by B. K. Parent
Evan was pulled back to the present when Clare announced, “All ready. Here is your sample, and I really want to know what you think.” She handed Evan a square of flaky pastry.
Evan took one bite, and the flavors of honey, nuts, and berry preserves melted in his mouth. While Clare waited anxiously for him to speak, Evan took his time savoring each bite. He did not speak until he had licked his fingers to get every last crumb.
“It’s pretty good.”
“Just pretty good,” Clare remarked, swatting Evan on the arm.
“Actually, now that you have my attention,” Evan said while rubbing his arm, “on second thought, it’s really wonderful, Clare. Any chance at seconds?”
“No, and we had best be off for I want to get to the judging pavilions and see the other entries.”
Evan and Clare walked companionably side by side and took in the sights, sounds, and smells whirling around them. They stopped here and there to sample baked goods and then spent time going from pavilion to pavilion to look at the entries. Clare was especially interested in the area set up for the apprentices’ entries and tried to compare her pastry with the others. Evan thought that if anyone tasted Clare’s, she would obviously win hands down.
Suddenly the pavilion began filling up with royal guards. Evan, Clare, and others were asked to move to the edge of the pavilion and make way for the Princess. Fortunately, he and Clare ended up with a good view of the judging party, which consisted of a panel of bakers and the Princess. Evan had never seen the Princess before and was surprised when he caught his first glimpse of her. He had expected a young woman with a commanding presence, and what he saw before him was a rather thin, small young woman who looked, well, who looked faded he thought. The Princess was rather plain. Her overall appearance was just dull, and he could not detect much of a spark in her. What was that word his mother had used to describe their mare when she had taken ill? Listless, that was it, he thought. The Princess looked washed out, and listless, as if she were ill.
Clare gave a start next to him when the Princess arrived but quickly covered it up. She remained silent, but Evan knew her well enough to know that the silence and the stillness of the young woman standing next to him were covering up much stronger emotions.
Evan further noticed the special royal guards were very much in evidence, if discretely placed throughout the pavilion. Were they expecting some type of trouble? With the Princess looking so wan, it certainly did not look like she would be the source of concern, so why then such a close watch on her? Another odd thing Evan noticed was the make-up of the crowd gathered. At the actual judging, even with the Princess in attendance, he thought those gathered would be mostly bakers or members of the bakers’ families. There was really not much to see other than the judging panel eating very tiny portions of the submitted entries. Not really crowd pleasing like other judged events such as horse trials, or herding dog trials.
It would be more likely to see some of the town’s notables and nobility at the awards ceremony to take place later in the day just before the fair closed, but not at a pastry judging, and yet there were more well-dressed folk gathered in the pavilion than expected. What struck Evan as the oddest note, however, were a number of folk who on the surface appeared to be merchants, foresters, and prosperous farmers, but reminded Evan of theater players; folks who were dressed for a part, but for some reason did not ring true in the role they were trying to portray. They had too much of a watchfulness about them he decided, especially the one in forester green garb.
Watching folks eat pastry was not all that entertaining, so Evan was relieved when Clare tugged on his hand to get his attention and motioned that they should make their way out of the pavilion.
Once they were outside and walking back towards the baking oven area, Clare leaned over and whispered, “Let’s go grab something to eat and talk.”
Evan thought they would stop at the royal baking ovens and get food there, but Clare led him past the ovens and back through the fair, through the town gate, and on up to the house where the royal cook and other members of the royal staff were staying.
“We can pick up a lunch here and then go across the lane to the small park to eat. That alright with you?”
“That’s fine with me as long as you throw in something really fine for dessert.”
Once settled, Evan noticed that Clare was picking at her food and asked her what was on her mind.
“I’m worried about the Princess. She doesn’t look well. No, that’s not quite right. She seems, oh, I don’t know, pale.”
“The word that came to my mind was faded,” countered Evan, “like she’s fading away.”
“Yes, that’s a good way to describe it, like the light inside of her is dimming, and she is just fading away. I wish I could just talk to her, but no one on the staff is allowed to get anywhere near her. I’ve tried to talk to her personal maid, but the lass can’t seem to stand still these days and looks like a frightened rabbit most of the time. As a baker’s apprentice, I have no reason to approach the Princess. If we were back in the capitol, she might have come down to the kitchen or the bakery, but here she is not even in the same building as the staff. I’m afraid for her, Evan, but I can’t think of anything to do.”
Evan debated what to say next. True, he had known Clare almost all of his life, but he had not seen her in awhile. Should he let her know that he had friends who were as concerned as she was and wished they could help, or should he stay mum? For now, he thought he would play it safe.
“It must be hard for you to see someone you know and care about not looking well. If there is anything I can do, just let me know. I will come by tomorrow around noon to the bake ovens. Do you think you would be free for lunch?” he asked, thinking that by keeping in contact with Clare, he might be able to get some information from her that would be helpful. He felt a little bit like he was using his childhood friendship with her and debated again if he should fill her in a little.
“I would like that,” Clare replied. “I can be free then, but now I am going to have to ask your pardon. I find myself much wearier right now than I thought I would be. I didn’t sleep well last night, worrying that I wouldn’t get up in time to bake, or that my pastries would be an abysmal failure. So now, if you don’t mind, I think I need to cut our day short and go take a nap.”
“Well, I do mind, for I had looked forward to the afternoon, but I do understand and will look forward to catching back up with you at the end of the day when they announce the winners. You will be there, won’t you?” Evan inquired.
“Thanks for reminding me. Now I won’t sleep during my nap, afraid I will oversleep once again, but still it will feel good, if nothing else, to just lie down for a little while.”
“Let’s pick up here, and I’ll walk you back to the place you are staying,” said Evan, as he moved to gather up the blanket they had been sitting on.
He walked Clare to her door and then headed back to the fair, debating whether he should go back to the booth and give Master Clarisse a break, or if he could justify a little more time off to go check out the horse stock for sale. As he turned the corner to head back towards the town gate, he thought he caught a flash of forester green out of the corner of his eye, but when he glanced back, there was no one to be seen.
Chapter Forty-Three
The second day of the fair had gone surprisingly well, with times of good brisk sales and times of blessed lulls. I continued to carve on the plaque I was making and work with Shyla. Her father really did not need her at their booth, and I was glad to have her company at mine. While shy in most things, she was surprisingly good at selling, and I found myself letting her wait on some of the customers. She seemed to have good instincts about what might appeal to both a customer’s taste and pocketbook. I had just finished teaching Shyla how to scrape in the groves on the lid of a small walnut box so she coul
d inlay it with a lighter wood, when I noticed Evan had returned to Master Clarisse’s booth. I was surprised he was back so soon, having expected him to be gone all day. Once I got a good look at him, I became more concerned, for he was not his normal enthusiastic self. He and Master Clarisse had their heads close together, and I could not hear what they were saying.
Shyla asked me a question, which distracted me from the two in the booth next to mine, and when I had a moment to glance back, Evan was no longer there. Master Clarisse leaned over into our booth and told me she would catch up with me later. I had to be content with that. The rest of the afternoon flew by, and I was pleased with the results of both Shyla’s and my labors. She was a very quick study, and I closed up the booth with a nice feeling of satisfaction. That bubble swiftly burst during the discussion with Master Clarisse that took place after dinner.
“I wonder if we might have a chance to talk,” Master Clarisse inquired.
“Now?”
“Now would be good. Meet you behind your homewagon. I’ll grab Beezle, and we can go sit on the stone wall.”
It would be nice, I thought, to just meet, sit on the stone wall like friends after a long day at the fair, and wind down talking about the day and the customers, discussing what food booth was good or whether we thought one pastry cook or bread baker’s wares were better than another’s, but that was not reality. I was sure such common topics were not why Master Clarisse wanted us to meet. I was right.
I found a spot on the low stone wall that was relatively flat and pulled myself up to sit on it. I did not have to wait long for Master Clarisse and Beezle to arrive. Beezle hopped up and settled himself next to me, and Master Clarisse leaned her body against the wall on the other side of me.
“Evan spent the morning with his friend Clare but returned earlier than expected because Clare needed to get some rest after a long night and an early morning rising. She is entered in the apprentice pastry category, and the baking and the worry took a toll. Evan should be back shortly, but he went to the bakers’ pavilion to see if she won and to find out anything more about the Princess,” said Master Clarisse, dropping her voice to a soft whisper.
“If his friend won, knowing Evan, he will probably volunteer to help with any pastries left over, so they don’t go stale,” suggested Beezle with a chuckle.
“That lad does have a sweet tooth in addition to a hollow leg,” Master Clarisse countered in a just louder than normal voice. I wondered why we were having this conversation about Evan’s capacity for food, when I noticed a couple I did not know strolling towards us.
“Evening,” the man of the couple said to us, tipping his hat slightly in greeting. “Lovely night, isn’t it?”
We all agreed that it was indeed a lovely night, and the couple passed us and strolled on. This switching back and forth between secretive and normal back to secretive was getting old. Having to watch what I said, and to make sure I was aware who might be listening, was also irksome. I tried to shake my irritation off and turned my attention back to what Master Clarisse was saying.
“Evan’s friend Clare, who knows the Princess somewhat, agreed with Evan that the Princess does not look well.”
“Is she ill?” I asked.
“That’s not quite how Evan described her; more like the light inside of her is dimming. He didn’t know how else to put it. His friend Clare said that the Princess is for the most part cheerful and full of life, but that is not how she seemed this day. Clare is very worried but has no chance to get close to the Princess. Evan has arranged to meet Clare for lunch tomorrow and hopefully will learn more. We know the Princess is scheduled to judge in the bakers’ area over the next two days. We’ll see what more he can find out, if anything.”
“Could she be under the influence of some type of concoction of herbs or plants?” Beezle asked.
I had an urge to smack the front of my head with my hand, for I should have thought of that.
“I don’t know, but it’s a possibility,” I answered. “I have a pretty good notebook concerning herbs and plants and how to use them locked in my cart. I will spend some time going through it this night, trying to find if there is a mixture which would make someone, ah, . . .”
“Lethargic,” supplied Master Clarisse, “and pale or faded.”
“Even if I find something that might explain her change in appearance and personality, what good does that do us, or for that matter, what could we do about it?” I demanded somewhat more hotly than I had wanted. I think the frustration and anxiety of the last few weeks was finally getting to me.
“I don’t know,” Master Clarisse replied appeasingly, “but the more we know, the better we will be able to figure things out. I have a feeling the situation in Sommerhjem is not getting better and has the potential to get much worse. We have been sucked into a part of it whether we ever asked for it or not. We know just enough to be dangerous to the Regent. I hope we have been so far on the fringes that we have not been noticed yet.”
“My booth is closer to the baking area, and there was a lot of grumbling this day about the Princess,” suggested Beezle. “This contest is a big deal for many, for there is pride of goods and pride of place involved. That ‘my baker from my town is better than your baker from your town,’ type of rivalry. No one is going to come to blows over whose hot cross buns are better, but nonetheless, the Princess’ ruling is important, if for nothing else but bragging rights for the next year. Since she showed no enthusiasm for anything placed before her this day, it takes a bit of joy out of the final outcome. Folks have certain expectations about what the royals should be and act like, and our Princess fell far short, only adding to the apathy the general public is already feeling towards her.”
“Let’s hope tomorrow is a better day,” remarked Master Clarisse.
After that statement, the conversation continued a little while longer, and then we all headed to our respective campsites. I had not had much time to spend with Carz in recent days and so decided to take a walk outside the town walls to stretch our legs. Like many larger towns, the area outside the town walls had been cleared and was farmed. I could see woods in the distance but none very near. Hedge rows and stacked stone fences divided the fields and grazing lands. Carz and I turned back as dusk began to cast long shadows and heavy dew began to dampen the air. I made a side trip to my cart before going to the homewagon to get Nana’s book on herbs and medicinal plants.
Once settled in bed with a cover thrown over my legs, my back propped up with several pillows, and Carz stretched alongside me, I began to look through Nana’s book. I was searching in particular for plants, or combinations of plants, which might produce lethargy or cause one to appear faded or pale. I fell asleep mid-formula, having found nothing so far.
I was awakened by the sounds of the campground stirring and realized I had overslept a bit. Despite the worries swirling around in my head, I was looking forward to the day. I was going to pick up my new boots from the rover shoemaker. I decided if I grabbed a quick breakfast of a biscuit or two with honey and a mug of tea, I still had time to go through a few more pages of Nana’s book while I ate. With breakfast finished, and aware of the time, I licked a bit of honey off my fingers so I could close the book, but then decided I had time for one more page. That is when I found what I was looking for. Was it possible? The proper use of the mixture was to calm someone in hysteria or under extreme stress. There were warning symbols all over the page suggesting that this mixture, when consumed in too large an amount or over a long period of time, would begin to sap the life out of someone. Was that what was happening to the Princess? I quickly turned the page and read on. There were a number of antidotes listed, many surprisingly simple, but if this was what was happening to the Princess, how would someone get the antidote to her? The other problem I thought about was, if she began to show signs of increased energy and life, what would happen to her?
How could she be warned? I needed to talk to Master Clarisse right away about my suspicions. I hurried out of my homewagon, almost tripping on Carz on the way out, and headed towards Master Clarisse’s tent only to find it empty.
“Are you looking for Master Clarisse?” Mistress Jalcones asked, looking up from stirring a pot of porridge. “She left just a moment ago, heading towards her booth.”
I thanked Mistress Jalcones and hurried towards our booths. When I arrived there, I was not surprised to see Shyla already set up, working on her box. I glanced over and saw Evan setting wares out, but no Master Clarisse. Just as I was beginning to despair that I had missed her, she stepped out of her wagon carefully carrying a small stained glass panel. I did not disturb her until she and Evan had hung it in their booth.
“Master Clarisse,” I called, “could I have a word with you?”
She must have seen something in my face, for she motioned that I should follow her back to her wagon behind her booth.
“What is it Nissa? You look worried.”
“I think I found a possible reason why the Princess is, as Evan said, fading.” I explained what I had read in Nana’s book.
Master Clarisse thought for a long moment and then asked if I could copy the pages out for her. She wanted to consult with Master Rollag and see what he thought. Once Master Clarisse had the copy from Nana’s book in hand, she instructed Evan to watch the booth and told him she would be back as soon as she could, for she wanted Evan to keep his lunch date with Clare. At the mention of a date, Evan blushed all the way to his ears. So that was the way the wind was blowing.
It was getting close to noon before Master Clarisse returned and motioned me aside.
“Master Rollag thanks you for your information. He and the guild’s herbalist looked over what you sent. The herbalist said at another time, in a calmer time, he wants to get a gander at that book you have, or meet whoever wrote it. It is better that we do not know what they are going to do with the information, but I know they plan to do something. We will just have to wait. Master Rollag did ask that we go about our business as usual, but be alert, and to please not to try to do anything concerning the Princess.”