Trial at the Faire

by Laurel Wanrow

  Spells! He already knew how their unnatural machinery took the lives of others. Why couldn’t Merlin understand? He’d survived one brief visit earlier this summer, but the elders said it dinnae count for this “human experience” trial. He and Raven had spent most of that visit with animals. So he was here now, and he fully intended to meet each expectation for this trial’s completion. He would nae be returning to human land again. It was too dangerous.

  “The lambs,” hissed Beri, his shoulders tight. “Merlin is waiting.”

  Raven was still messing around with rearranging the top panel.

  His fingers growing stiff around the metal wires, Beri checked for automobiles once more. He likely wouldn’t be breaking the rules to leave Raven here, because the tent was visible from the wagon, but he didn’t want to risk getting into trouble. Plus, he was nae about to miss the opportunity of Salm and Willow being on the path, an extra layer of safety. “Will you come on?” he growled.

  Raven shook his head. “I’ll catch up.”

  Beri marched away. Merlin had already chastised him for the use of magic. He didn’t need to be reprimanded for punching Raven, too.

  And he sorely wanted to. More people headed for the crafter area. Beri kept an eye on their movements, staying back to allow a crafter with a squeaky-wheeled wagon to go first on the path. That whine, thuds of boots, constant talking, hammering… The noise of this press of people had been only a slight worry, until he’d realized their buzz blocked the sound of the automobiles.

  Ahead, Willow and Salm walked slowly toward him, whispering as they looked with wide eyes at the passersby. Could any of the humans tell they were being studied? Beri didn’t detect a one of them gazing back. People were too busy setting up.

  Salm and Willow stopped as he reached them.

  “Beri, my mate,” Salm said, “keep watch for the pirate. I am quite jealous of his felt and feathered hat.”

  Beri nodded and made to head on before Willow caught his arm. Spells. What now?

  “Salm? Go ahead to the wagon,” she said. “I’ll be there soon.”

  Salm started to protest, then did as Willow said. Beri walked on. He didn’t like the set of Willow’s mouth. She was kind, but very nearly copied her mother in mothering both him and Raven…though Willow had a different interest with Raven. Beri could tell.

  She kept pace with him. “How are you feeling?”

  She knew, of course. Everyone knew he hadn’t wanted to come. And why. “I canna stop thinking of my mum now that we are here on human land.” He didn’t look at her as he said it. “The automobiles…”

  “Her death,” Willow said with simple straightforwardness.

  Each sight of an automobile reminded him of the day he’d been told his mum wasn’t returning home from a rare trip to a human city. “I…” He stopped. He hadn’t thought of his mum this intensely in years, and his sadness added to his worry. No matter that he and Willow had grown up closely on the isle, Beri couldn’t say a word more and stay dry-eyed.

  “’Tis all right to feel your pain.” Willow patted his arm. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  Was there? He wanted to know if he stepped from a busy street corner like his mum had, would he live, when she hadn’t? It sounded ridiculous to even think it, let alone voice his worry. He had to listen for the motors himself. “Nay, nothing,” he murmured.

  “Let me know if anything comes to mind.”

  He was able to smile in reply. She was a true friend. She’d gotten him and Raven out of many fixes, like the time their rope swing had broken a branch, and she’d not only caught them, but also repaired the limb. Still, nothing could fix your mum’s dying. Having Willow acknowledge his hurt helped, especially with Raven so easygoing about this trip. Growing up, they’d shared everything. Now Raven had different plans, different worries. Beri wasn’t jealous, but he missed Raven’s distractions.

  Beri dropped off his panels and returned to the wagon. Willow and Coral stood at the back with Raven. Willow elbowed Raven’s arm and whispered something, and Beri knew they’d been talking about him. Around the front of the wagon, Merlin still had the lambs by their leads and was speaking with Salm. Had he noticed that Raven hadn’t left to help set up the lamb pen?

  Beri kept his annoyance to himself, but he was nae about to carry the second set of panels.

  Up in the wagon, Oyster of the Estuary bent double behind crates of woolens. His daily swims gave him the muscles to power through anything—including shoving two double-stacked crates, one per hand. The boxes skidded to the back of the wagon, their bouncing skeins of yarn matching his curly, sandy-colored hair.

  Before Beri could reach for one of the boxes, Salm arrived and took the closest. He tossed Beri a glare.

  What is that about?

  As Salm departed, Coral leaned around Willow. “Why is Salm mad? I haven’t done anything this time.”

  “That, a fellow doesn’t need to ask,” Raven answered. “He’s been carrying boxes while you tie pretty knots.”

  “Ha,” Beri said to Coral. “I’d love to let you take the blame, but he aimed that look at me, and I haven’t done anything either.”

  “Shh,” Willow admonished. “Everyone is doing their part.”

  Oyster squatted before them. “I thought he was mad at me. Last week, he flew—came down to the Estuary with the dolphins to swim with me like usual. But when I tried to help Willow carry the tent poles earlier, he got huffy and asked what I was doing.”

  Raven froze, his eyes narrowing. “What were you doing?” he snapped.

  Spells, what had set Raven off?

  Before Beri could elbow Raven, Oyster jumped down and picked up a crate. “Not half of what I should be, according to Mother.”

  “Hey.” Coral pointed to the crates remaining at the head of the wagon. “Aren’t you going to pass us the rest?”

  Without looking back, Oyster left. Beri grabbed a crate and hurried after him. Being the tallest of the lads, he caught up quickly. Oyster, who might surpass Willow in proper behavior, didn’t deserve Raven’s attitude, whatever had brought it on. “Ignore those two and enjoy today.”

  Oyster side-eyed him. “You are telling me this?”

  “Well, someone ought to enjoy it.”

  “Mother agrees with you that this is a dangerous exercise. Lady Lark had to pressure her to allow me to attend.”

  “Better with support than thrust into a situation with no experience,” Beri parroted Merlin’s reasoning.

  “Mother agreed,” Oyster said dryly. “Yet the only ones of us who have our minds on the task are me, you and Willow. The other three regard this as a frolic.”

  Beri shook his head. “Salm has passed this trial previously. He’s come along to help.”

  “So his sister could attend, you mean. Coral is too young to be here,” Oyster said firmly. “Mother says the elders have erred in that decision.”

  Flights. Some days, talking to Oyster was like dealing with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde as he wavered between trying to please his mother and being himself. “Have you considered that the very things you don’t like your mother doing to you, you are doing to others? Like judging Coral.”

  Oyster huffed and stopped walking. Beri nearly slammed into him.

  “Sp—” Beri started and caught himself, for across their path came a woman wearing a wool vest with lacings over a full skirt. Her green hands cradled a lidded pewter mug as if it were treasure.

  Oyster stared at her green face, his eyes wide.

  Spells, indeed. Beri had to admit—only to himself—that his guard had gone down. He needed that for automobiles. This…person was fine, even if she had unaccountably tinted her skin. No danger there.

  Behind her strode a man, also with green skin and wearing a laced-up vest, but one decidedly too small over his linen shirt and cutoff trousers. He carried a babe swaddled in an oversize knit jumper with a simple linen cap. Neither of their clothing choices was too odd, just the flared tubes—
mimicking mushrooms?—protruding from the man’s bald head.

  “What was that?” Oyster whispered after they had passed.

  Beri shook his head and whispered back, “Best not to question why hu—they do these things.”

  Oyster studied him a moment before starting forward again. “To judge, you mean.”

  Good, Oyster was on board now. “One of the challenges of the trial is to support each other in all the ways people do.” That was the way elders said without magic. “As you surmised, ’tis my goal to accomplish our tasks, nae repeat them.” And never return.

  Oyster sighed. “Mine, too. Mother will be furious if I have to repeat the trial in three years with the twelfth-years. That would be an embarrassment.” They were approaching Ms. Scallop’s tent when he said, “Very well. I shall do what I can to make sure each of us succeeds. I will be the kind of friend you are to me.”

  “I…thank you. I daresay you have reminded me to do the same.”

  “Willow said…” Oyster ducked his head. “I mean, seems you’re holding up fine.”

  Aye, Willow had told the others. He was managing now, but… Beri’s gaze swept to the busy entrance gate where more automobiles kept arriving.

  “If you decide you need an excuse,” Oyster said, “how about sick to your stomach?”

  “Tried that already.” Beri shook his head. “Merlin suggested taking castor oil, and I became miraculously better. I’m sure he wouldn’t hesitate to discover he’s brought it along. Besides, I have to pass the trial.”

  Oyster laughed. “Clearly, you don’t have the proper practice at this. Do everything you need to pass before you become ill. With a reason. Some strange food they serve here is sure to set you off.”

  ’Twas nae a bad idea.

  Smiling, Oyster winked in a knowing way. “Manage that, and you will be the golden lad. Among all in our group, I fear Raven is the one most likely to fail.”

  Aye? He was distracted, all right—especially with Beri’s mistake of using magic and Lark’s forgotten peregrinator—but he did care about passing, Beri was sure about that. Almost as much as he cared about Willow...

  Oh Blessed Orb. That explained why Raven was rude to Oy and why Salm had glared at him. Salm had been showering attention on Willow, and then Willow had broken off to talk to him. Ho, did Raven know Salm had Willow in his sights?

  Beri laughed humorlessly. “Raven has many things on his mind today. Take my advice and help where you can, but don’t jeopardize your own trial. That’s what I’m doing.”

  3

  Vying for an Opportunity

  Ms. Scallop was far more particular about those brown lambs than Raven had realized. After he’d carried over his pen panels, Gran’s cousin put him to installing fasteners to hold them together, four to a joint. Beri conveniently claimed he needed to keep walking to work off his nerves, leaving Raven alone on his knees in the wet grass.

  “I canna risk them escaping,” Ms. Scallop repeated as she joined an adjacent set of panels, and Dad continued to hold the leads—not Willow, as Raven had suggested. “Five years of breeding has paid off with this lot.”

  From their family visits to her farm, Raven knew she nurtured a breed that wasn’t all crossed and mixed for some human reason. These sheep were still like their wild ancestors from a human island, and there was something unusual about their long, fancy horns.

  He finished the fifth set of fasteners and rose up, plucking loose the soaked fabric of his trousers.

  With the bag holding the cashbox swinging at her middle, Ms. Scallop once more shoved and tried twisting apart the two newly attached panels. They held. She nodded. “You do a job right, Raven.”

  “Thanks.” Hmm, wet knees didn’t seem so bad now. It was a small price, he supposed, given Ms. Scallop had helped Gran and not said a word while protecting the peregrinator. As they knelt to install another panel, he asked, “What’s special about these lambs? Do the horns make the buyers think the wool is better quality?”

  She laughed. “Ach, the wool is of the highest quality, and I suppose you’re correct, folks are drawn to it more if they can say it came from a scarce six-horned sheep.”

  “Six?” He glanced at the lambs. Some of their horn nubs showed, but maybe the wool covered others?

  “Two of them!” Her eyes gleamed proudly. “And the other two Manx Loaghtans have four.”

  “Most sheep only have two, right?”

  She nodded. “Aye, these’d fetch a pretty price, but I’m keeping them to build my flock. I’ll show you which they are once we can turn them loose in here.”

  They finished the pen and put in their hay, water and an old blanket over one end for a hide. Dad let the lambs free. Two of them did indeed have three sets of bumpy horn nubs buried in their soft fleece. Raven repeated the Manx Loaghtan name he’d have to know to answer folks’ questions.

  “I’ll keep an eye on them while we set up,” Ms. Scallop said. “Would you move the display racks inside the tent?”

  Raven joined the others hauling crate after crate for Ms. Scallop, until they had her spinning and sales displays set up. Then he carried crates for any of the neighboring crafters that his gran deemed needed a hand. All of the Giuthas youths helped, dispersed to this trailer or that, in pairs that Gran directed. Raven hustled around with Beri or Oyster or Coral, but not Willow. When would his turn with her come? How can I casually ask what she was laughing about with Salm? When he saw Salm with her again, it sank in that their continued pairing was no accident.

  “Salm is seeking Willow’s affection,” he hissed to Beri as they wove through the increasing parade of humans.

  “I, uh, had noticed.” Beri wrinkled his nose. “Willow won’t take him seriously.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Lips pressed together, Beri shook his head.

  Blast it all! Beri knew Willow as well as Raven did. If Beri didn’t know whether Willow was taking Salm seriously, then Raven had no idea. The three of them were close, but that didn’t mean that the rest of the kids on the isle weren’t close friends, too. There were only the six of them, for Orb’s sake. What if Salm—who could be too charming for his own good—actually asked Willow to prebond? Salm wouldn’t hesitate to ask a serious thing like that. He…he might do it anytime. Like…today.

  The fear that Salm might get to Willow first—and she would say yes!—wouldn’t leave Raven’s mind. Then…I must declare myself. As soon as possible.

  Over an hour later, Gran felt, at last, they had done enough service.

  “Where’s Beri?” Dad asked him. “We have some reminders before you head out.”

  He found Beri inside the tent, slouched in a chair. Raven kicked his foot. “What’s with you?”

  “’Tis becoming too blasted crowded out there,” he muttered. “Gonna spend the rest of the trip right here.”

  “Like Gran will let you do that. Buck up.” He slid an arm under Beri’s and hoisted him to his feet.

  Outside, their chaperones had everyone gathered.

  “Stay together, threes or pairs,” Dad reminded them. “Engage in three or more conversations. The point of your trial is to gain confidence around these people. Each of you should ask a hu—”

  “Someone,” interjected Mr. Grouse, another of their chaperones.

  “Someone,” Dad repeated, “for information or directions. Even if you don’t need directions.” He gave Beri a pointed look.

  Beri didn’t meet his gaze, so Dad repeated it, saying his name, to which Beri muttered, “Aye.”

  Dad shifted his gaze to Raven.

  Raven jerked a thumb toward Beri. “I am nae responsible for him.”

  Beri’s head snapped around. “I do nae need looking after. I ken my duties.”

  “Ye all are responsible for each other,” Dad said firmly.

  “Aye, scallywags,” Salm said with a grin. “Me ma gave me the same orders regarding Coral, worrying over the minnow. I’ll trade any one of you for her.”

  H
is sister backhanded his belly, but Salm, grinning broader, caught it and spun the small lass in a twirl, making all of them—except Beri—laugh.

  Gran shoved her way among the group. “The lot of you are wasting time and scaring away Scallop’s customers by loitering about. Do as ye are told and be off until Scallop’s demonstration begins. One hour.” She flipped her hands in a shooing motion.

  Raven backed away automatically, but this time Gran’s flick hadn’t come with her usual spark of magical incentive to abide by her orders. He grinned down at her, which he quite enjoyed now that he’d passed her in height. “I could like this place if that’s how orders are given here.”

  Gran eyed him. “Remember, my lad, you will be going home again.”

  Behind her, Dad frowned. They shooed.

  Raven darted around the others to make sure he was beside Willow. They wove past the crafters’ tents, newly opened food stalls and an empty performance stage. Not much was going on yet. The end of the vendor area opened onto an open space leading up to the grand manor house, a fancy stone structure with crenelated watchtowers. Most of the long lawn had been roped off, and inside, several chaps were setting out open wooden fencing in a long row to divide the lawn.

  Salm hailed a passerby in modern human clothing. “This demonstration thing, is it worth watching?”

  “The joust?” The woman shrugged. “First time here myself, but I heard it’s the main event everyone comes to see. It’ll be crowded.”

  “Then we shall attend. Thank you, milady!” Salm made a small, elegant bow. It came off perfectly in his best leather waistcoat and trousers tucked into polished knee boots. When the lady smiled, he sauntered on, Coral and Willow in his wake.

  Blast, he’d lost Willow to Salm again. Raven elbowed Beri. “Trust Salm to show up the rest of us.” He wouldn’t admit that Salm had looked fully at ease while putting on his act. He had the most experience of any of them talking to folks, since the Seas family traveled to different enclaves to monitor fisheries and exchange goods for everyone. He’d also completed trials among humans with his older sisters, so he was the only one of them to have permission to go about alone today. Please, let him. That might be the only way Raven could garner more time with Willow.