Monty pushed to his feet. “Well, lucky for you, I have connections. I think Barb’s looking for someone and with my endorsement -“ he snapped his fingers “- you’ll be like in. I’ve known her forever, after all.”
Forever. She was then in the company of an immortal - if not under his protection - and undoubtedly going to meet another one.
Monty grinned and Viviane smiled back. “Then, we must seek out this Barb with all haste and beg her indulgence.”
“Absolutely. Hey, look, I like rode my bike out here. You mind walking back to Ganges? It’s about three miles.”
Viviane could not imagine how else one would travel such a small distance. “A pittance.” She shrugged and watched Monty retrieve a two wheeled contraption from the edge of the woods.
“Great, then let’s go, man.”
Man? Viviane lifted her nose in the air as she marched to his side, knowing no one with eyes in their head could have doubts as to her gender. She itched to correct Monty, but was still leery of his magical powers.
With an effort, she kept her tone carefully neutral. “Although I appreciate your aid in this, Monty, I do not understand that you refer to me as a man.”
Monty laughed as though she were the wittiest jester in the archbishop’s own court. “Hey, there’s not a doubt in my mind which team you play on.” He eased closer to her as they matched steps. “Which is like a nice little segue into what I’d like to talk about while we walk.”
Viviane met his gaze and didn’t trust the light in his eyes. “Aye?” she said cautiously.
“Aye,” he echoed and grinned in a most cocksure manner. “How about dinner?”
“And what of it?” Viviane frowned as they started down the dirt road. “I am hungered each and every evening, as any person of good health must be.”
Monty roared with laughter. “Man, you are really something else.” She fired a glance his way that sobered him. “What I meant is, would you have dinner with me?”
From his manner, Viviane guessed that this was a matter of import, though she could not fathom why. She supposed ’twas a concession that they were not to be adversaries, for ’twas vulgar to break bread with one’s enemy.
But they had already shaken hands. And indeed, if she was without coin and patron, how else might she ensure that she ate at all?
“I should be honored.”
“Great!” Monty fairly bounced along the road. He was a most odd man, in Viviane’s eyes, all lean limbs like a young boy, yet his visage showed the passage of some years.
But then, what did one expect of sorcerors? Wise eyes and a youthful visage, if naught else. Perhaps a measure of eccentricity and a tendency to laugh.
Monty more than fit the description.
“There’s a terrific vegan place in the village - they have a pad thai that is like awesome-licious…”
His words so quickly made no sense to Viviane that she let her thoughts wander as they walked, her gaze dancing over the beautiful pines lining the curving road. She heard seabirds calling overhead and turned to watch them, quietly marveling. She raised one hand to brush her fingertips across her pendant, as she was inclined to do.
’Twas only then that Viviane realized that the moonstone pendant was gone.
Panic flicked through her, for Viviane was not one to lose anything, certainly not anything she held as precious. She spun and darted back along the road, ignoring Monty’s cries.
But there was naught on the path where she had first arrived.
Viviane’s pendant was gone.
Although it could have taken no small magic to wring such a great change in her circumstance. Perhaps the very act of making her wish had wrought the pendant’s destruction. Perhaps it was a gift intended to save her hide but once.
Indeed, if she kept her wits about her, that should suffice.
She smiled for a puzzled Monty and returned to his side, mumbling some excuse that seemed to put his concern at ease. Moments later, they rounded a curve in the road and Viviane spied the crescent of the moon riding high in the midday sky. It looked like a sliver of silver hanging there, the shape of it reminding her of the light that had danced within her pendant.
Perhaps her gift from her father had become one with the moon again. Viviane smiled secretly, rather liking the idea of that.
*
Monty teased Viviane as they walked that she was ‘rubbernecking something fierce’ but she could not help staring at the town they eventually entered. Avalon was so different from anything she had ever seen before, each glance filled with inexplicable wonders. The people were of every hue it seemed, their garb of every shape and description, their words impossible to catch in the wind.
Some whizzed about on “bicycles” like that of Monty, their heads encased in brilliantly hued helmets and their garb tight. Some rode four-wheeled carts of every shape and color which evidently had no need of either oxen or horses, and made a fearsome noise as they passed. It was all very strange yet they all took it in stride.
Viviane was clearly beyond the beyond.
Barb owned a shop perched on the edge of Ganges Harbor. It was painted in vivid hues that made Viviane feel more at home than anything else thus far, the columns on the porch brightly patterned in green and blue and yellow. There were flowers growing in front of the house and little plants tangled alongside the path, an orange cat sitting in the sun on the porch as it cleaned its paws.
Yet the true marvel of this day of marvels proved to be the contents of Barb’s shop. Unlike the merchants’ stalls to which Viviane was accustomed, in which a counter was opened on one wall of a workshop, the potential client actually entered Barb’s shop. And there, that client was confronted by a wondrous array of books for sale.
Books! The single word did not do them justice. These manuscripts were unlike anything Viviane had seen before. Some were filled with text and others contained marvelous colored pictures of lifelike detail. And the quantity of them!
Indeed, Viviane knew with unshakable certainty that such books could only exist in a magical domain. Her conviction that she had arrived in Avalon took root and blossomed tenfold. For she already knew that Avalon was a place of learning and wisdom - it made only good sense that ’twould be rife with the most wondrous books she had ever seen.
And one would have to be immortal to even begin to read them all.
Aye, Viviane hoped that she too might have eternity in this place! The very walls were filled with crowded shelves, that alone telling Viviane that this Barb was a wealthy woman indeed. How else could she have afforded such largesse, even here?
How else could she so graciously admit strangers to finger the manuscripts that comprised her wealth?
Viviane cringed at the casual air of one woman in the shop as she rifled through a volume filled with wondrous illustrations of food. Even from this distance, the dishes looked real and Viviane knew that single volume must be worth a king’s ransom. Barb must have so much coin to her name - a veritable duchess or queen! - for the damage inevitable from such careless handling to mean naught to her.
Or she might be a sorceress of untold power. This interview might prove to be Viviane’s true test. Her mouth went dry at the thought.
To be certain, Barb was not dressed in the fine garb Viviane might have expected - she wore no samite nor ermine, no silk nor expensive hues. Surprisingly enough, she wore chausses of faded blue, and a dark green chemise all of a piece with a hood. She had snatched her long dark hair up in a band - no doubt to keep those long tresses from wreaking havoc all the day long - and her feet were bare, although her gold-rimmed spectacles were another unmistakable sign of affluence.
’Twas not uncommon, Viviane knew, for people of means to adopt odd habits or styles of dress. Both Monty and the other occupants of Avalon Viviane had already seen certainly challenged her ideas of appropriate apparel.
This Barb had skin the hue of honey, another marvel, and her eyes were narrow and dark. Viviane had never seen such s
trange and exotic features, and she tried not to gape. Certain ’twas appropriate, she bowed deeply upon making Barb’s acquaintance.
Barb and Monty seemed to find this amusing.
“She’s like got this fourteenth century thing going,” Monty whispered, though his words were loud enough to be audible to all.
More than once in all her days, Viviane’s tendency to idle chatter had been her ruin. She recognized that Monty had brought her to a potential patron and bit back any reply that she might have made. She clasped her hands together, met Barb’s gaze steadily and let Monty explain.
Though it nigh killed her.
“But, you see, the real deal is she’s stranded here at this medieval fair, waiting on royalties from her publisher.”
“Without a return ticket?” Barb asked skeptically.
“Hey, I can hardly criticize poor financial planning.”
Barb rolled her eyes at that.
“And like who wouldn’t want to be stranded here, it’s a great place to work. You know it can take forever for publishers to ante up…”
“I’ve heard you whine about it often enough,” Barb acknowledged. “Though they don’t seem to have the same casual manner with their billing.”
“See? Capitalists! All those suits in Toronto…”
“Monty, spare us the lecture,” Barb chided softly. “What do you want?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked more like a child begging a favor than he had thus far. Clearly Barb was his superior in terms of power and influence. “Viviane needs a job. I thought you said you needed someone in the shop.”
Barb’s lips pursed and she pushed her spectacles up her nose as she looked hard at Viviane. “What do you write?”
Monty did not seem inclined to answer that one, but turned to Viviane in turn, his lean face alight with curiosity.
Viviane swallowed and tried her best to not make a muddle of matters. “Romances, tales of chivalry and knights and quests afar.” She did not trust herself to say any more, for she truly did not understand this matter of publishers.
It must be some fabrication of the realm she had entered - but surely knowledge of great tales of chivalry would win her some favor here? Viviane could only hope!
To Viviane’s relief, understanding dawned on Barb’s features. “Right! They sell really well.” She gestured to one wall, the myriad books there adorned with colorful pictures and flowing type. For the thousandth time that day, Viviane fought the urge to stare.
“All right,” Barb continued with a nod of resolve. “Look, here’s the deal. You seem like a nice enough person, a bit down on your luck, but that’s how a lot of people end up here. Since romance pretty much pays my rent -“ she smiled fleetingly “- let’s call this one good deed for another. Think you can watch the shop?”
Viviane glanced to either side. The shop did not look inclined to do anything unexpected, though one could not take appearances for granted when one mingled with sorcerors. “Aye,” she agreed cautiously.
“I can show you the cash and credit card stuff in a few minutes. Six bucks an hour is about the best I can do, but you’re free to read when it’s not busy or even work on your writing. How’s that?”
Viviane parted her lips, prepared to accept whatever terms were offered, even fall on her knees in gratitude, but Monty interjected. “Come on, Barb! Go to like at least seven. She’s gotta get a place to live.”
Barb folded her arms across her chest. “Off-season’s practically here. The rents will get cheap.”
“Right. And you’ll give her less hours when business slacks off.” Monty rolled his eyes. “Come on, give her a break.”
“Six is it,” Barb maintained with a resolve Viviane was already beginning to associate with her. She fixed a bright glance on Viviane that made that woman straighten. “But you can have the room over the store for two hundred dollars a month if you help me clean it out. Separate entrance.” She put out her hand. “I’ll need a deposit. One month’s rent.”
“Barb! She’s like outta cash!”
The woman looked skeptical. “I’m supposed to grant a complete strangers a room in my house and a job in my shop with no show of good faith on her part? I don’t think so. Maybe you ought to ease up on the homegrown, Monty.”
Viviane had no idea what she meant but her companion colored. “So, like, give her an advance on her wages.”
“On the basis of your sterling endorsement?” Barb folded her arms across her chest, her expression telling.
Monty swore – though the words were unfamiliar to Viviane, their meaning was more than clear. He dug in his pocket and came up with some brightly colored parchment. “Here’s fifty bucks. My life savings. And if I can bend a bit for Viviane, then so can you. You’re already like taking advantage of her on the wage.”
Viviane understood that this was their currency, by Monty’s manner and Barb’s attempt to take it from his hand.
But he snatched it back. “Utilities included?” Monty prompted.
“What are you, her agent?” Barb demanded more sharply than she had spoken thus far. “I’m not made of money, you know. Season’s nearly over, sales are going to go down the drain.”
“But Christmas is coming, every retailer’s dream…” Monty teased.
Barb folded her arms across her chest again and glared at Monty. “She’s not supposed to live off this wage, just be getting by until she gets paid. That’s the best I can do – otherwise I’ll just hire one of the local kids.”
“I think it is most generous,” Viviane interjected hastily, her years of trade telling her that the deal was on the verge of collapse. Goodness knew, even the most wealthy patron could become testy if their largesse was assumed to be boundless.
Monty parted with his parchment with obvious reluctance and Viviane knew she would have to repay his generosity.
“By Goddess, it’s even real,” Barb muttered.
“Thank you very much.” Monty’s manner turned haughty.
Viviane moved quickly to ensure the arrangement did not falter at this point. “I should be delighted to aid you in clearing the room above.”
Barb surveyed her appraisingly. “Hmm, well, I’ve been meaning to drag a lot of that stuff down to one of the charities. Anything you can use, feel free to make your own. You don’t seem to have a lot of baggage” – she punctuated that with a glance to Monty and fingered the parchment – “and there are some old clothes up there that might fit.”
Viviane bowed so low that her nose nearly touched her toes. “I am overwhelmed by your generosity and shall ensure that you find no disappointment with my services.”
“One of those medieval freaks, eh?” Barb mused when Viviane straightened. “Well, maybe it’ll bring in business. Check the section when you have a chance and let me know if there’s anything in particular your friends might like. Can you start today?”
“Your wish is my command,” Viviane acknowledged with another bow, her move making her miss Barb’s fleeting smile.
“But she has a dinner date,” Monty insisted, then grinned rakishly for Viviane. “I’ll meet you here at seven.”
*
The Gulf Islands are sprinkled between the east coast of Vancouver Island and the west coast of British Columbia. The largest of those islands, Salt Spring, has a considerable reputation as a haven from urban hassles, an enclave of artists and artisans, a destination for meandering sailboats. Although Salt Spring was originally settled because of the comparatively low price for the land – thus making settlement there an option for various Australians, ex-slaves and other adventurers – those days of economical real estate and comparative seclusion are long gone.
Viviane was not the first to believe she had discovered paradise the moment she set foot on Salt Spring’s shores. The island has been ‘discovered’ by tourism, a fact that had driven its population to an all-time high, its privacy (and water table) to an all-time low and generally created stress where once there had been
virtually none. In this case, the island’s unique distinction in the Gulf Islands of having three harbors – all with regular ferry service – has proven to be its bane.
It’s just too easy, in the opinion of many, to get there.
And so, Salt Spring Island finds itself in the midst of a battle familiar to ‘discoveries’ – that of striking a balance between the soul-pleasing pleasures of privacy and the earthly delights of a robust local economy.
Ganges, Salt Spring’s main town, is a bustling haven of activity, particularly in the summer. The ferry from the B.C. mainland stops here, disgorging tourists, bicyclists and locals returning from shopping sprees in Vancouver. Ganges’ harbor for visiting and resident sailboats is the largest on the island, and thus similarly busy. Restaurants, coffee shops, bakeries and art stores abound.
One of the benefits to Viviane of this constant influx of people was that no one paid much attention to her arrival, nor even was interested in learning precisely how she had arrived. The population mix on the island, and the many eccentricities among those individuals, also ensured that no one cared about whatever Monty meant by her “fourteenth century thing”. On Salt Spring, it not only takes all kinds – most of them are already there.
Indeed, it was rather startling to discover how well she fit right in. Viviane marked this to the incredible tolerance of those wise beings deemed worthy enough to populate the mythic wonderland of Avalon.
The obvious wealth might have been surprising to another, but Viviane expected nothing short of perfection from the fabled island of which she had so often written. With each passing day, she was more convinced of her conclusion. Avalon this was and Avalon ’twould eternally be.
As Monty was teaching her to say, Viviane had lucked out.
And by the end of her first week in this island paradise, Viviane had developed a plan. Her primary objective was to do naught that might prompt questions, or even worse, lead to her expulsion back to where she had come. After all, any fool knew that powerful sorcerors and immortals could be testy and the archbishop had no plans for Viviane that she shared.
Time Travel Romances Boxed Set Page 72