“Been waitin’ for you,” Char said. “I figured we’d go to the pumpkin and get some together once you came out.”
“No need for that,” Clemency said as she, Nick, and Saeli joined up with them. Ven noted with relief that they all still had their tokens. Clemency handed a hollowed-out gourd full of squash soup to Ven while Saeli gave one to Char. Ven inhaled the aroma. It was sweet, warm, and spicy, all at the same time.
“Thanks,” Char said gratefully. He put the gourd to his lips and drank greedily.
Ven tasted his as well. His mouth was filled with warm spices and sweetness with a hint of cream. As he swallowed, he felt the warmth spread through his body. “This is delicious.”
“If you like that, you should try some of the wares of the street vendors,” Nick said. “Especially the steak on a stake and the giant apple fritters. Come on, Ven, if you’re done with the fortune-teller, can we go around and see the sights now? I’d really like to take a ride on the griffin swings or the carousel.”
“Sure,” Ven said in between mouthfuls of soup. “Why not?”
“Well, did you get the answers to your questions?” Clemency asked as they headed back to where the rides were. “Any luck finding out about the king’s stone?”
“No,” said Ven. He tossed the empty gourd into a trash barrel and watched Char wipe his lips with the back of his sleeve. “I just discovered that there are far more questions I didn’t even know I had. And that we should stay as far as possible away from the Inner Market.”
“No lie,” agreed Nick. “If you look close just beyond the edge of the Outer Market, everything starts to look pretty shabby and drab. I can’t even imagine how run-down it must be beyond the inner gate. No need to find out, I say.”
“Me too,” said Char as they approached the ride area. “So if she didn’t tell ya anything about the stone, what did she tell ya?”
Ven stopped in the street. He looked around and, satisfied that no one was close enough to see, held out the open palm of his hand with the stain of the Time Scissors.
“I didn’t get many answers,” he said. “But I did get this.”
Nick, Saeli, Char, and Clem stared at his hand, then looked up at him.
“Got what?” Char asked.
Ven looked down. The image was still there.
“Can’t you see the picture?” he asked.
Saeli and Nick shook their heads. “Nope,” said Char.
“What picture?” Clemency asked.
Ven looked at his palm again. The image was faint, but still clear. Maybe only I can see it, he thought. That’s probably for the best.
“Step up, gentles!” the barker at the rides called out, his voice cutting through the noise of the festival. “Just a copper piece a rider!”
The friends looked over in the direction of the mythical beast rides. The beautiful young woman they saw earlier that morning was helping people onto the carousel, a flower in her hands, collecting the fares. Two burly men were pushing the griffin swings, which were twisting wildly on their ropes, high into the air amid screams of excitement. Merry music played from the carousel. The floor of the ride had lifted off the ground and was spinning high in the air.
“Come on!” Nick insisted, digging in his pockets. “I have a bunch of coppers left over from buying our entry tokens. Let’s catch a ride.”
The children scattered, each to his or her favorite wooden beast. Nick waited behind a rope gate for the wild red griffin swing while the others stood in the line for the carousel. Finally, when the current riders had cleared away, the young woman came up to the rope. Her smile was bright in the noontime sun.
“Glad to see you’re back,” she said sweetly. “A copper for the ride, please.”
Nick held out five copper pieces. “Here’s the fare for all of us,” he said, his face turning red as the woman smiled more brightly and opened her hand to him.
“You want to ride the griffin swing?” she asked, pocketing the coppers.
“Ye—yes ma’am,” Nick said awkwardly.
The young woman nodded, then took the beautiful blossom in her hand and held it under Nick’s nose.
“Do you like my flower?” she asked. Nick nodded. “Does it smell pretty?”
Nick sniffed, then nodded again. Char coughed into his fist, and Ven suppressed a chuckle. Nick had the same stupid look on his face that Char got when he was around Felitza.
The burly man in charge of the red griffin swing nodded to the woman, and she took down the rope. “You can board the griffin now,” she said. “Have a wonderful flight.”
“Thank you.” Nick scurried over to the swing and climbed into the hollow seat.
Char was next in line. “Can I ride the silver dragon on the carousel?” he asked.
“Of course,” the woman said. “Any beast you want.” She waved the flower in Char’s face as well, then stepped out of the way so he could climb onto the dragon. Then she turned to Ven. “And you, sir?”
“I think I’ll ride the winged lion, if that’s all right,” Ven said.
“Certainly,” said the woman. She held out the flower again for Ven to smell it. It was a luscious red, with soft petals and a black center.
From behind Ven’s shoulder, Clemency’s arm shot out and pushed the stem of the blossom out of the way.
“Uh, Ven, don’t do that,” she said seriously. She pushed Ven toward the carousel, then let Saeli go ahead of her.
“What’s the matter, Clem?” Ven asked as he walked over to the wooden lion with wings.
“You shouldn’t be sticking your face in herbs or flowers you don’t recognize,” Clemency answered. “The Spice Folk use flowers and herbs for all sorts of things, mostly medicines, but for mischief as well. You need to be more careful with what you breathe in.”
“You’re right, I didn’t even think about it,” said Ven as he climbed into the lion’s bejeweled saddle and took hold of the reins. “Glad you’re paying attention, Clem.”
“Someone has to,” Clem agreed. “And I’m the only house steward here, so it may as well be me.”
Smoothly, the carousel began to move, slowly gaining speed as the music grew louder and merrier. Ven held on to the lion’s mane, gripping the heavy wooden sides with his knees.
* * *
Then, suddenly, it seemed to me that the animal underneath me was running . Not spinning on a giant wooden wheel of floor, but actually leaping and bounding, its wings beating as it took to the air.
I gripped it tighter.
With a whipping spin, the carousel rose up into the air. We had seen it elevate when the last group of riders were on, but it somehow felt higher now. We soared over the trees, looking down at the bright carnival below us. It was a feeling similar to standing at the top of the mast of a ship, looking down at the endless sea and the world below you, the wind rustling your hair and clothes.
I was flying.
I never wanted to stop.
* * *
The wings of the lion beat in time to the music as the carousel spun around, thrilling Ven to the bone. He could hear the excited laughter from his friends on the carousel, and the high, wild screaming of Nick as the griffin swings were pushed higher and higher by the burly men.
After what seemed like both forever and no time at all, the rides slowed to a gentle stop. The carousel settled back onto the ground, still slowly spinning. Ven looked behind him to see Saeli’s tiny face bright with excitement, her eyes sparkling, as she climbed down from the black unicorn. Even farther back, Clem was dismounting from the sea serpent, looking equally excited.
They stepped off the rides and made their way to the other side of the ropes. Ven looked over his shoulder and stopped in alarm.
Char and Nick were bringing up the rear. Nick looked like he was going to be sick, while Char’s face was as gray as a dishrag.
“What’s the matter?” Ven asked as the girls turned around. “You guys look awful.”
“Gotta sit down,” Nick mumbled.
“Gonna yak if I don’t.”
“Here, come this way,” Clemency ordered, taking Char by the arm. He seemed to be having trouble focusing, while Nick was growing paler.
“Don’t your ears hurt, mate?” Nick asked Ven woozily. “That bloody lion of yours was roaring the whole time. My skull is ready to explode.”
“What are you talking about?” Ven asked. “The lion didn’t make any noise. You’re imagining it.”
“No more than I’m imaging my dragon was breathing fire,” Char insisted as Ven helped him sit down on a log bench near the toymaker’s booth. “I think it burnt my eyebrows off. Look.” He wiggled his forehead at Ven, who rolled his eyes.
“You’re right about that flower, Clem,” he said. “We better get these guys some water.”
“I’ll do it,” Clemency said. “The food sellers are right over past the fountain.”
“Thanks,” Ven said as Saeli sat down on the log beside Nick and began patting his hand sympathetically.
Nearby a Lirin man in brightly colored clothing was sitting, chatting with a group of children. Ven turned and watched. These were the first children he had seen since coming into the Gated City. After a moment, he realized that none of them had tokens around their necks.
These weren’t visitors, or shoppers here with their parents.
These were residents of the Thieves’ Market.
His stomach sank. The children were talking happily and excitedly among themselves as they settled down on the ground in front of the brightly clothed man.
* * *
They looked just like us, or at least like Clem and Char and Nick. They were all human, as far as I could see, though there might have been a little bit of Lirin mixed into the bloodlines here and there. Their clothes were fairly worn, but not as ratty as Char’s were.
I’m not sure what I expected kids in a city of thieves to look like. They weren’t cutting anyone’s purse, or picking anyone’s pocket. They were just sitting on the ground in a corner of the square, waiting for something magical to happen.
Just like we were.
Or would have been if Char and Nick weren’t so sick from the ride.
* * *
The man in the bright clothes took out a small wooden chest and set it in his lap. With a great flourish, he slowly opened it and waved his hand in the air above it.
Out of the chest flew what looked like many white doves. Ven covered his head, remembering the raven on Gregory’s headstone, but the doves floated up into the air at about the shoulder height of the man, in pairs. A closer look showed that they were not doves at all, but gloves.
Ven sat back on the log, intrigued.
The man looked down at the children around his feet.
“First, I believe I will recite the story of Ogre Bruce and the Magic Wheelbarrow,” he said solemnly. He turned to the gloves. “Maestro, if you please.”
The pair of gloves closest to the man swelled until they looked like hands, clapped itself, then raised up its index fingers like the conductor of an orchestra. Immediately, the other gloves scurried into position, hovering in the air. Then the first pair of gloved hands began to move, making gestures that looked like they were drawing anchors in the air.
The remaining pairs began to move in time, one as if it were playing a flute, another a violin, a third a cello. Gloves tapped out rhythms on invisible drums and strummed the air as if it were harp strings.
And as they did, from each pair of gloves came forth music, beautiful tunes in the sounds of the instruments.
Even Char and Nick looked up, entranced. But the multicolored man didn’t seem to notice. He launched into his tale, an amusing story of a well-mannered ogre and his ill-tempered wheelbarrow, much to the delight of the audience of children. All the while he was talking, the hand band was providing a musical undertone that exactly matched the action of the story.
At the end, the musical gloves swept to a big finale, then fell silent.
The audience of children applauded politely. Ven joined in, only to receive a sharp dig in the ribs from Char, who was still holding his head in pain.
“He must be a Storysinger, like McLean,” Ven murmured.
“Really?” said Char. “Ya think so? What gave it away?”
“Thank you, thank you,” the Singer said to the children. “And now we will have a Gwadd tale from the Wide Meadows across the Great River, the Sad, Strange Tale of Simeon Blowfellow and the Lost Slipper.”
Ven turned around to smile at Saeli. Instead he saw Clem, just retuned from the food sellers, holding two mugs of water. She was staring wildly at him.
“Ven,” she said, her voice brittle. “Where’s Saeli?”
12
A Prophecy Comes True
* * *
If you ever need to get rid of something in your stomach that is making you sick, have a friend ask you, in the middle of the Gated City, where another one of your friends is.
Especially a tiny, timid one who speaks in flowers.
And has no thorns.
* * *
VEN WAS ON HIS FEET IN AN INSTANT, GLANCING AROUND THE crowded market square.
“Saeli?” he shouted, turning frantically and trying to see between the bodies crowding around the booths and kiosks. “Saeli!”
A split second later, the others were doing the same, spinning to see where the tiny girl could have gone. They were shouting her name, pushing through the crowd of children, looking desperately for any sign of the Gwadd girl.
All they saw was the sea of people jamming the square, paying no attention to anything but the exotic goods for sale.
Ven stumbled into the circle of sitting children, causing the Singer’s story to grind to a sudden halt.
“Excuse me,” he gasped, “have any of you seen a little girl? She was right here—she’s about this tall—”
The children stared at him in confusion, looked at each other, then slowly shook their heads.
“Who’s missing?” the Singer asked, putting his arm around a dirty-faced little girl with stringy blond hair.
“My friend Saeli,” Ven said desperately, watching Char and Nick looking under the skirts of booths, while Clemency was trying to stop passersby, who mostly ignored her pleas. “She’s a—a Gwadd, and she—”
A look of shock crossed the man’s face.
“A Gwadd? A real Gwadd, here? In the Gated City?”
“Yes,” Ven answered, his stomach knotting in fear.
“Since when? Did she come in at the opening bell?”
“Yes,” Ven replied. “We all did.”
The Singer shook his head sadly. “Surprised she lasted this long.” He looked down at the wide-eyed faces of the children sitting on the ground below and smiled. “There’s a little girl missing, my lovelies. Her name is—Saeli?” He looked questioningly at Ven, who nodded. “Go through the streets up to the First Row, no farther, and see if you can’t find her, eh? If you do, take her hand, bring her here. You’ll know her—she doesn’t belong here.”
The children nodded and scattered.
“She was here?” the Singer asked after the children had disappeared. “In the story circle?”
By then, Nick and Clemency had joined them.
“Yes,” Nick broke in. “She was sitting right beside me. I was feelin’ kind of sick, an’ I wasn’t payin’ attention—”
“To the left of you, or the right?” the man asked.
“The left,” Nick replied.
The Singer looked around, then nodded. “Well, if she was not on the end of the bench, but inside, she must have wandered off. Good as the thieves in this market are, you would have noticed if they reached over you and dragged her away.”
“Yes,” Nick said. “I certainly think so.”
“So,” the brightly dressed man continued as Char joined them, “you need to figure out where she went, what she would have gone back to see. What caught her eye? What entranced her earlier?”
The children looked at each
other.
“Everything,” said Clemency finally. “She was excited by everything. Even the giant soup pumpkin.”
The man exhaled sharply, a look of sympathy on his face. He looked around again, as if he were following moths in flight, then reached into the air as if he were catching a few of them. He pulled the invisible strings together with his fingers, then looked back at the children again.
“Well, you know what they say when someone goes missing.” His voice had the same ring that came into McLean’s when he was speaking as a Singer instead of just as a person.
“No,” Ven said quickly. “What do they say?”
The Singer smiled.
“Better call out the dogs,” he said knowingly. Then he turned and walked away.
Ven, Char, Nick, and Clem stared after him as he left.
Then they looked at each other.
Without another word, they darted across the square to the First Row of shops, where the weaponsmaker’s store stood.
Nick reached the steps of the Arms of Coates first, Char behind him. They burst through the door, shouting as they did.
“Mr. Coates! Mr. Coates! Help, please!”
Clemency climbed up the porch just as the fabric seller next door came to her window and peered out in alarm. Ven, puffing, came up behind her.
Mr. Coates stood in the center of his shop, his hands out in front of him. The dogs stood on either side, their ears back, their teeth exposed.
“Shhhh, now, young’uns,” he said softly. “Please do me a favor and don’t come slamming into the store like that—for all our sakes.” He looked at the dogs, then at the weapons on the wall. Many of them were loaded and pointed directly at the doorway where they stood, like a trap about to be sprung.
“Sorry about that,” Ven said. “Mr. Coates, Saeli is lost in the Market.”
Mr. Coates sighed, the dark circles under his eyes deep and sad.
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