Journey's Middle

by B. K. Parent

Oh dear, I thought. Wait until we get to the fair. The Princess was going to get an earful.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  As we traveled, I tried to let the Princess know what was happening in Sommerhjem from my perspective, and from what I had heard and learned on my travels. After awhile her protestations of “That cannot be true,” and “He, she, or they would never do that,” dwindled to a halt. We were silent for a long time, and during that silence, it suddenly occurred to me to question whether I should have given the Princess so much information. She was on the side opposite of the Regent, was she not? This whole escape from Snoddleton had not been a ruse to get in with those the Regent considered his greatest opposition to try to get information on them, was it? Would he put the Princess at risk that way? Would she? They certainly could not have counted into their plans our being caught by the bandits in the woods, or could they? Maybe what they had not counted on were the foresters. Had I put them in danger by calling them?

  Ah-h-h, I was so out of my depth here. Frankly, I had grown to like the Princess over the last few days, and I admired the way she had handled herself, but I did not really know her, or very much about her. Well, I could not very well throw her out of the homewagon and make a break for the high hills at this point. I was just going to trust my original instincts that she really was running for her life, and it was my responsibility to try to help her get to the capitol by her birth date. Our immediate difficulty was to see if we could get into the Lambkin fair and settled in as sellers of wood and fine wool items without anyone becoming suspicious or yelling, “Look, there is the Princess disguised as a rover. Seize them!”

  Fortune smiled down on us, for we made it to Lambkin before the fair gates were closed. Unlike the other fairs that were within the town walls, the Lambkin fair was held on a walled green commons outside of the town, which was like a park. Lambkin, a quite old town which had never quite forgotten the turbulent past, was, for all intents and purposes, still a highly defensible fortress. As we pulled up to the fair gates, I could not help but notice the numbers of peacekeepers representing the town and royal guards stationed at the gate as others ahead of us were checking in.

  “Are you ready, Kiaya?” I asked through the door opening. “Remember, stay in the shadows of the doorway if you can, but if not, just follow the directions given us. I will do the talking, which would be proper since it is my homewagon and that makes me the head of this household.”

  “I will speak only when spoken to and for whatever happens next, I thank you for the trying,” Kiaya replied.

  All too soon it was our turn to talk to the gatekeeper. “Name and how many in your party?”

  I did not think that this would be a good time to try our joke of getting Carz a fair identification tag so was truthful.

  “Two sir, and a hunting cat. I am Anissa Anissasdatter, and I am traveling with Kiaya Solaugsdatter.”

  “Trade or craft?”

  “Woodcraft and knitted goods, sir,” I replied.

  “Did you come from the Springwell-over-Hill fair?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Where have you been this last week?”

  It struck me as odd to be asked where we had been. That had never been a question that had come up at previous fairs and was really none of anyone’s business I thought. Rovers travel where they will, and never before that I could remember had I had to account for my whereabouts, but this did not seem to be the time to point that out.

  “We have been near Bransbury, sir,” I answered truthfully.

  I decided not to elaborate. My answers seemed to satisfy him, for he then made a show of checking the papers he held.

  “Ah, seems friends of yours checked in earlier and reserved a spot for you next to them. Paid your fees for you.”

  More likely they had slipped him a bribe. I hoped it was not more than I could afford. He then held up a map and pointed to an area in the northeast corner. The fair was laid out in a large oval with a smaller oval stuck off the northeast corner. This might be a disadvantage for selling our wares, for the spot was off the main thoroughfare, but less traffic might also be an advantage, for it meant we would be camping within a small ring of booths rather than within the very large central oval. There would be fewer folks that the Princess would come in contact with.

  The gatekeeper went on for a few more minutes, giving me the rules and talking about the curfew. The Lambkin fair was to start earlier and close earlier than the previous fairs, with a curfew at dusk. Everyone staying within the fairgrounds had to be within the fair walls by dusk. Anyone caught outside the walls without a special badge would be arrested. The change in the fair hours had come as a concession to the town merchants who stood to loose evening income. Once I had my booth assignment, two fair badges, and had been properly schooled in the fair rules, we were waved through the gate under the very watchful eyes of the royal guards. As I drove my homewagon down the lane between booths, I noticed that this fair was being set up like the Glendalen fair, so news of the success of that arrangement must have traveled to here.

  My nervousness had not ended once we were through the fair gates, for that was just the first hurdle. I did not know how much the others of our group had been told by Master Clarisse or Beezle, and I hoped I had a chance to find out before others began to ask too many questions. Had they filled in the Jalcones, Oscar, Bertram, or Evan on who the addition to my homewagon really was? If not, would our story hold up? This hiding in plain sight was trickier than it had first appeared. I was very relieved when the first one I met pulling through the gate to the camping area was Beezle. He had a surprised look on his face when he realized that it was us, since my homewagon certainly looked different with its new paint colors and designs. He made no comment about it, but rather climbed aboard and directed me to where we were to camp and where my booth was to go.

  “We were getting a bit worried, for we had expected you earlier this day,” Beezle said.

  “Had a bit of a delay,” I answered back, which was just a bit of an understatement. “Tell you about it later. What do folks know about the newest member of my homewagon?”

  “Master Clarisse and I had a great debate about what to say to whom on our trip here and agreed that the smaller the number who knew about your guest the better. There was a small group that needed to know the truth, and then be given the option to continue to be with us or move on. We did not think it was fair to put Bertram or Oscar’s families at risk by association unless they knew what was going on and had a choice of what to do next. Both have talked it over with their wives and have chosen to stay. Their children only know that Kiaya is a widow of a rover and have been told not to ask her any questions, for it might be too painful for her. The Jalcones are also aware of Kiaya’s true identity, and Mistress Jalcones has suggested that Kiaya spend her days with her.”

  Turning to look behind him and address the Princess, Beezle said, “You might be put on cooking duty, for Mistress Jalcones has volunteered to cook for us once again. If we’re really lucky, you might be able to discover what the secret ingredients are for her stew, which is the best I have ever tasted.” Turning back to Nissa, he said, “Pull over here. Your booth is there between Master Clarisse’s and the Jalcones.”

  “The Jalcones have a booth?” I questioned.

  Normally the Jalcones just camped within the fairgrounds with us, and Trader Jalcones spent his days gathering goods that needed to move to the next fair or contracting with some of the smaller sellers, those who did not have wagons, to move their wares on to the next fair, or seeking out contracts for hauling goods later in the year.

  “Says he does this once or twice a year. Seems some folks change their minds about what they have ordered and do not pay upon delivery, so Trader Jalcones is stuck with whatever they ordered. To recoup his losses, he sets up a booth and tries to sell off what is cluttering up his wagon and t
aking up space. Calls it a bargain booth. He has some pretty strange and fascinating wares.”

  “Where is your booth?”

  “You passed it on your way in. I’m next to the food booths at the corner where our area connects to the main lane, so while my booth is a bit farther away, I have set up to camp with Master Clarisse and Evan again. Oscar and Bertram’s booths are next to Master Clarisse’s which means we are all in a cluster and will have a lot of eyes looking out for any trouble. A caution though. Shyla really missed you and is anxious to resume her work and study with you. She is unaware of Kiaya’s real identity but may feel she has lost her spot with you, knowing you are showing up with someone else in your homewagon. I would suggest you talk to her right away.”

  I pulled the horses to a halt, thinking over what Beezle had said, and noticed that Shyla was standing just behind her family’s booth.

  “Beezle, once I have the homewagon where it needs to be, do you have time to unhitch the horses and help Kiaya take them to where they will be pastured and get them settled in? I’m going to get Shyla to help me set up the booth.”

  “Not a problem and a good solution,” Beezle answered.

  When I called Shyla over and asked her to help, I saw the tension in her shoulders relax, and we set about putting up the booth and setting up our work areas. I talked with her about what she had worked on during the week we had been gone. I had left her with a few of my tools, and she told me Trader Jalcones had just happened to have a jumble of tools in his wagon and was going to sell them at his bargain booth. Many of them were woodworking tools she told me excitedly. I wondered about how fortuitous it had been that Trader Jalcones just happened to have woodworking tools and suspected they may have arrived in his wagon quite recently. Shyla asked if I could help her design and build a box to hold them and others she would like to acquire. I told her I would. While I hoped she would not have betrayed us because of jealousy if she found out who Kiaya really was, it was better not to put someone so young to the test. Beezle had been right to give me a heads up about Shyla. Just another reason I was glad to have been blessed with great new friends over the summer weeks.

  While we had been setting up, I noticed Beezle and Kiaya had returned. Kiaya had almost been smothered in a hug by Mistress Jalcones who was murmuring sympathetic words about Kiaya being a poor dear. In no time at all, Mistress Jalcones had Kiaya peeling tubers and was talking a mile a minute to her, telling stories about Trader Jalcones’ and her various travels. Should we all survive the next couple of weeks, Mistress Jalcones was going to have a great tale to tell about how she just hugged the royal heir without a by-your-leave and then set her to the task of peeling tubers. Bards might even make up songs about her.

  When thinking how lucky we were for being assigned a spot in the smaller circle of the Lambkin fair, I had surmised that being here would mean less traffic and less folk, and thus be safer for the Princess. What I had not counted on was that being in a smaller group meant that we tended to band together after fair hours. I had forgotten that. I only hoped that the “recent widow” story would hold up, that folks would respect the Princess’ privacy and accept her sorrow as the cause of her not fully participating in the evening activities and gossip. Since we were late to the fair and were still setting up, some folks that I knew from other fairs wandered by, but none lingered. That would not hold for the coming nights.

  I knew I was not going to be able to fully relax. I also knew that looking over my shoulder and looking tense was not going to be a good idea, so I took a very deep breath and tried to slide into the routine of getting ready for another fair. Shyla was eager to show me what she had made and her new tools, which she had bargained hard for with Trader Jalcones after we had set up our booth. Had Da been with me, we could have made her a set of chisels, spoke shaves, and other tools for the craft she was learning. I was thinking of that when I sat down for dinner. I glanced over at the Princess to see how she was faring, since she had been with Mistress Jalcones while Shyla and I had been setting up the booth. I was surprised to see her laughing and ladling out stew as if this were something she had done every day of her life. If anyone looked at our little gathering right this minute looking for the Princess, I do not think they would have recognized her.

  The early start of the fair the next morning had not deterred fairgoers. I was surprised at the number of folk wandering by the booth, but not many stopped to buy. The day went swiftly, and I did not mind the early closing. After a delicious dinner, our entire group gathered around the fire to just relax. The Princess was seated on a camp chair knitting, and for all appearances looked like a rover working on her craft while enjoying an evening with fellow travelers. It was when others who were working the fair dropped by to talk that I became concerned. Not so much that they would recognize the Princess, but rather about the topics of conversation and how they would affect her.

  I am sure those who stopped by the fire would not have been so free with their opinions if they had known who sat among them. Since Kiaya was just another rover to them, they grumbled and complained about the Regent, the recent curfew, the bad sales, the weather, and much about the Princess and how she had not shown up as expected at the Springwell-over-Hill fair. Statements like “what is this land coming to” and “the Princess sure doesn’t hold a candle to her mother the Queen,” and mumblings about how “no one could trust anyone anymore” were commonplace.

  When it was just our group left, and the others had wandered off, I asked Master Clarisse if Master Rollag and crew had arrived and was concerned when she said no, they were not here, and she would talk to me later. I also wondered if Shueller had a booth at the Lambkin fair, but thought better of asking that when others might still hear our conversation. All too soon it was time to retire for the night, for morning would come earlier, so Kiaya and I finished up our nightly chores and settled in the homewagon. While we had sat around the campfire, I noticed she had been very quiet, with her head down, knitting. Once we were in the homewagon, I could not help but notice she was visibly upset.

  “Are you alright?” I gently asked her.

  “No. When I was younger, my mother would take me on her summer journeys, and I really hated it. I wanted to be back at the palace playing with my friends and felt put upon that I had to go. I was too young to realize how important those trips were. After she died, when it was proposed that I travel in the summer, at first it was suggested I was too young. I did not argue. As I grew older, I was just as glad no one brought it up. Lately though, I was feeling closed in at the capitol and used the summer travel as an excuse. I imagine, had I stayed in the company of the royal entourage, I would have continued to be ignorant of how the folk felt, or dead. Dead is not good. Knowing I have let down the folk that I am to rule is hard to deal with.”

  I was at a loss as to what to say. I thought she was being very hard on herself, but maybe that was alright. I suggested that we try to get some sleep, for who knew what tomorrow would bring.

  Chapter Sixty

  Early the next morning, Master Clarisse pulled me aside and asked that I accompany her into Lambkin to visit the master glassmaker there. She suggested that I ask Shyla to look after the booth.

  “I really just wanted to have a chance to talk to you alone,” Master Clarisse stated, after we had left the fairgrounds and were heading towards the main town gate.

  The words, “I need to talk to you alone,” have always been worrisome to me, and the serious look on Master Clarisse’s face was not making me any less anxious. We wandered the streets of Lambkin without speaking until we came upon a small square with a fountain. Master Clarisse sat down on the edge of the fountain and patted the seat beside her. I sat down next to her.

  “Thank you for coming with me. I was really worried about you the whole time we were at the Springwell-over-Hill fair, and when day before yesterday dragged on and on, and you and Kiaya still had not
arrived, I feared the worst,” Master Clarisse stated.

  “I was a little worried myself there for awhile. We were fortunate that the foresters came along and rescued us,” I commented.

  Master Clarisse gave me a long hard look and then said, “You do seem to have astonishing luck. I can only hope that it holds until we get Kiaya to the capitol. The reason I asked you to come with me is because I am very worried about Master Rollag. He left the Springwell-over-Hill fair midway through and was supposed to arrive here day before yesterday, same as you, and he has not yet arrived. He and the driver Jonzee took off in one of the smaller wagons on an errand, but Master Rollag was not very forthcoming on what the errand was, or where they were going. I had hoped to talk to the shoemaker Shueller, thinking he might have an idea where they might be, but he is not here at this fair either.”

  This was not good news, and I am sure my concern showed on my face, but Master Clarisse could not know that the concern was not so much for Master Rollag or Shueller, but for the man she knew as Jonzee. What could I say to her?

  “I am afraid to put discreet inquiries out for fear that the wrong folks might hear I am looking for Master Rollag, draw the correct conclusion that he is not where he should be, and begin to wonder where he is and what he is up to; and yet it is hard to do nothing,” said Master Clarisse. “Did the foresters mention anyone else being caught or harmed by those who captured you?”

  “No, we seemed to be their first victims, and no matter how hard they were pressed, they would not reveal what they had done, or failed to do, that made them so desperate to flee from the wrath of the Regent,” I said. “I don’t have any information that can help you, I’m sorry to say.” More sorry than Master Clarisse could possibly know.

  Master Rollag and Jonzee left Springwell-over-Hill mid-afternoon, heading west towards the coast, and traveled until it was deep dusk, that twilight time when knowing where the road is is a matter of looking up and watching the tree tops rather than looking down and watching the road. One of them could have gotten out and held a lantern aloft to guide the wagon, but they chose not to.