by Richard Due
“Oh!” she exclaimed. But she recovered quickly, standing straight and knotting her fingers before her waist. “Well, then, are you all right?” She bent down, extending a hand. “Can you stand?”
Jasper gathered his legs under himself and slowly rose, tucking the moon coin inside his vest.
“I’m Cora,” she said, an amused grin beginning at the corners of her mouth. “This is Darce.” She motioned to the frowning girl staring at him with her arms crossed. “And I understand you’ve already met her brother, Teague?”
Jasper nodded.
“Ah, and those three little ones pretending to be asleep on the bed—those would be mine.”
The children on the bed giggled.
“I’m Jasper, Lily’s brother.”
Cora smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you, Jasper.”
After a long moment, Darce said, “Okay, so he’s here. Now can I go?”
Cora narrowed her eyes at Darce. “All right, you can go, but take him with you.”
“What?” said Darce, her eyes flashing.
“You’ll be going to see your father, I suppose?” said Cora, in a way that said she knew full well Darce’s plans.
“Yes, but—”
“No buts!” And Cora held up her hands. “You can take him with you, or you can come back outside and help finish hanging the laundry.”
Darce deflated. “Oh, all right.” She took a few steps toward the door, then turned on her heel and glared at Jasper. “Are you just going to stand there with that stupid look on your face?”
Jasper hastened to follow, but at the doorway Darce stopped and turned so fast that he bumped into her, which was a bit like bumping into a tree. Darce took a half step backward, and for a second Jasper thought she might take a swing at him; when she reached up, he flinched, to her amusement.
“Don’t worry,” she said, adjusting his collar, “I wasn’t going to hit you.”
They were so close now that Jasper could smell her hair.
Darce made a quick, military inspection of him. Then her eyes settled on his. “Don’t let anyone see that necklace. Father’s orders. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“No one,” she hissed. Her eyes flashed fiercely, adding a terrible weight to her command.
“Got it,” he said, fighting down the urge to salute.
Once outside, Jasper had to run to keep up with her. The streets were narrow, empty, and cold, except in the few places where the sunlight lent its bright warmth. The houses were packed on top of themselves and overhung their foundations, leaning into the streets. Jasper never once saw Darce look back to see if he was following.
Chasing the girl into a courtyard, Jasper got an eyeful of clear sky and his first sighting of the moons—half a dozen at least. Several appeared stationary, the rest moving at different rates of speed in various directions. The closest was deep-sea blue, and swallowed up half the sky.
No other sight could have brought the bedtime tales to life so vividly as the moons hanging in the sky before him. Dik Dek, he thought, unable to take his eyes off the great blue moon above. And Taw, and Barreth, and was that one Min Tar? I’m really on Dain.
Many moments later, when Jasper finally came to his senses, he began looking for Darce. She was nowhere in sight. A dozen small streets and alleyways connected to the courtyard; she could have gone down any one of them. Not knowing what to do, he drifted to a gurgling fountain in the center of the courtyard.
Jasper scanned the houses facing the courtyard. They looked better-kept than the houses in the alleyways, but not by much. He thought it strange that no one should be out and about despite the houses being so densely packed. Jasper dipped his hands into the fountain. It was icy cold. To warm his hands, he unbuttoned the cloak he taken from the Tomb of the Fallen, and thrust his hands into his own jacket pockets, which were still full of LUNA Bars. Mechanically, he pulled one out, ripped it open, and took a bite. He had just begun to chew when a hand seized him by the elbow, gripping it like a vise. Darce spun him around, outraged and out of breath.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “The fair is this way!” She gave a tremendous yank to get him moving again. The LUNA Bar flipped out of Jasper’s grip and fell into the fountain.
“Wait—”
“What now?” shouted Darce. She turned to look at him and stepped into a wash of sunlight. Her straw-colored hair turned golden, and her blue eyes danced with shadows and lightning bolts. Jasper felt the breath go out of him.
“What?” she shouted.
“It’s . . . nothing. Let’s go.”
Darce gritted her teeth and made a noise like an animal. She pulled on his elbow again and was off like a flash, only this time she kept a better eye on Jasper.
“Where are we going?” he called.
“To the fields.”
Jasper continued to marvel at the emptiness of the alleyways and streets that they were tearing through.
“Where is everyone?”
“Dragon Fair.” She didn’t speak the words you idiot, but Jasper heard them just the same.
Jasper was thrilled. “A Dragon Fair! Will there be dragons?”
Darce staggered, then stutter-stepped, then stopped. She turned and stared at Jasper with a withering look.
“What?” she said, her eyes twin storms.
“Dragons!” continued Jasper, getting more excited just thinking about it. “Will I get to talk to one?”
This idea caught Darce so off guard she flinched.
“Are you insane?” she asked, leaning forward. And though Darce was shorter than Jasper, it sure didn’t seem like it to him.
Jasper’s face fell. “What do you mean?”
Darce snatched Jasper’s collar, and once again he thought she meant to hit him. “Dragons don’t talk to you,” she said slowly, “they eat you!”
Jasper felt his mind reel off course. “But—”
“We’re celebrating killing one of the damn things.”
“Killing!” repeated Jasper, now feeling completely lost. “But why? Dragons are intelligent creatures. They’re friendly!”
Darce bared her teeth in a grimace. “I have lost friends to those fell beasts,” she said, and the anger in her eyes became so terrifying that Jasper had to fight the urge to sheer away from her gaze. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. But if you talk to me of such foolishness again, I promise you will regret it.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” said Jasper. “I’ll be more careful.”
Darce’s mood did not soften. “Come on then. We’re almost to the outer wall. Watch your step.”
Rounding a corner, they came upon a large, open tavern house. Above its doors hung a colorful sign depicting a huge singing clam. The big white pearl on the clam’s outstretched tongue appeared to bounce as the sign swayed in the light breeze. Ringing the great shell were four mermaids, also singing, in whose long flowing hair could be seen brightly colored seashells, green fish, little blue crabs, and orange starfish. The tavern was filled to bursting, and the proprietors had hastily set up taps and tables out in the street next to the big open windows. Still the crowds spilled out into the adjoining streets. Jasper thought them a shabby-looking lot, even though many were wearing their best clothes, but their merriment was clear and abundant.
A memory tugged at Jasper’s mind. More than a few of his uncle’s bedtime tales started or ended in one of the famed tavern halls of Dain. The Jabbering Tinker. The Bludgeoned Giant. The Tipsy Rinn. It made perfect sense that those who abandoned Perianth would bring to Bairne what they could to make them feel at home. And what’s more portable than a name?
“This is The Singing Clam,” said Jasper.
“Brilliant, brewmaster,” drawled Darce sardonically, dragging him throu
gh the crowd by his cloak. They ran past broken bits of wall that bordered broad, tilled fields. To their left, the long wall was in better repair the farther it swept away from them, and in less than a mile, it was fully intact. The opposite side of the valley was a mirror image. And at the valley’s terminus, a tall and grand city rose up behind the wall, all backed by breathtaking mountains.
The fields teemed with dingy tents and thousands of people. The clamor of their voices was raucous; Darce and Jasper had to shout to be heard. A haze of dust and smoke hung above it all.
Jasper tried to slow in order to get a better look at the city behind the walls, which looked vaguely familiar, but Darce kept dragging him onward.
“Where is this place?”
“What do you mean, ‘where?’”
“I mean what is the name of this place?”
Darce stopped.
“You don’t know where you are? How can you not know where you are?”
“Well, I know what moon I’m on.”
“Moon?” said Darce, looking incensed. “This is no moon!”
“Hey, this is my first time here. Cut me some slack.”
Darce folded her arms across her chest, tilted back her head, and stared at Jasper through the bottoms of her eyes.
“Just what part of Dain are you from?”
Jasper suddenly wished he knew what Lily had told them—and what she thought of these people. He wasn’t against giving out information to people he trusted, but Darce had put him on his guard.
“I’m not from Dain.”
“Not very likely. You flip between the common tongue and Dainish as though you’ve spoken it all your life. Granted, your accent is strange. It’s not a coastal one. It’s not even like your uncle’s.”
“My uncle has an accent?”
Darce rubbed her chin and Jasper could see she was deliberating. “Of course, no one travels much on Dain anymore, and the world is a large place. You could be from anywhere. My father says there are those who still brave the sea, and some even live to tell about it.”
“So how many languages are spoken on Dain?”
“There are only the two that I know of, but I’m sure there are others.” Darce took Jasper by the elbow again and yanked him forward. “Come on.”
“Wait, you haven’t told me where I am.”
Darce gave Jasper a knowing look, as if she was sure she was being played. “This is Bairne.”
Bairne, thought Jasper, Bairne . . . “That’s not quite right,” he said aloud, more to himself than Darce.
“You talk just like your uncle. Now come on, we’re wasting time.”
“How long have you known my uncle?” asked Jasper, but Darce had given up trying to pull Jasper and was now walking away at a fast clip.
As Jasper took in the fair, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much it was like the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire, only much larger, and with more realistic costumes. Darce was obviously searching for something, and she moved through the mass of people as though the rest of them were moving in slow motion. It was hard work, but Jasper found he could keep up with her as long he didn’t mind jostling and bumping into everyone he passed. Darce darted up and down long dirt and grass lanes, passing tent after tent. Some of them had their flaps tied open, and the fairgoers streamed in. The closed tents were made of heavier canvas, which gathered in folds on the ground.
When someone behind them shouted out Darce’s name, she swore under her breath, and the moon coin offered no translation. Darce didn’t seek out the voice. If anything, she hastened on.
“Hey, Darce, I think someone just—”
“Shut up!”
Jasper turned to see two girls and a boy sprinting after them and catching up quickly.
Darce continued to ignore the youths, scanning the tents until her eyes locked onto one in particular.
“In here!” she said, towing Jasper along.
Inside the tent were long rows of bleachers. Darce ducked behind one and was running down the length of the tent when a voice said, “Darce, up here.” A helping hand appeared, and Darce clasped it, clambering up the back of the bleachers with ease. Once up and over, she reached down a hand to Jasper.
As Jasper clambered into place and took a seat, Darce stepped down a row and to his left, taking a seat next to two men who looked back just long enough to give him a quick nod. Darce didn’t bother with introductions. Her attention was on the exhibition going on in the center of the tent, where a man, wearing a dingy white uniform was holding a longsword in his hand. Presently, he held up the pommel for all to see, explaining something about the grip to a young girl in the front row.
“Is that your fa—” began Jasper.
“Shh!” said Darce, waving Jasper off.
“Would someone like to show me how it’s done?” Dubb asked the crowd.
A small girl, maybe eight years old, stepped out of the audience and walked over to a stand of wooden practice swords. She pulled out one that seemed long for her height. Dubb walked over to a different rack and exchanged his sword for a much smaller wooden one. He walked over to the child, smiled, and dropped to his knees, balancing on them as though they were short legs. He tucked his elbow close to his hip and kept it there, further limiting his reach. The audience chuckled at the sight.
“Did he teach you like that, Darce?” said one of one men, in a teasing way that, to Jasper, seemed unwise.
Darce blew air through her teeth.
Sizing up the two men, Jasper realized that, although large, they had the smooth chins of boys. After studying their profiles and mannerisms for a time, he guessed they were only a few years older than he was.
A hand suddenly appeared next to Jasper’s leg. The three youths who had been chasing them were now scaling the bleachers. When Jasper tried to signal Darce, she ignored him. Not wanting to be rude, he offered a hand to each in turn. The two girls were wearing full-length dresses beneath hooded cloaks, which didn’t slow them down at all. They gave a polite nod and sat two rows down. The young boy sat down on Jasper’s immediate right.
After a minute or two, one of the girls turned in her seat abruptly, throwing back her hood. Her eyes were dark and her shoulder-length hair black. She gave Darce a scathing look.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the house?” she asked.
Instead of answering her, Darce turned to one of the boys. “Grimm,” she said, “has he sparred with anyone exciting?”
“This morning he took on three men from—”
“Darce!” interrupted the black-haired girl. “It’s your turn. Why aren’t you at Tavin’s house? Did you leave Teague there all alone? Or did you just—”
“I’m finished waiting!” barked Darce.
The black-haired girl didn’t register the tiniest bit of intimidation.
“So she’s here? Where is she? You were supposed to bring her with you.”
“Shut it, Annora, or I’ll shut it for you!”
Annora’s face flushed. “You’re not Dragondain yet,” she spat, and then she closed her palms together in front of herself and began to pull them apart, forming a peerin. Both the boys leapt out of their seats.
“Falin, take Darce!” commanded the one called Grimm. He inserted himself between Darce and Annora and cautiously urged Annora to lower her hands. Falin, with equal caution, placed himself before Darce, holding his hands open but taking great care not to actually touch her.
Jasper felt a tap on his knee. The other girl had pushed aside the young boy and slid up next to him.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Bree. That’s my sister Annora. She’s not usually so tense as all that.” Then she began wagging her head from side to side. “Well, sometimes she gets like that, but only around Darce. And Darce has really been pushing it lately.”
Bree rolled her eyes and placed her hand on Jasper’s knee. “But that’s Annora and Darce. They’ve been at it since they were this high.” She gestured, then stared at her hand for a second. “If they were standing on this bench, of course, not the ground. If they were standing on the ground and they were this tall, that would be, like, sometime last year. What I meant to say was when they were little kids. Like, really small. Pretty much as soon as they could talk.” Bree began nodding her head. Her eyes grew distant, and a big smile formed on her face, as though she were remembering some particular Darce/Annora incident.
Seizing the opening, the boy Bree had displaced leaned forward. “I think he’s got it, Bree.” He extended a hand. “Hi, I’m Ridley, Annora and Bree are my sisters. Have you by chance met my mother, Cora?” he said, fishing for information. Jasper didn’t answer. “Perhaps my father, then—Quib?”
“I don’t know that name. I mean, Quib.”
“Ah, I see. And your name is . . . ?”
“Oh, I’m Jasper.”
Ridley pressed his lips together and slowly nodded his head. “Jasperrrrr . . .”
“Jasper Winter. I’m Lily’s brother. You met her recently? My Uncle Ebb—”
Annora stopped bickering with Darce and turned to stare at Jasper. Bree’s eyes flashed.
“Uncle?” said Ridley, still shaking Jasper’s hand. “Uncle? . . . Lord Autumn is your uncle?”
“So you’re the one,” began Annora, “and you’re here—” Annora collapsed her peerin and sat down, making Falin and Grimm much less anxious. “Darce! Why didn’t you say something!”
“You didn’t ask,” Darce craned her neck to see what her father was up to in the center of the tent. Jasper was less surprised, now that Grimm and Falin were standing, that he had at first mistaken them for men. They were very broad in the shoulder, and stood tall in matching black cloaks. Jasper now imagined Grimm to be closer to his own age, with Falin a little older.
“Get out of the way, you barn!” hissed Darce, and she swatted at Grimm.