier than usual, hours before sunrise, and made breakfast. Since the aroma of coffee and bacon did not serve to rouse anyone—all else in the house continued to sleep soundly—she covered the dishes to keep everything warm, took a cup of coffee into the sitting room, and sat. She had intended to take up her knitting for a time, but instead found herself staring at the strongbox across the room and pondering the contents of the ceramic jar locked within it. Almost an hour later, when she heard her husband at last stirring, she shook herself and went to the kitchen to reheat breakfast.
Finally, Mr. Ribbon was able to stay at home for the morning, sleeping a little later than usual. As soon as he awoke, he fixed his mind on taking care of Sheila's business and to put it off no longer. Coming into breakfast, he told his wife of his plans, thinking that he would have to be at the Common House by noon, and that he would like to see Sheila as soon as she was back from a few early errands. Preferring to leave Robby with the store, he finished breakfast, took his coffee to the sitting room, and sat at his desk there, looking over various papers until Sheila arrived.
"Mira says you wanted to see me?" she said from the doorway.
"Oh yes, good mornin'!" Mr. Ribbon beamed. "I figured I'd better take care of yer business this mornin', 'fore too much time goes by an' ye thinks I'm forgetful er lazy."
Sheila chuckled at the idea of Mr. Ribbon ever having either characteristic.
"If you wish. I know you have been very busy."
"Let me just grab a few things, clear off some space, an' so forth," he said, pushing the papers aside. Standing up, he took from a nearby shelf a couple of ledger books, so common around this household, and two rolled-up parchments.
"Why don't ye sit next to me right here," he said, pulling up another chair for her.
She sat beside him facing the desk and put her hands in her lap attentively.
"Well," he began, "as ye know, when yer uncle Steggan died, nobody could find ye. In keepin' with the situation, an' accordin' to law, certain things needed doin', an' this is how they whar done. His remains, by the way, are buried in a field nearby to the property, an' his grave properly marked.
"First, the sheriff posted a watchman to look after yer uncle's place, livin' in a little tent in the yard (the house bein' unfit until it could be cleaned an' aired out, mind ye). An inventory of the house, barns, an' lands was taken by me an' the late mayor, along with witnessin' by Sheriff Fivelpont an' Mr. Bordy, a councilman. The next day, the sheriff posted a notice that if the property went unclaimed by rightful kin, it would be auctioned off. Meanwhile, any person who had claims on yer uncle had to show proof an' register at the Common House. They had a week an' a fortnight to do so. After that, all the claims were tallied up. The way it works is like this:
"After the auction, the county's expense is first taken. Then, if the amount left over is less than the claims, each would get a portion accordin' to the proportion of thar claim amongst all others. If the amount left over after county expense is more than would cover the claims, then all claims are to be paid out an' the excess put into trusteeship for one year. If no rightful kin makes claim within a year an' a day, the amount an' seven-tenths of any growth or earnings tharof go to the common treasury.
"Now, thar warn't much of worth 'cept the land itself an' the house. The acres got broken into parcels accordin' to what lay planted er built on 'em. This right here is the inventory: seven acres fallow, four acres corn, half acre beans (eaten by worms), half acre turnips, six acres barley (much stunted), fourteen acres wood, an' so on an' so forth. The contents of the house an' barn to be sold as individual bits, if fit for sellin' (I'm afraid all of the clothes an' linens had to be burnt, an' thar warn't much in the way of good tools er the like).
"Arkstan's tavern, the Rivertree, had the biggest claim of all (yer uncle bein' a powerful drunkard, as all know), an' me store had the second biggest, then the blacksmith an' sundry others. Now I won't go into all the biddin' 'cept to say that all were allowed to bid who could show coin er specie, includin' claims-people. I stood coin for them what wanted to bid but had naught 'cept trade goods to offer. So the land lots whar done first an', as luck would have it, several of the neighborin' farmers had in mind to increase thar acres an' so the bids went high against each other an' the land went for higher than was expected. Next went the sundries, an' finally the house lot, all of which didn't bring much. Still, all expenses an' debts got covered an' a modest amount was put in trust. Since I applied for an' was named trustee, it falls upon me to be tellin' ye all these things an' explainin' all this."
"I see," said Sheila, nodding as Mr. Ribbon pulled on his spectacles and glanced over them at her.
"Now," he continued, opening a ledger book and running his finger down some lines
of orderly writing with amounts and sums at the end of each of the lines. "I managed to buy the house lot, which included the barn an' yards, along with many of the implements. 'Sides that, as trustee, I hold the amount equal to twenty-weight of silver, now increased by my business to twenty-two-weight," Mr. Ribbon turned the ledger book so that Sheila could more easily see, "gained by usin' the amount to buy stock an' resellin' as store goods. Here's the paper on the house," he said pulling over a parchment document, duly signed an' sealed by the Mayor. "An' here's the Trustee Charter."
It was likewise sealed and signed. Sheila looked at the papers and nodded.
"Yes," she said looking back at Mr. Ribbon. There was an awkward silence, and Sheila did not know quite what Mr. Ribbon was getting at.
"Thar yers now," he said gently. "All's we have to do is have the Trusteeship dissolved an', as I'm actin' Mayor now, I can do that an' have it recorded at the Common House. An' I've got a deed all made up for the house right here."
He pulled down another parchment and unrolled it to show her his signature, along with witnesses, under a statement assigning all rights to the property to one Sheila Pradkin of Barley for so long as she may live, and to any of her heirs as she may assign, et cetera, et cetera, and sealed with both the county clerk's seal and the seal of the Mayor of Passdale. As she looked it over, Mr. Ribbon reached to one side and drew out nine bags and counted out one hundred and seventy-six pieces of silver, each one-eighth weight. Sheila stared at the stacks in front of her. Twenty-two weight of silver was not much, yet it was more than Sheila Pradkin had ever seen, much less imagined ever having. In fact, she never had any prospect of owning anything, and had never thought twice about it.
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