Tales of the Dragon's Bard, Volume 1: Eventide

by Hickman, Tracy

  Xander did not disappoint. As the pixies swept into town from the road to Meade, Xander stood his ground in Trader’s Square, his knapsack at his feet. He reached down and pulled out what appeared to be the long horn of a steer that had been polished, its large end stopped with a bright brass plug. A fipple notch was cut at the back, wide end, with holes made down the length of the horn. Ariela flitted about, informing everyone that it was called a gemshorn even as Xander raised the instrument to his lips.

  Xander blew softly into the flibble of the gemshorn, his thick fingers dancing along the length of the instrument. A soft, haunting tone came out, forming a simple, repeating melody with its rising and falling notes.

  To the astonishment of the townspeople, the pixies flew directly at him and then settled into an undulating circle drifting above his head. As more pixies joined the circle, it grew larger and split into two, then three smaller circles of pixies all dancing about Xander’s head.

  Xander slowly moved toward one of the streetlamps that stood at the edge of Trader’s Square. Iron frames forged by Beulandreus Dudgeon each held a thick storm lantern glass with an oil reservoir base and a wick. One side of the glass was hinged and held closed with a catch. Xander, still playing the gemshorn with one hand, reached up to the first lamp, opened the catch, and pointed inside.

  To everyone’s amazement, several of the pixies flew directly into the lamp housing, whereupon Xander flipped closed the glass and secured the latch. The trapped pixies suddenly blazed with a light far brighter than the oil flame the lantern normally contained. Xander continued from lamp to lamp around Trader’s Square and then crossed the bridge to Charter Square, the remaining pixies circling his head until he had put the last four of them together in a lamp housing and latched it shut.

  In the bright, pixie-illuminated square, the townsfolk cheered for Xander and his marvelous ability to deal with the pixie menace. As their previous constable had gone in search of the highwayman Dirk Gallowglass and had never returned, Xander was offered the job of Constable Pro Tempore—a temporary appointment until the missing constable was found. He could take the pay for both the constable and the lamplighter position at the same time, since the town was grateful to him for ending the menace and everyone very much liked the brighter lights the now-secure pixies provided each night.

  Xander accepted at once and, as a result, had been the temporary constable in the town for the last eight years.

  As to the shining light of the trapped pixies, Ariela explained to all the ladies of Cobblestone Street that it was no doubt a result of their anger at having been tricked themselves. Everyone who lived in Eventide knew that pixies were thieves, scoundrels, and liars who could not be believed even if you were to deign speak with them.

  But a visitor to the town who might not be immediately familiar with this history might, late at night and alone, find himself in conversation with a lamppost in a remote corner of the square. If such a person were to engage the pixies in the lamp, he might be told that pixies actually prefer being in the lamps. The pixies might tell a person that from their protected glass perches in the lamps, they find watching and listening to the townspeople below them better than any other entertainment. They might inform such an unsuspecting individual that no one ever thinks that a lamppost might be watching or listening to everything near it or that one can learn a lot by being a lamppost.

  But, as most everyone in Eventide knows, pixies are liars.

  “Merinda?” Livinia Walters called out. “Helloo! Merinda?”

  Merinda Oakman managed somehow to lift her heavy head. It was well after dark. She longed for the day to be over but somehow just could not imagine it ever coming to a conclusion. She eyed the door to her shop with longing. She had been so close with her burden of cloth and ribbons she had just bartered from Charon’s Goods next door. A few more steps and she would have safely been inside and not have to face Livinia or the prospect of conversation. Yet it could not be avoided now.

  “Good evening, Livinia,” Merinda said, taking another step toward the door.

  “Have you heard the news?” Livinia said, stepping deliberately in front of Merinda and blocking her escape.

  Merinda sighed, looking up through bleary eyes. She asked the question less out of curiosity than out of a desire to move things along. “What news?”

  “Duke Hareld, third cousin once removed to the king himself, will be celebrating his Spring Revels right here in Eventide!” Livinia was a tall woman, which allowed her the luxury of looking down on every other woman in the town. As the wife of Jep Walters—town cooper and guildmaster—she considered herself the patroness and first lady of the town. She had fine high cheekbones and arched eyebrows over brown eyes. Her mouth was small, with perpetually pursed lips. Her nose was upturned, although Merinda often wondered if this should be attributed to nature or demeanor. She wore an elegant, fox-trimmed coat and a tall fur hat against the chill night air. The snows had largely vanished in the warming days, but the evenings remained cold.

  “The third cousin to the king?” Merinda was having trouble understanding as she shifted the cumbersome fabric in her arms.

  “Once removed,” Livinia corrected. “He is the descendant of the king’s great-great-grandfather on his father’s mother’s mother’s father’s side through Dora of Ethandria . . . she married that brother of the despot . . . oh, why can I never remember his name! You know the one. Anyway, he’ll be here for Revels tomorrow and that can only mean he’ll bring ever so many more people into our town!”

  Merinda only nodded. She had heard the same rumor from the Gossip Fairy earlier in the day and had immediately discounted it. Ariela was always exaggerating, and even if this duke-once-removed somehow miraculously showed up, it would not change her problem. “That is good news! Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “It is more than good news!” Livinia insisted, still blocking Merinda’s escape. “We’ve been preparing for months for these Revels! Much of our town’s future depends upon this occasion, and with the blessing of someone in the royal house—”

  “Livinia, Duke Hareld is not even allowed at court,” Merinda said tiredly. “The only reason we even know who he is is because he’s had to move from town to town ahead of any number of debts or women to whom he owes more than a debt. If he shows up, it can hardly be to the town’s credit.”

  Livinia affected a shocked look. “Why, Merinda! That’s not like you one bit! I thought you were excited for the Revels to begin!”

  Merinda wished she could get away. “I am. It’s just . . .”

  “Just what, dear?”

  “Harv’s not back,” Merinda answered in a rush. Maybe if she got it all out it would give Livinia enough to think about that she could end the conversation. “He was supposed to return from Welston with all my finishing supplies—ribbons, lace, and those fashionable small feathers from the East. The basic hats are made, but he hasn’t come with the new trims. I’ve got piles of old stuff in the storeroom, but I’d just die if I had to show outdated notions to the fashionable women from town. Harv should have been here a week ago. He’s never missed Revels before. I’ve been so upset. I haven’t been able to trim my hats, and now the Revels are starting tomorrow and I just don’t have enough fashionable findings to finish. I’m in real trouble, Liv.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Meri,” Livinia said with the smile of someone who can appreciate trouble when it is not her own. “But I’m sure it will all work out for the best.”

  “I only wish Harv were back,” Merinda said, tears welling up unbidden in her eyes. “I could really use some help—”

  “Oh, look how late it has gotten,” Livinia said at once, suddenly rushing past the milliner and launching across Charter Square toward her home above the cooperage. “My Jep will be wondering where I have been. Best of luck to you, Merinda, and I hope we’ll be seeing you at the Revels Dance tomorrow night!”

  Merinda stared at the back of the rapidly retreating Livinia. “Than
ks, Liv, for all your help,” she said meekly. She turned and took her final steps to the door of her shop, wiped a tear from her eye, and turned the key in the lock.

  As Merinda entered her shop, three pixies stared down from the lamppost above her.

  “Have you been hearing that, Glix?” said one of the pixies.

  “I have indeed, Snix,” the pixie replied. “Merinda’s asking for help, and who is there about to give it to her?”

  “Who indeed?” Plix smiled. “But she’s a bit twitchy, friend Merinda. You figure she’ll let us in?”

  “Actually, I was thinking this would be better as a surprise than an actual association. Dix! You got any of that magic snooze booze about?”

  Dix closed one eye as he thought. “That I have, Glix! You ciphering a plan?”

  “Gather the clan, boys,” Glix grinned. “We’re paying a debt tonight!”

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Merinda tossed the hat in her hands down at her worktable.

  “Who is it?” she called out.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Exhausted, Merinda got up slowly from her chair and walked into the kitchen. Who could possibly be at her door at this time of night? It could only be bad news. She grabbed a poker iron from the hearth as a precaution. She did not really know what she would do with it if there were some highwayman at the door, but holding it made her feel better. “I’m coming!”

  She drew back the poker and opened the door.

  Standing on her stoop was a single small pixie, its hands folded behind its back.

  It was the last thing she remembered that night.

  Merinda was staring at the ceiling of her kitchen.

  She could not remember how she had gotten there or why she should be sleeping on the hard floor. She was still wearing yesterday’s dress. Merinda lay still for a few moments, wondering why there was a knocking at her kitchen door and why would it be so insistent.

  Knocking? At this time of the—

  Bright sunlight was streaming through her kitchen windows.

  Merinda sat up at once and immediately regretted it. Her head was throbbing with a sudden and terrible headache that seemed to center behind both her eyes, a pain that pulsed to the banging on her door.

  “Missus Oakman?” came the muffled voice beyond the door.

  Merinda held one hand against her forehead while she staggered carefully to her feet. “Who is it?”

  “Jarod, ma’am,” came the youthful voice. “Jarod Klum.”

  Merinda opened the door. The morning sun shone through a bright blue sky as it crested just above the storage sheds and buildings east across her husband’s work yard. A gaggle of grey geese were honking in the yard but there was another, rushing sound that filled the air from west down the alley. Most of her vision, however, was filled with the lanky frame of Ward Klum’s apprentice son.

  “Jarod, of course,” the milliner said as she blinked at the brilliance behind the young man. “What brings you here so early?”

  “Early?” Jarod puzzled. “Missus Oakman, it’s past midmorning now.”

  “What?” Merinda squawked.

  “I came to get my hat—the one I ordered?” Jarod suggested, eyeing the milliner with concern. “Oh, please tell me you remembered! If you didn’t, I just don’t know what I’ll do!”

  “It’s all right, Jarod.” The morning air was helping to clear her head. She was beginning to feel as though she might recover her faculties. “Of course, I remembered your hat—your quest hat, as I recall. Come on in and I’ll get it for you.”

  Jarod followed Merinda into the kitchen. “I’m sorry to bother you, Missus Oakman, but I tried the front door and it was still locked. There’s quite a crowd out there right now waiting for you to open your shop, so I thought I might try your kitchen door. I hope that’s all right.”

  Merinda gripped the edge of the table for a moment to steady herself. When the room stopped moving she continued through the door into her workroom space, waving for Jarod to follow. “Come. Your hat is out front.”

  Merinda stepped through the second door and into her shop.

  What happened next remains a matter of lengthy and unsettled debate among the people of Eventide. Some say that Merinda’s scream was heard only as far south as the tannery, while others maintain, by careful time calculations and accounts of witnesses, that it was heard as far as the docks of Blackshore. A few assert that it was Jarod who screamed, but these statements were largely accredited to those who were jealous of his having been on hand for the event. Some added that Merinda fainted at the sight that greeted her as she stepped into the shop. Still others—Jarod Klum among them—maintain that Merinda did not faint but after uttering her unnatural shriek stood shaking violently for several moments before Jarod could get her to respond.

  “Missus Oakman!” Jarod was shouting. “What is it?”

  Her mind, knotted at the sight that greeted her, suddenly unraveled into a torrent of words that were indistinguishable until they collapsed into a stuttering series of “My hats! My hats! I didn’t . . . I mean, who could have possibly . . .”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Those pixies . . . they’ve ruined me! Ruined my life! My hopes! Everything!”

  Her shop was filled with hats, floor to ceiling, of the most hideous, gaudy, and downright frightening design. It was as though the contents of her entire inventory of out-of-date and out-of-fashion materials, along with quite a few of her husband’s woodcraft hardware pieces and many of her kitchen tools, had been emptied into the room and then arranged on her hats in the most unimaginable forms. Hats shaped like boats, complete with sails and full rigging, plying green tulle seas that rocked back and forth at the crown. Hats shaped into tall willows with fronds hanging past the brim, each one filled with bells. Hats with cartwheels attached to rotate at the crown with flowers dangling from their rims. Bonnets with blue-linen waterfalls shaped down the back. Hats with a great hole in the crown and a brim of enormous yellow petals forming a sunflower out of the wearers’ head. Hats with shaped glass casting rainbows in the sunlight. Hats formed with wired buckram into the shape of her own shop, complete with a miniature sign hanging off the front. Hats—every one—mixing colors and forms that had no reason for being together.

  Jarod, whose fashion sense about hats had already been demonstrably lacking, said, “Shall I open the door?”

  “NO!” Merinda screeched.

  “But they’re all waiting,” Jarod said.

  Merinda looked through the glass in the front of her shop. A sea of faces stared expectantly back at her.

  “I can’t! I just . . . I’ll explain that there’s been an accident in the shop and that we . . . we regret that we cannot open today.” Merinda stepped to the door, unlocking it. “I’m sure they’ll understand if I—”

  She never got to open the door. The crowd took the sound of the latch to be permission and pushed open the door, pressing Merinda and Jarod both to seek refuge behind the counter.

  “Please, everyone, may I have your attention . . .”

  The throng was unwilling to give her any attention, being distracted by the ridiculous hats.

  Merinda tried again. “Please! I have something to say!”

  Unexpectedly, the crowd filling her showroom parted. A woman wearing a deep blue velvet dress fitted with diamonds walked into the shop.

  Merinda gasped. She recognized the woman immediately, though she had only ever seen her once from a distance during one of her fall trips to Mordale. She knew her as the Lady of Lorem Street—that avenue in Mordale where all the finest milliners plied their trade. She was a legendary beauty, with bards falling over themselves to compose tunes to her praise. Her attendance at court was never questioned. She was the confidante of Princess Aerthia and Queen Nance. Hats were all the rage in Mordale among the women, and every woman in the King’s City—including the Queen—looked to the Lady of Lorem Street to know what they should wear.

  Merinda st
ood frozen in her own nightmare as the Lady of Lorem Street walked directly through the crowd toward her.

  “Are you the proprietress of this shop?” said the Lady in a deep, soft voice.

  “I am, dear Lady,” Merinda heard herself saying.

  The Lady of Lorem Street smiled. “May I see that hat?”

  Merinda reached back behind her, taking one of the bizarre creations off the shelf and handing to the Lady.

  “Is this a teapot used for the crown?” the Lady asked.

  “Yes, dear Lady,” Merinda answered, her hands gripped together in front of her so tightly that the color was forced out of them. It had been her best teapot, a blue and white china piece that Harv had bought for her three years ago on a trip to Blackshore.

  “And these long feathers sticking out from the spout,” the Lady continued. “They look like a stream of colorful pouring tea. Tell me, do you wear it with the feathers facing front or down the back?”

  Merinda considered answering truthfully for a moment by saying it would look ridiculous either way, but instead answered, “As you wish, dear Lady.”

  The Lady of Lorem Street pursed her lips in thought, then gestured with her hand to another hat. “And what of that one there?”

  Merinda braced herself and turned. It was a conical hat on first impression, but then she noticed the cone was made up entirely of ribbons hanging from a central wooden dowel and spaced around a circular block. The ribbons hung down even farther beyond the block, ending with tassels and small pipes like chimes. The skullcap itself underneath had long ribbons to tie the entire assembly to the head. It made no sense to her when she picked it up, but as she turned to hand it to the Lady, the circular block rotated, winding the ribbons around the dowel as it spun.