Flecks of Gold

by Buck, Alicia

  “You’ll learn about it when you can read it. Now would you mind trotting off somewhere for awhile so I can take a bath?” I waved a dismissive hand at him.

  He gave a low, and I thought, mocking bow. “I will gather sticks for a fire.”

  “You promise you won’t peek or anything?”

  He gave me the disapproving look I was becoming used to. “Never.”

  “Okay, sorry.” He could he be touchy sometimes. It made me feel more confident about actually dipping into the water, though.

  I waited until I couldn’t see him anymore before stripping off my dust-caked clothes and carefully feeling my way to deeper water. It was heaven. I soaped myself all over three times with the perfumed stuff. I even used it in my hair, wishing I had shampoo and conditioner. I didn’t want to be caught in the water when Breeohan came back, so I washed at hyperspeed.

  Looking at my clothes reluctantly, I decided that I would don my jeans and shirt so I could wash the native garb. The jeans and shirt were dirty too, but even a chicken coop hadn’t made them as dirty as traveling. I was washing the native clothes when Breeohan came back.

  He stared at me, taken aback by what I looked like now that I was clean and wearing different clothes. I cleared my throat and felt color rise to my cheeks. He’d been staring long enough. It was fascinating to watch a blush race up from his neck to his clean jaw and high cheek bones, transforming his milk chocolate skin to a brown red.

  “I’ve never seen such clothes. Do all your people wear such strange pants?”

  “Yes and no. It depends on whether you’re a jeans and T-shirt kind of person. Would you like to take a bath?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Sure, I’ll just find some rocks to lay my clothes on.”

  I grabbed my soggy clothes and walked barefoot over the sandy ground, watching out for prickly plants.

  “Mary.” I stopped and turned. “You won’t peek?” He smiled mischievously at me.

  “Never.” I bowed even lower than he had.

  “Such a bow is treason if done to any but the king,” he said, but he smiled.

  “I’ll remember that,” I said, and then walked away.

  Chapter 6

  I took my time finding rocks for my clothes, not sure when it would be safe to come back. But after a while of sitting around doing nothing, I decided he’d had time enough.

  “Yo, Breeohan, are you done yet?” I called from a distance.

  “Yes. I wondered if you would ever return.”

  I came closer and saw him sitting in front of a fire, getting out food.

  “Well, excuse me for thinking that you might want a long bath.”

  His skin looked a shade lighter than before, a light milk chocolate, and his wet hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. I still had mine loose, so it would dry faster. He wore a different outfit, and I wondered how he could fit so much stuff in one bag.

  I sat next to him on the big rock, noticing that he didn’t smell like flowers. He did smell good, though. It was nice to smell clean after so much dirt and body odor. Breeohan was putting various food bits in his small pot before he settled the pot within the fire’s coals. I took out a piece of stale bread, gnawing on it without much enthusiasm, despite my hunger. I yearned for American food. What I wouldn’t give for a cheeseburger.

  “Don’t you have any travel rations you could cook?” he asked.

  I shook my head. All I had was smoked meat, stale bread, and some chewy stuff that I suspected was dried fruit.

  “Why don’t you share your bread with me, and I will share my stew with you,” he said.

  “Okay, but you’re getting the bad end of the stick. The bread’s stale.”

  “You speak very strangely. What is it like, where you are from?”

  “Well, we don’t have a king in my country. It’s a democracy. We vote for a representative to decide what action is best. If enough individuals don’t like what that representative has done, they can elect a new person when that guy’s time is up. It’s a government ‘for the people, by the people, and of the people,’ ” I said dramatically.

  “So the citizens of your country actually determine what will happen?”

  I shrugged. “Mostly. What’s it like to have a king?”

  “He makes the decisions, but he does take a vote from the counselors on major problems. There is a counselor from every region, so that all may have a voice.”

  “Are there nobles?”

  He nodded.

  I continued, “I’ve never understood how that works. What makes one family noble? Their relationship to the king?”

  “That and individual struggles for position through marriage.” Breeohan scowled at the pot in the fire.

  “How weird. What about the people who aren’t lucky enough to be somehow related to the king?”

  “They are merchants or artisans or whatever they want to be.” He sounded bitter.

  “And what are you?”

  “A magician.” He looked at me with an expression that clearly said he didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe he had been thwarted by a noble. Maybe he was a poor noble and didn’t have much power to do anything but look pretty.

  Breeohan got the pot out of the fire and produced two spoons.

  “I only have the one pot, so we will have to share.”

  “Wow, no offense, but have you been sick recently? Do you get cold sores? Have you kissed anyone who may have a disease of some kind?”

  He looked offended. “I have not been sick, and I haven’t kissed anyone.” After a moment he asked, “What are cold sores?”

  I sighed. “Oh, never mind. I’m sorry if I offended you.” I paused. “Do you mean you’ve never kissed anyone at all?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  He blushed, caught. “It is not proper to speak of such things.”

  I was surprised. Breeohan was almost too good-looking for me to be comfortable around. The thought that he hadn’t ever kissed anyone both reassured me and made me shift uneasily. “Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s admirable. Not many of the boys my age at home could say the same thing. I’ve never been kissed.” The last sentence popped out of my mouth without permission. I wanted to pull it back but instead kept my expression nonchalant.

  Breeohan looked surprised, and I laughed at the absurdity of it all. “You may be shocked to learn that I don’t talk to people often.”

  “You? Silent?” He laughed as well.

  “It’s true, but I can’t afford to be a complete recluse now. I have to find my mother.” My face fell, and I picked at my shirt.

  “Well, with that outfit, those strange shoes, and that unusual bag of yours, you will have a hard time avoiding notice here.”

  “That’s okay. I’m used to being a freak,” I said, thinking of the girl from my chemistry class.

  “I’m finished with my portion of stew. You can have the rest if you think it won’t harm you.”

  “I said I was sorry,” I mumbled, grabbing the stew and spoon. It needed salt, but I was too hungry to care.

  I rolled out my blanket, but wasn’t able to fall asleep. I kept thinking of Mom, of Kelson, of impossible plans that would allow me to find her, of the hopelessness of it all. A tear rolled down my cheek, but I made no sound.

  In the morning we packed up quickly and started walking again. My hip felt sore from sleeping on packed dirt, but I was becoming more used to taking long strides. I didn’t ache as much as before. The day passed quickly, and I searched for patterns in objects as I went. I was staring at my fingers, trying to determine their lacings when Breeohan asked what I was doing.

  “I’m finding my finger’s lacings,” I said, a little embarrassed at being caught, though I didn’t know why I should be.

  “You see that clearly? You can see the whole lacing?”

  “I guess, but I don’t know what to do with the things once I see them. How did you learn which line to change to do whatever you want it to do?”

 
“I was taught, and I practiced.”

  “How long did it take you to learn?”

  “I have been learning lacings and other subjects for ten years, since I was ten.”

  So that made him twenty. I wondered how hard it would be for me to catch up to someone my age in pattern magic. That was, of course, if I ever learned it. I had too many things I was already worrying about. I didn’t need to add magic training.

  “I could teach you how to manipulate the lacings as we travel, if you like.”

  I hesitated. All this magic stuff was strange and a little scary to me. But if—no, when—I faced Kelson again, it would be better for me if I knew how to use the magic he could wield with such ease.

  “All right. Where do we start?”

  “To every change on any part of a pattern, there is a reaction of some kind.”

  I gathered that. That’s why I hadn’t dared experiment with the delicate strands on my own. I didn’t say this to Breeohan, however. I just looked at him expectantly.

  “You can start to anticipate what strands will cause what reaction after you have studied many lacings and can see what parts are similar or dissimilar in each pattern. Sometimes that will not help you, however. That is why lacings’ reactions must be passed from master to pupil.”

  All right already, I thought. Get to the action. The term “master” made me uncomfortable, and I wanted to start doing rather than talking about it.

  I didn’t have to wait long, however. He was soon showing me several patterns of the things around us and projecting what I could do to them by tweaking certain strands of each lacing. It was amazing. Breeohan showed me how to make a twig unbreakable, how to turn sand into glass or rock. I was starting to see what kind of things were possible with this lacing magic, but the pure scope of possibilities boggled and frightened me. I had to stop after awhile. Changing patterns took energy, and by noon I was spent.

  Breeohan sat calmly on a rock while I wheezed next to him. I glared. “Why aren’t you worn out?”

  Breeohan took out some rations while I stared at his graceful poise jealously. “I have been practicing for years and have built up endurance.”

  “Show off,” I mumbled. He smiled serenely.

  By late evening Breeohan and I reached the next village. I was glad to see that it was smaller than Cibar. There was no chance of getting lost, even if I was separated from Breeohan. The inn we found was as clean as I supposed any place in this primitive country could be, and I didn’t choke too badly on the food. At least it wasn’t slimy, which was a big plus. There was an awkward moment when the innkeeper looked at us slyly, flashed this icky, knowing grin, and asked if we wanted a nice room with a big bed.

  “Do you see a ring on this finger? No! So you shouldn’t assume—”

  Breeohan broke into my speech since I guess he saw that the innkeeper was confused. “We need two separate rooms,” he said.

  “What does a ring mean?” he asked after the innkeeper stalked away in an offended huff.

  “Oh, I didn’t think of that,” I said, embarrassed. “In my country, a ring on the left hand’s third finger means that you’re married.”

  “In our country one shows that he is wedded by wearing a band on the left wrist. I wondered myself if you were married.” He looked pointedly at my watch that I still wore despite its uselessness. I blushed deeply, quickly unclasped the watch, and stuffed it in my backpack. It was disorienting, not knowing anyone’s cultural system, and I was getting tired of always being confused.

  The next morning we headed out before the sun had risen fully. The air whispered with a cool breeze, but I knew it would soon change to a hot wind that would squeeze the moisture from my skin.

  “So, wristbands show if you’re married. Is there anything else I should know about before I go and stick my foot in my mouth again?”

  “What does that mean, ‘stick my foot in my mouth’? It sounds painful.” I glanced toward him to see his brows drawn together. He looked frustrated and confused.

  “It just means that I made a mistake, spoke without knowing what was going on. I’ll try to steer clear, I mean, stay away from colloquial phrases, but I’m not sure if I’ll manage it very well.”

  “I would not wish to point out things of which you might already be aware, but I did notice that you do not observe the going down of the sun in the evening, nor do you thank the sun in the morning.”

  “Is that what you were doing when you touched your forehead and swept your arm up before? Is that a cultural or a religious thing?”

  “Both. The sun is God’s banner, reminding us of his daily presence in our lives. That is one reason why it is better to travel during the day, for God’s presence in the night is much dimmer. Day is a time of bright truth where dark things cannot hide.” He spoke simply, with no trace of doubt.

  “So if I don’t salute the sun will I get in trouble?”

  Breeohan ran his hand over the strap of his bag, back and forth before answering. “In a way, you may have trouble. You could be labeled as a blasphemer. That would not be too bad. But if you are accused of being a worshiper of Baleel, the dark one, that would be serious. Worshipers of Baleel are hanged, and the citizens may not bother to give you a trial before they kill you for fear of a curse.”

  I shivered, though the sun was now high and the air was like a fiery blanket. “I guess I’ll salute the sun from now on. Thanks for the tip.”

  For the rest of the day, Breeohan taught me new lacings. The patterns were starting to get a little jumbled in my head, so he quizzed me until I wanted to scream and had to ask him to stop before I bit his head off.

  That night we slept in the open, and the next morning I saluted the sun with Breeohan as it rose.

  The following day saw us walking resolutely in the baking sun as Breeohan taught me new lacings and what to do with them. I started to guess which strand could be tweaked before Breeohan showed me, and he’d tell me if I’d guessed correctly or if I would have blown us up. It seemed I was gaining endurance in walking and manipulating lacings at the same rate. My legs were less sore, and I was able to change about twenty lacings before I had to call it quits.

  Breeohan admitted he was shocked at my progress.

  “What can I say? I’m an A student,” I said.

  Breeohan didn’t ask what I meant. He just shook his head, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Why even try . . . crazy ranting.”

  I grinned slyly. “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”

  “Of course not,” he said stubbornly, gaze fixed on the road.

  “You don’t want to know what an A student is?”

  He kept striding forward, looking down the road, and I just waited.

  “Oh, very well! What is an A student?” His breath whooshed out, and he glared at me before his twitching lips gave him away and he smiled.

  I told him all about my school and classes, changing the words if they didn’t translate so that he could understand.

  “I’m tired of talking about me. Tell me about you. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “I have no siblings, and my mother lives near the palace. The wind flew over my father many years ago.”

  It was my turn to be confused. “What does that mean?”

  “He is gone.” He seemed to struggle with trying to explain, as if he had been perfectly clear in the first place.

  “Did he leave you? My father left my mom and me too. Just up and vanished without even telling her he was running off.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not what I meant. He has gone with the wind.”

  I felt like giggling at his inadvertent Scarlet O’Hara reference, but then I finally got that he was saying his father was dead, which sobered me instantly. “Do you miss him?”

  “I hardly knew him. I was at school, and meetings between us were formal.”

  “I’ve often wondered what it’s like to have a father,” I said.

  “You don’t remember y
our father then?”

  “He left my mom before I was born. In fact, she says he didn’t even know she was pregnant with me. Don’t get me wrong, though. My parents were married. He just left before she found out about me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. Mom and I do fine by ourselves. I take care of her.” I stopped, realizing that I had failed to protect her from Kelson. I had brought him into our home. If that was taking care of Mom, I should be fired.

  Breeohan must have seen my face fall. “It is not for the child to take care of the parent, but the parent to care for the child until the child is young no longer. Then the role is reversed.”

  “Hey, who’re you calling a child?”

  “It’s an old saying.” There was a slight smile on his face which I regarded suspiciously. “I was simply trying to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, Mary.”

  “But it is my fault. I was the one who fell for his enchantment trick and let him waltz right into our house. Ismaha said I could have stopped the enchantment any time if I’d really wanted to, but I was weak and foolish.”

  “Enchantments are sly things. Even a fully trained mage could fall under the influence of one if the caster is subtle enough about it.”

  I knew he was just trying to make me feel better, but I appreciated the effort. “I bet you’d never fall under an enchantment, or something similar, say . . . feeling befuddled over a girl.” I smiled playfully at him, thinking of Avana.

  He blushed as I had intended. Really, he was just too easy.

  We got to a town that night, and after a salute to the sun, we headed to our different rooms. The next morning’s salute creeped me out when I noticed several villagers scrutinizing my movements. I was glad Breeohan had instructed me.

  Walking was easy today. My muscles bunched and slid without any soreness at all. I also noticed that my legs looked a little leaner, a bonus I was happy to observe. On top of all this good news, I was able to perform fifty lacings before I had to stop for the day. It was time for a little fun.

  “So tell me about this Avana girl. Is she everything that is lovely and wonderful? Do you swoon at the sight of her? You do blush a lot, but somehow you don’t seem like the swooning type.”