Journey's Middle

by B. K. Parent

  Now I needed to change, get something to eat, and take care of the routine chores of the morning. It would not do for me to break routine or change routine and call attention to myself. I did not know if any of the searchers from the previous night were still within the campground, still looking for the silk merchant and his niece. Once outside the homewagon, I looked to see if Master Clarisse or Evan were up and saw no activity at their site. Before a worry could form, I saw Evan coming from the direction of the pasture where our horses were turned out to graze.

  Evan called softly, “I took care of your horses too, so it is your turn to make breakfast, and I’m starving.”

  After the events of the last ten to twelve hours, this small act of normalcy on Evan’s part was so profound I almost wept. I found out later that Master Rollag had sworn Evan to secrecy, not to tell anyone about the events of the night before. He had taken it literally, so he did not tell me what had happened in town. Had he been forthcoming upon greeting me, I would have felt immensely better sooner.

  “You alright, Nissa?” Evan questioned, with a look of great concern on his face.

  I was not sure if his concern was for me or for the possibility that if something was really wrong I might not be able to make breakfast.

  “I’m fine. Just a piece of dirt flew in my eye,” I fibbed. “Will Master Clarisse be joining us, or is she going to sleep the day away?”

  “Oh, um, she stayed in town for breakfast at Master Bircholm’s house. She and Master Rollag and others were having a meeting concerning guild business. Since she had anticipated it taking awhile, she decided she would send me on ahead to attend to the chores and open the booth. Master Bircholm is known for his cook and so any meeting there is always preceded by a large elaborate meal. Apprentices were not invited, so I have to fend for myself. I sure miss Mistress Jalcones. She always had an extra plate to serve to a growing lad like me,” Evan said, in somewhat aggrieved tones, all the while looking at me with a look that was half accusation and half pleading.

  “I think you have missed your calling. Instead of being apprenticed to a glassworks master, perhaps you should have been apprenticed to the Players Guild or become a used horse trader,” I responded back. Just then Carz walked up to me, dropped a rather large rabbit at my feet, and gave me the same look that Evan had just given me. “Alright, alright, I will cook breakfast,” I said laughing, and was amazed I could do so after the night that had just been.

  Sharing a laugh with Evan did more for grounding me in the present than anything else had done. I assigned Evan the task of skinning and cleaning the rabbit while I got a small fire going and set the kettle water to boiling. The campsites around me began to stir, and as the new day began, the events of the previous night slipped to the edge of my mind; not forgotten but no longer blazing with such clarity. While the events of the night before had faded just a bit, my worries had not. How was I going to find out if Da and Beezle were safe?

  It was difficult to pretend that everything was as usual while eating breakfast with Evan, and he was unusually quiet. We cleaned up and headed off to the fair. I knew I needed to go to my booth and pretend this was just an ordinary day, but what I really wanted to do was go into town and begin a search for Da. While I knew that was my heart talking and not my head, it was still hard to sit down at my work bench, begin a project, and await the first customers.

  Master Clarisse arrived shortly and thanked Evan for opening her booth. “Sorry I am later than I thought I would be,” Master Clarisse said to Evan. An almost imperceptible look of relief flashed across her face when she saw Nissa. “After the meeting, I helped Master Rollag load several large windows onto a wagon. He is sending Journeyman Mikkel on to Snoddleton to set up a display in the Hall of Masters, and these pieces required four folks to lift and move. It took Master Rollag, Journeyman Mikkel, his driver Jonzee, and I to safely get them into the wagon. That new driver Jonzee Smed is quite nice and really knows his way around horses.” Master Clarisse then leaned over our adjoining counters and mouthed, “Play along.”

  I would have at that moment danced a jig if she had asked, so relieved was I that Da was alive and well. Maybe even a jig on the countertop. Well perhaps not. Once the momentary euphoria of knowing Da was safe passed, I began to worry about three things. What was I playing along with, why, and how would I get word to Da that I was safe? Without asking for directions, and then trying to explain why I wanted to see a driver I had just met the day before, I could not just jump up, rush into town, and try to find Master Bircholm’s house, hoping that Da and the journeyman had not left yet. Naturally, I could show concern for the man I had gone to the Inn of the Three Hares with and then had gotten separated from. I was grateful to Master Clarisse for letting me know that he was alright, but she did not know that the driver was my Da, and so would not understand my deep concern for him.

  “Evan, Master Rollag wanted you to do him a favor. Seems he has a niece in Snoddleton and wanted to send a gift on ahead to get there by her birth date. He is particularly taken with the boxes Nissa made combined with the tops I made. Really wanted one in rosewood. Do you have one of those in stock Nissa?” Master Clarisse asked.

  “Let me look,” I answered, going to my cart and looking through the boxes. “I have two.” Walking back to our adjoining counters, I handed them both to Master Clarisse. “Which one do you like best?”

  “This one, I think,” she said, indicating the box with the glass top in blues and greens. “Evan, take this to Master Rollag, as quickly as you can, for he is anxious to get Journeyman Mikkel on the road before he strolls off following a mourning dove or hears bells in the distance and rambles off to find them. As an added incentive, he said to tell you that Master Bircholm’s cook was about to pull sweet buns out of the oven. Whoa, not so fast young man,” Master Clarisse admonished, as Evan tried to snatch the box from her hand. “Let me wrap this in a bit of fabric, and you be careful as you race towards those sweet buns. One more thing.” The look on Evan’s face was a cross between resignation and impatience. “Tell Master Rollag both Nissa and I picked this box out together, so it should be just right for his niece.”

  I know I was tired, for I had not had very much sleep the night before, but my brain must have been dozing while my body pretended it was awake and alert. It took me way longer than it should have to realize that getting a present to Master Rollag for his niece’s birth date as quickly as possible was not what was important. Getting a message back to Master Rollag, and maybe one driver named Jonzee Smed, that I was at my booth was the real issue. It then finally penetrated my sluggish brain that when Master Clarisse suggested that I “play along” it was because there might be something to be concerned about connected to last night’s adventure, or someone might be very interested in our conversation.

  I surreptitiously glanced around to see if I could spot anything or anyone who might be taking more than a passing interest in our booths or conversation. That is when it occurred to me that music from our pipe player, who had been like a fixture near us since the fair opened, was missing. Beezle, oh my, I had forgotten about Beezle. He had been the pipe player, and none of us had recognized him, and now he was not in his chosen spot. Had something happened to him?

  It did not help that the morning dragged on so slowly. Every few minutes I would glance up from what I was working on to see if the pipe player was setting up his stool and hat, but then I cautioned myself to stop that. It was going to become noticeable that I was looking way too often at his spot should anyone be watching me. It was also not helping the project I was working on, so I gave it up and reached for the satchel the Huntress had given me as a gift. I did not know what to expect, so I opened it cautiously and found a book bound between two wooden covers. I had only a glimpse of the top cover before I was interrupted by a woman inquiring about one of the puzzle boxes. Then, because I wanted to get back to the contents of the satchel, th
e crowds picked up, and I was kept busy until the lunchtime lull. By then, Evan had returned and reported that the sweet buns had been delicious, and he and Jonzee had polished off a whole tray of them by themselves.

  Evan seemed quite taken with Jonzee, and I of course could understand why he might like my Da. For a moment I was quite jealous of Evan and the time he had just spent with him. Da always did have a sweet tooth, and I remembered how the heavy sweet bread that Nana made on special occasions disappeared quite fast in our house. I had had to be quick if I thought I might get even a second piece out of the first loaf Nana pulled out of the oven. I was also grateful to Evan for being the messenger who let my Da know that I was fine and was not still behind that wall of greenery. I did wonder how Da had gotten back into town, and how anyone had convinced Da not to come to the fair or back to the campground this morning to find me, but he seemed to have made it back to Master Bircholm’s safely and was now leaving town. I wanted to stand up and scream, for once again, we had been so close and yet had so little time to talk. I still had so many unanswered questions.

  The traffic began to slow as the noon hour approached and dwindled to almost nothing. Master Clarisse offered to go find some meat pies and bring them back. I once again had time to look in the satchel and was just about to remove the book when a shadow crossed my vision. I looked up to see Beezle standing in front of me.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I did not know whether I wanted to leap over the counter of my booth and hug Beezle or just hurl a chunk of wood at him. I was really glad he was fine, but I was also a little bit miffed that he had been sitting across from me for several days as a pipe player and had not let me in on his disguise. Truth be told, perhaps I was more bothered by the fact that I had not recognized him.

  “You just going to sit there with your mouth hanging open, or are you going to greet an old friend?” Beezle asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I stated. “Since we didn’t say good-bye, farewell, the last time we saw each other, I am not sure we need to say hello.”

  “Good point, but as I am sure you have surmised, I did have some rather pressing business for Uncle and needed to do a bit of traveling.”

  “Dancing to his tune were you?” I replied, enjoying the verbal sparing. “Pipe up now. You could have bearded him in his keep and demanded some time off.”

  “Ah, alas, that was my trouble.”

  “What was your trouble? Piping or bearding?”

  “Why bearding, of course. I have always had trouble with bearding, and after the close shaves of the last day or so, I think I will feel much better if I do not have to beard anything anytime again soon.”

  How long we would have continued this verbal silliness I do not know, but we were mercifully interrupted by several fairgoers stopping at the booth and asking questions about a puzzle box. I needed to pay attention. Beezle asked if he might join us for dinner at the campgrounds that night. Master Clarisse, upon hearing the request, said that would be grand, and she and Evan would even cook. Maybe then we would have a chance to talk and catch up with each other in a more straightforward manner than we had been able to do here. Trade was reasonably brisk, and the rest of the afternoon went by much more quickly than the morning had.

  Since Master Clarisse and Evan had taken on the tasks of cooking the meal, I was left with the tasks of caring for the horses and hauling wood, plus other incidental chores that come with daily living in a campground. Carz accompanied me to the pasture where the horses were grazing, and I was glad of his company, for I knew I would need to enter the woods after my chores with the horses were done. The idea of entering the woods left me with a small feeling of trepidation after my adventures of the previous night. While the Huntress and I had parted on good terms, I felt it was only prudent to continue to be wary of someone who had once thought nothing of killing me.

  As I stepped into the shade of the forest, I noticed that it no longer felt hostile to me. It made me wish I had both the time and the courage to venture further in to see if I could find the Huntress’ clearing and see if the quirrelit seed had sprouted, but that would have been a silly thing to try to do. After all, we had just planted the seed the night before, so it surely would not have sent a shoot up this day.

  With all of the folks camped near the forest’s edge needing wood for their cook fires, I knew I would need to venture a bit further in to find downed wood, so I was surprised when I found a nice pile of stacked wood just a bit inside the forest’s edge. I would have walked by it, thinking it must have been gathered and stacked by someone who had a campsite close to mine, if it had not been for the hunting cat that slipped out from behind the back of the pile where it had been laying. Carz moved forward and touched noses with the hunting cat, and then the two of them began pawing the small pile of wood, knocking it towards me. It did not take getting the entire pile of wood knocked onto my feet for me to know the wood was for me. I recognized the hunting cat as one I had met before, and so I bowed to it slightly. I cannot quite tell you why, but it seemed a good idea at the time, and I said “Please thank your mistress for the wood.”

  After several trips, I had moved the wood out of the forest and under my homewagon, for the sky above was beginning to cloud up, and the air smelled of rain. We now had more than enough wood for the evening meal, breakfast, and to leave a bit behind for the next folks to use the campsite. By the time I had finished my chores, Master Clarisse and Evan had a stew bubbling over the coals, which was making my mouth water and my stomach growl. I was beginning to worry a bit, for Beezle had not yet arrived. Master Clarisse must have noticed my worried look, for she quickly reassured me that Beezle would be along shortly.

  “He said he wanted to stop by the bakery in town to pick up some supplies for the road. Ah, there he is now,” she said.

  I turned and glanced over my shoulder. He was indeed almost to our campsite, and Evan and I both jumped up to help him for he had his arms full of items.

  “Thanks,” Beezle said, in a muffled voice, for his face was buried behind a stack of bags and packages wrapped in cloth. Once we had relieved him of all his packages, he went on. “Aunt is leaving this day, as is her hostess, and they were closing down the house. She sent me with the food items she thought might perish soon, plus some supplies that I might contribute to communal meals, that is, if you will let me join back up with your merry band. It seems Uncle wants me to head on to the Snoddleton fair. Uncle sent word that he is shipping some of our cheese to Snoddleton, and I am to set up a booth to acquaint fairgoers with our fine product. You will be delighted to know that the Jalcones are the ones bringing the cheese to Snoddleton. Seems they stopped by Glendalen Keep midweek. They had had some trouble with their wagon and came back to get help with the repairs. Uncle was delighted they were heading this way and had room for our goods.”

  I was not sure which I was more excited about, that Beezle was going to accompany us to the next fair or that the Jalcones would be there too. I had missed all three of them this past week. I was now anxious to get on the road, but there was one more day of the Crestbury fair to get through before we broke camp and headed out. After dinner was eaten and cleared away, Evan went off with Beezle to fetch Beezle’s horse and gear while Master Clarisse and I finished cleaning up. To save ourselves time, we began packing up those items we would not need the next day. We had determined over dinner that we wanted to be on the road shortly after the fair closed. The Crestbury fair closed at noon, and if we could get everything packed and hitched up, we would have a good five or so hours of travel time before we needed to stop for the night. According to Master Clarisse, the Snoddleton fair had limited good places to camp, and we wanted to beat the rush by leaving tomorrow instead of waiting for the following morning.

  As we worked, Master Clarisse was able to fill me in on what had happened to Da and Beezle the previous night. I think I am glad I did not know what was h
appening to either of them while I was spending time with the Huntress. I opened my mouth to tell Master Clarisse about what had happened to me and found myself editing what I told her. I did not mention the part about the Huntress wanting to kill me, and I did not describe the ritual concerning the planting of a quirrelit tree, nor did I mention Neebings. That left me scrambling for an explanation of what had happened. I must have told a mostly credible story for Master Clarisse seemed to accept what I disclosed to her.

  We were about to help Beezle pitch his tent and get his belongings under cover when a light mist began to fall and the rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, drawing closer with each passing minute.

  “This rain is going to be a gully washer,” Evan stated. “I wonder if we might want to move the horses in and tie them to a line stretched between those two big trees behind your homewagon Nissa.”

  I trusted Evan’s judgment when it came to the horses, and so we set about getting them. Evan, Beezle, and Master Clarisse went off to bring the horses back, and I set about tying a line between the trees. By the time they returned, the wind had picked up, and the thunder had gotten louder.

  “I think we need to lash down the tents before this storm really hits,” said Master Clarisse. “Evan, come help me move our wagon to the other side of the tents to provide a bit of a windbreak. Once we have it in place, we need to move anything we don’t want soaked into the wagon.”

  “Instead of doing that, why don’t you pack everything up except your sleeping gear and move into my homewagon for the night? That way, if this storm is as bad as it sounds, not everything will be soaked,” I suggested.

  “Good idea, and thanks,” replied Beezle.