by C. K. Brooke
“It is the most magnificent nuptial bracelet I’ve ever seen.” She took the brawny man into her arms. “And I’d not trade it for the world.”
He wrapped her in his mighty embrace. “Write to your mother, then. Invite her to be a witness to our matrimony, and to live with us here in Solomyn.”
Selu could not restrain the single tear that leaked from her eye. This was a kindness she’d not anticipated. She nodded against his massive shoulder, overcome with gratitude.
“WHAT’S THE WORD TODAY, BETINE?”
The older woman scowled. “Don’t look so cheerful, Carlo.”
The boy laughed. “It’s that bad, then?”
Bet Toustead handed over the parchment she’d torn from Capitol Square. Carlo looked merely amused, blond curls falling over mischievous blue eyes. “An article about lumber shortage? And this is newsworthy how?”
Bet sighed, rolling up the parchment and swatting his head with it. “Are you such a fool, boy? Jordinians are already hungry and cold. If wood becomes a commodity, things are only going to worsen around here.”
The young man chuckled darkly, indicating his fellow urchins peddling stolen wares in the streets. “It can’t get much worse.” He shrugged. “And besides, is there not the entire Knights’ Forest from which to harvest plenty of wood?”
“And you think the other nations of West Halvea shall simply permit us to seize the forest for our own?” Bet shook her violet head. “Mark my words, Carlo DiGyle, there’s going to be another war.”
“Over wood?”
The woman tucked the post into her ragged skirts, following him down an alleyway as he stalked a half-eaten pear. “Without wood, how will Jordinians light their hearths, cook their meals, warm their homes?”
“I expect they’ll have to cough up more coin for their resources,” muttered Carlo, picking up the abandoned fruit. “Which leaves even less for the likes of us.”
“Exactly,” said the woman, relieved he was finally catching on. She declined as he offered her a bite of pear, although her stomach groaned.
“But onto some real news, Bet.” The boy spoke with his mouth full. “What’s this I hear about Marten Hoste visiting Häffstrom last moon? Something about the Ducelle girl—?”
“Shh!” Bet glanced over her shoulder, fearful. “Do not say that name here. Are you mad?”
Carlo took another bite of pear.
“Besides.” She tightened the ragged shawl about her bony shoulders. “That is just a stupid rumor.”
“Heard from your daughter lately?”
Bet shook her head.
“Well, I’m off,” the lad decided. “There’s got to be an odd job somewhere in the grand capitol city of Pierma this morning.”
“No picking pockets,” Bet advised him.
Carlo grinned impishly.
The woman glanced around to ensure no one was watching before swiftly tracing a circle on his brow. “May the Eternal God bless and keep you today,” she murmured. “May you find wages to earn, bread to eat, and shelter under which to take rest this night.”
Carlo embraced her, and Bet watched her young friend round the dingy corner.
DAINY BADE THE TAILOR FAREWELL, clutching her bundle as she departed the dressmaker’s shop. “Thank you, Mac,” she sang.
At Jon’s suggestion, their mutual half-brother had exchanged his gold bars for coins, and given a bag to each of them. Dainy had finally purchased a new wardrobe, and was thrilled to no longer have to wear the pink frock and wooden shoes she’d been borrowing from Hessian Gatspierre’s maids.
Dressed comfortably at last, she made off down the narrow streets of Omar Village, arms interlinked between Mac and Jon. As they strolled, she noticed Jon studying the horizon. “What is it, my love?” she asked him.
He looked thoughtful. “The autumnal equinox cannot be far off.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “The rainy season.” She had, after all, been raised by the seashore on the coast of the Beili Dunes, and knew the equinoxes brought the rainfalls with them.
“You mean hurricanes?” Mac spoke from her other side. “Is it a bad time for sailing to the Great Continent, then?”
“Not if we leave soon.” Jon by-stepped a group of small boys as they ran past, chasing after a rolling hoop. “It’ll take nearly two moons to reach Asiotica from Häffstrom’s coast.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Dainy beamed, steering her companions through the jostling crowd as they passed an aromatic patisserie. “Why not head to the coast?”
“I daresay,” grinned Jon, appraising her. “But my little firecracker is becoming quite the adventurer.”
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