A Child of Great Promise: An Altearth Tale

by Ellis L. Knox

  Five more times, bulls ran. The day grew warmer. Talysse wanted to be indifferent, but each bull behaved in new ways. She quickly spotted her favorites among the raseteurs and found herself cheering along with everyone else. It helped when a vendor came by with fruit and cool water.

  At last there came an end. The sun was just touching the western edge of the arena. Despite all the excitement, Talysse felt she had wasted the day away. Guarin and the others stood up. Finally! Talysse thought.

  She followed the others through a crush of people, all of whom appeared to believe they ought to be the ones to leave first. Talysse began to worry that Detta might be knocked down, but she could do nothing to protect her. It was all she could do just to keep from being trapped with her arms at her sides. They shuffled and pushed their way through the dark tunnel and out of the arena, back into bright sunlight. Talysse felt relief, not only from the crowd, which now surged away like a river meeting the sea, but also to see that it was not so late as she feared. Early afternoon.

  Ceranne pulled Detta and Talysse to one side, to an island formed by a vendor’s stall.

  “Guarin and the boys need to bring Puissant back to the pens, then they will bargain our cattle for a good price. Ours is the only victor today, so we will get the best price. Did you notice?”

  Talysse said she did, though in truth she had found it all hard to follow. Besides, she had other matters on her mind.

  “I need to go,” she said, unable to find any polite way to say it. “I have to find the king.”

  “I understand, but the city is a chancy place,” she said. “I worry about you going alone.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Talysse said, again regretting that she sounded so blunt.

  “What about those who search for you?”

  “They won’t find me. And if they do, it’s not likely you would be able to stop them, since they’re wizards. Coming with me would only put you in danger as well.”

  “Donat says he will go.”

  “I thank you and I thank Donat,” Talysse said, finding her manners at last. “And I thank Guarin and all the others. You have saved me twice already.”

  “They say three times makes the charm.”

  “They also say third try is ill luck.”

  Ceranne smiled. “There is no end to things they say, is there?”

  Talysse smiled back. Detta looked from Talysse to Ceranne and back again, but said nothing.

  “So. I can see you are determined, and you are a young woman of great determination, along with skill and courage. If the Syndics happen upon you, they may come to regret it.”

  Talysse’s chest swelled. Besides Detta, she’d never had anyone pay her such a compliment.

  “I’ll do all I can to stay out of their way,” she said.

  “Wise too, I see. But now I’m just flattering. You must go at once. Keep that hair of yours covered, but I must take back the hat. No longer should you try to pass as a gardien. The façade is too easily penetrated. You are simply a country girl and her gnome, seeing the sights, yes?”

  Talysse nodded and handed over the black hat.

  “I’m sorry I lost the other.”

  “No matter. You must come visit me, when your search is over.” Ceranne leaned forward and kissed Talysse on her forehead, then leaned down to kiss Detta on the top of her head. She whispered something to the gnome that Talysse couldn’t hear, then stood again. “May the luck of the white horse go with you.”

  “And with you,” Talysse said, though she did not know what white horse was meant.

  With that, Ceranne gave her a little push, setting her out into the flood. All Talysse had to do was follow it. Within two heartbeats, Ceranne had disappeared into the crowd.

  CHAPTER NINE

  In Search of a King

  Talysse felt like a coracle thrown by a tide. The crowd around the arena moved this way and that. At first it was all she could do was keep hold of Detta and not to lose her footing. Then a current caught them and swept them into a street. They washed up onto a small porch that fronted a severe-looking stone building with no windows.

  “Ayi, ayi,” Detta panted, one hand to her chest. “I almost lost my pack.”

  “I know,” Talysse said. “Everyone is in such a hurry.”

  “And so many of them!”

  Talysse adjusted the pack on her shoulder. “Well, we can’t just stand here. Let’s go further, out from between these buildings. They’re so close.”

  “Don’t let go!” Detta said, and the two dove back into the throng.

  They wove through masses of people, who seemed to be moving in every direction possible, and some that were impossible. The buildings stood three, four, even five stories tall. At street level they were stone, but the upper stories were timbered, with the wood painted blue and white and yellow.

  Talysse turned into a wide secondary street. Every building crowded shoulder-to-shoulder with the next, though here and there a tunnel revealed an interior courtyard in which she caught fragments of green. She tried to keep her mind on eluding any who might be trailing her, but impressions of the city nearly overwhelmed both of them. Detta kept uttering cries of surprise and Talysse kept craning her neck and gawking. The bright colors of window shutters and doors, the steeply canted roofs, the small statues perched on upper levels—a hundred impressions kept surprising her. Building after building looked grand enough to be a palace.

  They worked their way along more streets, none of which were empty. Not only had she never seen so many people in one place, she had never seen so many different kinds of people. Humans made up the majority, but gnomes were plentiful as well, hurrying along in small groups, heads down, intent on their business.

  “Why are they all away from their vills?” Detta wondered. “It’s time for spring planting.”

  “They live here,” Talysse said, though this was only a guess. “Or they are here on some errand. After all, you yourself are here, true?”

  Detta winced. “It is so,” she said quietly.

  But it was the elves who most caught her eye. These moved about singly, gliding through the crowds as easily as a fish in a stream. Their hair, whether silver or gray or black, caught the sunlight and glittered like ice. Their thin faces looked straight ahead, eyes in constant movement, as if watching for game in underbrush. Each kept his third eye closed. She wanted badly to speak to one, but they looked busy and intimidating. Besides, she was going to see the king.

  “It may be possible to ask one of those men,” Detta said, pointing to three armed men standing idle between two buildings. They wore the gold lion of Arelat on azure and white clothing. Talysse snatched at Detta’s arm and pulled it down.

  “Detta,” she whispered, “no. Let us ask a merchant instead.”

  The buildings on this wide street all had doors deep at the end of dark entryways, but down the side streets were shops. These had wide windows, with coverings that folded out to make tables. These were covered with hats or tools or foodstuffs, depending on the shop. Some signs made sense—a key, scissors, a kettle—but others made no sense at all. What did a dragon mean? Did they sell dragon claws? Were dogs for sale at the sign of the dog? Well then, what did the one-legged man signify, or the man riding a fish?

  They stopped at a shoemaker’s shop, leaning through the open shop window to speak to the man inside. He was an ancient craftsman, hunched over a boot fitted onto a last.

  “Your pardon, sir,” Talysse said, trying hard to sound polite but not provincial.

  The shoemaker looked up from his work. His hands and forearms were stained and he squinted badly. He looked them over and one eyebrow went up. He returned to his work.

  The two waited a moment, then Detta said, “Perhaps he did not hear us. He is very old.”

  “Your pardon, sir,” Talysse said more loudly. “Where does the king live?”

  The man raised a bony arm and pointed toward one wall of his shop.

  “Pardon?” Talysse was baffled b
y this.

  The bony arm jabbed. “Straight on,” he said, then he returned to his work.

  Talysse backed away, feeling as if she had disturbed some subterranean animal.

  “Come along, Detta,” she said. “This may be more difficult than I thought.”

  They asked directions four more times. No matter which direction they were headed, the instructions were variations on the same:

  “Straight on.”

  “Directly, thus.”

  “Follow this street.”

  Or simply an arm, pointing.

  “Lyssie, look. Let us stop there.” Detta pointed to a sign hanging over a door. Six faded white rectangles were painted on it.

  “Is it an inn?”

  “Better,” Detta said. “It is a reader.”

  “Oh, not now, Detta. Besides, we must be careful of our money.”

  “You know best, of course,” Detta said, then added a very small, “…but.”

  Talysse looked inquiringly at her.

  “I do not know where to go or how to get there or who to ask. Do you?”

  Talysse had to admit that she did not.

  “I shall use my own money,” Detta offered.

  Talysse smiled. “Don’t be so solemn, tante. We’ll go see the reader. I could do with a laugh. But she must not cost too much!”

  The buildings here were nondescript and shabby, though they had once been grand, with windowless stone façades, all three and four stories. The reader’s was a narrow wooden building, unpainted, two stories. A narrow gap separated on either side, as if the other buildings could not bring themselves to touch it. The shop had no windows, and no door. Instead, a colorful curtain hung in the entrance. The gnome approached it gingerly.

  “Hello?” she called in a soft voice.

  “Just go in,” Talysse said.

  “What if she is busy?”

  “Then we’ll leave.”

  “What if she is not at home?”

  “Detta,” Talysse exclaimed, exasperated. She pulled the curtain aside and all but pushed the gnome into the room. “Let’s get this over with.” She stopped just short of saying “this foolishness.” She told herself to let Detta have this moment, but added that she would also be on her guard.

  The interior was small, dark, and redolent of sweet herbs. Talysse had never been to a reader of cards, but they figured in many a legend. Mostly readers were placed at an empty roadside, or in a forest hut, and always they wore lots of gold bracelets and silver rings—each one enchanted, of course. The women at fêtes, the real readers, wore brass and nickel, and told the foolish what they wanted to hear.

  This room showed no sign of decoration. A single lamp burned on a lone table, lacking any sort of chair or stool. Near the table, which stood against the far wall, was a second doorway, also curtained. Figures and shapes were woven into it, indistinct in the wavering light. No breeze disturbed the curtain, but the shapes seemed to move of their own accord.

  As she squinted through the dim light, the curtain moved and a human woman stepped through. She assessed her visitors with a single, sharp look. Talysse felt she’d just been weighed like a sack of flour. The woman was heavy, neither young nor old, with small eyes that crouched beneath heavy brows. Her skin was pale as yellowed parchment.

  “We ask for a reading, madame,” Detta said, her voice brave.

  “A silver each,” the woman said. Her voice whispered like wind in grass.

  Talysse was about to declare that was too high a price, but Detta was already holding her hand out, a clutch of pennies in it.

  “I am Olu. Come inside.”

  Talysse thought this behavior rude, but she followed the woman through the curtain. The second room was no closer to what she expected—a wide table with stools on the near side. On the other, a high-backed chair, carved with a pattern of oak leaves. It was the grandest thing in the room, the woman included.

  She moved smooth as a shadow, settling into the tall chair like a leaf.

  “Sit.” The command slid across the table. Talysse glanced at Detta, then both sat. The stool was tall and narrow and uncomfortable. Talysse hoped the business would not last long.

  The only thing on the table was a stack of cards no taller than the side of her finger. She could see no markings on the yellowed backs. The place, the person, the cards themselves—all appeared as ordinary as a warehouse and just about as interesting.

  “The gnome will ask her question.”

  Detta did not hesitate. “How is my family?”

  “You must ask of yourself, not of others; for yourself and not for others.”

  “Oh.” Detta leaned to one side, a sign of confusion and uncertainty.

  Talysse suppressed irritation. This human must have little experience with gnomes not to know they always put others before themselves. Her ignorance, she vowed, had better not hurt Detta’s feelings.

  Talysse folded her arms. The woman would ask her next, and she had not given it any thought. Several clever, sarcastic questions flitted through her mind. When will I learn to fly? That would trip her up. Where is my magic staff? Then she thought, Where is my mother? and the question seared her heart and nearly leaped into her mouth. She clamped her teeth to keep it in, startled by the sudden intensity. She was scolding herself for even thinking of a serious question, and almost missed Detta’s.

  “When will I return home?”

  Olu picked up the deck and held it out in her open palm. The cards were nearly square, unlike any sort of cards Talysse had seen. “Speak your question to the cards.”

  Talysse suppressed a groan at the theatrics. Detta leaned forward, close to the cards. She spoke in her kindest voice, as if she were talking to a doll.

  “When will I go home?”

  The reader pulled back. Using just the one hand, she dealt the cards into three ranks of five across, laid with perfect neatness, like soldiers on parade. The pale backs looked up at the dark ceiling. Talysse wondered what sort of patterns would be on the reverse.

  Olu whispered something. Her hands rested on the table. Nothing happened. Talysse shifted in her chair and scowled as nothing kept on happening. Detta stayed rapt, all her attention on the blank cards.

  Olu breathed in, sharp and sudden. Both her hands fluttered across the cards then came to rest again. A moment later, smoke appeared.

  Not a general smoke, nor any kind of smoke Talysse had before seen. From each card rose a separate tendril, like the smoke from a snuffed candle, but heavier and slower, almost oily in look, serpentine in movement. Each tendril disappeared into the darkness of the high ceiling, and each left behind a picture.

  On each card an image had appeared, drawn in black charcoal. Olu had never touched the cards. Talysse held her breath. This was no charlatan. Her cards had answers. She was at once afraid and hopeful.

  Olu pointed to the row of five cards nearest Detta. “Your past.” She pointed at the middle row, then the third. “You. Your future.”

  The figures on the cards were ridiculous. A knife. A plough. Sheep in a field. Two dogs. A running figure chasing two others down a road. The images were hard to see. Talysse wished for more light. Olu’s voice distracted her. Sibilant and soft, it drew her attention like a lone snake in a ballroom.

  “Your vill is at peace. Everyone is healthy. Your nephew’s arm heals. All is orderly.”

  “May the gods keep them so,” Detta said, quiet and solemn.

  “You are caught between horns,” Olu continued. “Every choice is hard, all roads are stony and steep. But here—” She indicated two cards at the center, the dogs and the sheep. “Duty serves honor. Everything balances on that.”

  Talysse thought this needlessly vague, but Detta was nodding, so she let it go. Olu passed her hand over the third rank. The figures there seemed to shudder under her hand.

  “You will not return to your vill for a long time,” Olu said.

  Detta gave a long, shuddering sigh.

  “But long before that
, you will be home. Trials await, but a home waits for every true heart.”

  The reader leaned back in her chair. With a start, Talysse realized the cards once again lay in a single deck. Detta was looking at her, eyes shining.

  “All is well, Lyssie, and all will be well.”

  Talysse did not see how the gnome had come to that conclusion, but she nodded.

  “Ask your question,” Olu said.

  It took a moment for Talysse to realize who the reader meant. Her head was not quite spinning, but it teetered dangerously. Some, she knew, truly could read the cards—that was one reason why there were so many fakes. Had she happened upon the real thing, just when she was lost? She was so afraid to hope, it made her insides hurt.

  Olu picked up the cards and held out the deck.

  “Ask the cards.”

  Who is my mother? Where is my father? Why am I hunted? So many questions pushed forward at once, her mouth felt full of them. When she opened it, though, only one came out, emerging like the cry of a newborn.

  “Who am I?”

  She tried to call the question back. It was a foolish question, the question of a child. But too late. Her question lay on the table like a wounded bird, showing everyone just how lost was the girl named Talysse, who did not know her parents, her people, or herself.

  Olu gathered the cards, her face showing the briefest of frowns. The cards dropped from her hand like leaves and arranged themselves like ducklings. The pattern was unlike Detta’s—a circle of cards, with one at the center and four at the sides. That’s me in the middle, Talysse thought, and was terrified to see what shape might appear there.

  Olu passed her hands over the cards, palms down. Talysse felt her heart pounding, could hear it in her ears. Her breaths shuddered by. She feared what Olu would say, but feared also the silence.

  Breaths came and went. Detta glanced sidelong at her. Olu stared at the cards as if her eyes might command them. Talysse thought of the Danish king commanding the sea to halt. But of course it never did.

  “You are not elf.”

  Olu’s voice held statement and question in either hand. The cards lay pale and empty on the bare table.