I glanced at Chance. “Another Illusionist?”
Chance shook his head, his face serious.
My mouth dropped open.
Chance threw his head back and laughed.
“Ohhh you!” I pushed him playfully, grinning, secretly relieved.
I glanced back at the man and the ghost coming out of the urn as we walked past, and I swear he winked at me.
Something tells me this world is going to keep me on my toes.
We kept walking and looking at everything.
A few paces farther on, we encountered a grey-haired witch in a shop with a window entirely covered in leaves, where dozens of potion bottles were displayed, all with different colored liquids within. She called out to us, beckoning us to come and try her wares, then picked up a vial, seemingly at random, and drank the contents, and her hair changed from long grey and white, to a short cut in a brilliant leaf green color. She blinked her eyes and laughed at us, and we saw her eyes had also changed, from dull blue to piercing and endless black pools that looked like huge pearls.
“That’s amazing!” I said.
“It is, but it only lasts an hour, if that,” said Chance. “Your own hair is rarer and more special than anything she can enchant.
I blushed.
Next to the witch’s shop was a large ring of stone that enclosed a deep pool of water in the ground, surrounded by seaweed and smooth stones gathered from the sea. Inside the pool was a large boulder and sitting on this boulder was a siren. Her hair was wet and the color of the seaweed, greenish-black. Her skin was tinted green, and her piercing eyes followed us as she sat there. The man calling out to me from the side of the pool implored me to throw coins in the water to free the siren, so she could return to her people. At one point, she opened her mouth to sing a few notes, and a shiver ran down my spine at the sound.
“We won’t waste a coin on this. It’s all an act,” Chance whispered.
“I don’t have any coins,” I mumbled.
There was a store selling herbs and tinctures and mushrooms and balms and every type of dried plant you could ever want. It smelled wonderful and enticing, but Chance pulled me away from that as well. I vowed to come back to the shop sometime and investigate what they had to offer.
Then, there was a witch doctor with shrunken heads in his shop window. His hair was gathered in a topknot, and a bone pierced his septum. His dark brown skin was tattooed with dots and spiral patterns everywhere. He smiled as we passed, and we could see his teeth had been filed to points. He beckoned us to come closer, and I saw each of the shrunken heads he was selling had a third eye in the middle of its foreheads, to foretell the future.
“Too weird,” I said.
“Agreed,” said Chance. “That guy always gives me the creeps.”
We hurried past.
We saw an astrologer whose shop was covered in depictions of the stars and constellations, who promised us she knew of a massive rock that would plummet from the sky and blast through to the ground, wreaking massive destruction. She assured us she had been sent by the king’s top magician to the fae marketplace to warn the people, who were urged to take cover before the next full moon.
I glanced at Chance, who rolled his eyes and whispered, “The king does not employ any magicians.” He shook his head, beckoning me onward.
A dozen more shops sold every type of antique and collectible. Dealers held out objects and called out to shoppers, enticing them to approach. One shop window displayed taxidermied pigs, deer, cows, and goats, and even a huge taxidermied sasquatch that I stared at for a long while before Chance murmured in my ear that we had to move on.
“Was that real?” I asked in a low tone.
Chance glanced back. “You mean the sasquatch?”
I nodded.
He shrugged, then grinned.
I chuckled.
We saw a large shop whose window was devoted to the sale of musical instruments. Inside, several shop musicians were playing. They played in unison, and the result was highly pleasing to the ear. Harps played alongside lyres, and flutes played alongside small drums, all serenading us with music.
“That’s where I got my first flute,” said Chance. “When I was eleven. Wellllll, my first serious flute. I don’t count the toy flutes I had as a child.
I turned to him. “You play the flute?”
He nodded. “Maybe I’ll show you some time.” He smiled.
Chapter Eight
School Supplies
Chance led us to a corner shop with school uniforms. We entered, and a lady came toward me with pins sticking out of her mouth, held by her lips. She beckoned me forward to the rear of the shop.
Chance pointed to the uniform, and she nodded. Then I had to stand on a dais wearing the white blouse and skirt while the seamstress hemmed the skirt to reach to my knees.
The skirt was a deep blue purple, with pink lines, making a tartan.
“It’s the tartan of the Academy,” Chance said, smiling.
It was beautiful.
There were special socks to buy, and several pairs of shoes.
“The shoes are regulation, too,” said Chance. “Every day you are at the school, you must wear the same uniform. This is why we are purchasing so many sets.”
I could not believe how much he was ordering. All of it hemmed and adjusted just to fit me.
I had never in my life seen so many clothes, and I had only ever owned three shirts and two pairs of trousers, all used and worn and fished out of a dumpster.
I looked down at my worn-out, too-small shoes.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be getting three new pairs of leather school shoes,” Chance said.
We moved on to the chemistry shop. Chance indicated the letter I had received. “It says what you need on that, read it to me.”
“Let’s see,” I said, concentrating. “One cauldron, one set of spell books, two sets of varying potion bottles ...,” and we were off buying chemistry supplies.
After a while, I noticed we didn’t bring anything with us.
“They’ll be delivered to the school by tomorrow morning,” said Chance. “See? This is why we’ve brought one of the uniforms with us.” He indicated the paper-covered clothes hanging from the wooden hanger over his shoulder.
“There’s so much to buy. I had no idea,” I said, my mouth open.
“It’s mostly because it’s your first year,” said Chance. “The second-year supply list is shorter.”
“Hmmm ...”
“Okay, what’s next?”
I studied the letter. “Books.”
“Ah, yes. My favorite shop.” He eagerly led me to the other side of the plaza, opposite the chemist.
The old bookshop was stone and old wood, and the bell over the door tinkled as we passed through.
“Wow,” I whispered.
The bookshop was covered in old wood paneling, which stretched from floor to ceiling. Bookshelves reached high on every wall. A thick maroon carpet cushioned my footsteps as we walked in.
Rare, old books were on display behind glass.
“This is one of my favorites,” Chance whispered, as he stared at a small hardback book with a blue-and-gold cover, sitting on a velvet cushion in a glass case.
“ ‘The Book of Hallow ... Halloween’ hmmm,” I read slowly. “By Ruth E. Kelley.” The cover art depicted a big yellow setting sun next to some bushes and a tree. Six bats flew over the moon, silhouetted against the blue twilight sky.
Chance led me to the back, where a man stood at a counter.
I handed him my letter, which he took and peered at through square eyeglass lenses.
“Ah yes, Titania Academy,” he said. He glanced at me over the rims of his glasses. “First year?”
I nodded.
“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” he said, smiling. “Well, I’ve got the set here, let me just check them.”
He turned to rummage in the back room, through a blue curtain.
Chance turned to m
e. “We’ll have all the books shipped to the school except one.”
“Which one?” I asked.
“The Book of Halloween.”
I turned to look back at the glass covered case. “The one you just showed me?”
Chance nodded.
“But, I thought you said you wanted that one.”
“I already have a copy. It was given to me by the queen herself,” he said proudly.
“By the queen herself?”
“Yes. It was in reward for completing a very special task last year.”
“Last year was your first year?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did all the first-year students perform this task?” I asked.
“Oh, no.” Chance shook his head. “I was the only one she asked. She asked me because I was the best for the job, and her chosen champion. The globe I retrieved for her had been lost for ages. I brought it back for her and lived to tell the tale.” He rocked back on his heels, pleased with himself.
I blinked my eyes. There was so much to absorb. And Chance completing a task that had seemed dangerous when he told it.
I looked at my toes. I didn’t think I would be strong enough or good enough for any special tasks the queen might ask me to do.
The shopkeeper returned and set a stack of books on the counter. “There we are, all of them but one.” He moved out from behind the counter, lifting his keys from his waistcoat.
We watched as he went to the glass-enclosed book Chance had indicated.
Before he lifted the book from the black velvet, he donned white cloth gloves, snapping them onto his fingers snugly.
Then he carefully picked up the little book and brought it to the counter.
“I trust you’ve told her how special this book is?” He looked over his spectacles at both of us.
“I have,” Chance said, a twinge of indignation in his voice at the very thought of him not fulfilling his duty to keep this sacred trust.
The shopkeeper nodded in satisfaction and carefully slipped The Book of Halloween, by Ruth E. Kelley, into a small, soft cloth bag, then folded the edges over, and brought out an expanse of brown wrapping paper, set the book on it, and wrapped it into a neat brown paper parcel.
“I’ll have these other delivered to the school this evening, but I expect you’ll want to carry this one yourself.”
He handed me the brown paper-wrapped book.
I took it carefully and began to slip it into my bag.
“No, don’t put it in there,” said Chance. “Put it on your person.”
“On my person?” I asked.
“Put it under your shirt, in the waistband of your trousers,” said Chance. “Do you have pockets?”
“I don’t think they’re big enough,” I said, feeling around the side pockets of my pants.
“Waistband it is, then. And you’ll be happy to find the school uniform skirts have large pockets. Big enough for that book. In fact, I think the pockets were designed especially for that book to fit.”
The shopkeeper nodded.
Wow, I can’t wait to put on my school uniform.
I carefully stuck the small paper parcel in the waistband of my pants, then pulled my shirt down over it.
I turned to Chance. “How do I look?”
“It’s hidden.” Chance nodded in approval.
He turned to the shopkeeper. “This will go on the school account, Barnsby.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll mark it down.”
We nodded and left the store.
It felt a little funny walking around with a small paper-wrapped book down my trousers. I felt like I was hiding a treasure, smuggling it to safety. I told Chance as much when we stopped for an early lunch.
“You are,” he said. “That book is extremely valuable. There’s only a handful of them left in the world. Most were destroyed by one means or another.”
I sat straighter, and patted the hard rectangle in my waistband.
We ate sandwiches. I had roast beef. They were delicious.
“I’ve never eaten until I was full before,” I said.
“You actually haven’t eaten all that much,” said Chance. “I expect we’ll have to fatten you up a bit, once we get to the Academy.”
I grinned. “I look forward to that.”
By the time the sun set, we were exhausted. We’d been to eleven different shops and had spent the whole day there. We’d walked a thousand miles, or so it seemed to my feet.
“Okay, we’ll catch the first flight in the morning to the Academy. For tonight, let’s get a room in the old inn here,” he indicated a large inn next to an ice cream shop.
The sign swinging from the metal hook above the door read, “The Green Dragon Tavern and Inn.”
Sounds interesting.
We went in. It was a busy establishment, filled with a mixture of students and adults. Chance had informed me that anyone under the age of twenty-one attended school, and then was apprenticed for a period of four years to the trade that best suited their abilities.
We sat at a rectangular wooden table in the back that was thick and rough, but worn.
“This inn has been here for nearly four hundred years,” Chance said. “It was built at a crossroads, and the humans used it for about a hundred and fifty years, give or take a decade. Then the marketplace was enshrouded by the Fae counsel, and it became ours. The owners were fae, you see, so they were very happy when the counsel decided to make this neighborhood into our marketplace.” He stood up. “I’m going to get us some dinner. You stay here, okay?”
I nodded.
I watched him go to the front counter and talk with the waitress.
Probably ordering food.
The smells coming out of the kitchen on the side were so good my stomach started rumbling. I felt odd because on a normal day, I usually was happy to get one meal, be it an apple and some bread, a half-eaten sandwich out of the trash, or something else.
I guess I was extra hungry because of all the walking and shopping we’d done.
I looked around. A wizened old man was sitting alone three tables away, and he was looking at me.
I slouched in my seat, trying to make myself look smaller. He kept staring. I scowled and wished I hadn’t lost my coat; I’d have pulled the hood over my head if I’d had it on.
The hubbub in the restaurant rose suddenly to a high volume, the larger party at the table in the corner all laughing at something someone had said. I stared, not used to being around so many people.
“Hello, is this seat taken?”
I swung my head around and stared.
It was the old man.
I scowled again and said, “Yes, it’s taken.” I put my bag on Chance’s chair so the old man couldn’t sit in it.
He shrugged and pulled another chair from the next table over, first asking the old women sitting there if he could take it.
I was alarmed.
Why is this old man sitting at our table?
He sat in the new chair, scooted it closer to the table, put his elbows on the wood and considered me silently.
My eyes went wide, and I looked down at my hands folded in my lap.
I felt very small.
“So, I noticed you when you came in,” the old man said. “My name is Boothby, and I work at the school.”
I looked up.
He nodded. “Yes, I’m a groundskeeper at Titania Academy.”
Okay, old man, I’m listening.
“There’s not many who come to the school who look like you,” he said.
A small inkling of worry blossomed in my stomach.
Where is Chance?
“You know, you shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are. It’s not your fault.”
I blushed red. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I felt alarmed and vulnerable. And worried.
“I think I might ...”
“Hi,” Chance arrived at the table holding two flagons of cider.
“Chance!” I soun
ded relieved and eager, even to my ears.
Chance glanced at the old man. “Boothby, you need to leave the table.”
“Mister Faunus,” the old man got to his feet. “How are you this fine evening?”
“Boothby, I’m on Academy business, on order from the queen herself. And you’re interfering with that business.”
The old man went white. He bowed his head, backing up, and left.
Chance set down the flagons of cider.
“Thank you for getting rid of him,” I mumbled.
Chance sat down.
“I wouldn’t worry about Boothby. He’s a gardener at the Academy. Pretty harmless.”
“He didn’t feel harmless,” I scowled.
“Here, take a sip of this. You’ll like it,” Chance pushed over the flagon.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Have you ever had apple juice?” Chance asked.
“No.”
“Well, hmmm. Okay. Well, this is fizzy apple juice, without the extra sugar. Try it.”
I took a sip. It was delicious.
“Mmmmmm,” I said, wiping the mustache of foam the drink had left on my upper lip.
Chance smiled. “Now tell me what Boothby said.”
“He said he was groundskeeper at the school. He said he noticed me when we came inside. He said there weren’t many who came to the school who looked like me, and that I shouldn’t be ... ashamed of who I was.” I looked up at Chance. “He made me feel bad, and I don’t know why. Do you know what he meant?”
Chance stared at me for a minute, considering. Then, he spoke. “Why do you think he said that?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Did he mean because of my clothes?” I looked down at my shirt. It still had dried blood on it from my ear. My pants were filthy. I blushed and scowled.
“Holly,” Chance took my hand. I looked up at him.
“He didn’t mean your clothes. He meant ...” Chance took a deep breath. “I guess you’ll find out sooner or later,” he mumbled.
“Find out what?
“Your hair, it’s platinum. And so are your eyes,” Chance said.
“My eyes?” I asked.
“Don’t you know what color your eyes are?”
“No. Aunt Clare just said they were beautiful eyes. I guess I never asked her what color they were.”
Faerie Misborn Page 6