Journey's Middle

by B. K. Parent

  “I have some help, but we need to go now. Our guide is aware that there is a ship waiting just on the other side of the fog bank about where we entered. I intend to move us as far south as we can go and slip out beyond their sight line. You will just have to trust me on this.”

  And so began the strangest journey Johan had ever experienced in all his years at sea. They raised only the jib, and the wind pushed the boat slowly through smooth water, following a glow that traveled just in front of the ship. The coming of dawn would tell if they had gotten out of the fog and slipped by the ship that had followed them.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  It felt good to be back on the road again. I had not realized how uncomfortable I had become with each passing day at the fair. Beezle had left the fair early as planned, and I missed him more than I thought I would. Master Clarisse had become quieter and quieter with each passing day, and even Evan could no longer make her smile with his good cheer and humorous antics. So when the horn signaled the end of the last day of the fair, we all were already packed and began to move out immediately. Oscar and Bertram had done the Lambkin fair in the past and so took the lead. When it was almost too dark to see where we were heading, Bertram began slowing his homewagon down and turned onto a narrow farm lane. We followed him until he pulled into the farmyard. Both brothers had had permission to camp at this farm in the past. The farmer came out, greeted them warmly, and told us we were all welcome, and welcome to stay as long as we chose. It was a relief to be out of the crowds of the fair and under much less scrutiny.

  Master Clarisse and Evan left early the next morning, but Bertram suggested we stay another day at this farm. When I questioned his reasoning for not moving on right away, he suggested that if we waited a day, the roads would be less congested. He wanted a day to make sure the homewagons were all in good condition for the roads ahead. He and Oscar had consulted their maps and felt they had plotted a good route on the back roads and lanes that would take us safely past the capitol with a minimum of fuss. The route they had mapped out would add time to our journey, and the roads would be far less comfortable than traveling the royal road, but they felt it would be safer. I had to agree.

  The next morning, after we did chores for the farmer, Bertram came over to help me check out my homewagon. We topped off the water barrels, took off each wheel, and greased the hubs. Working side by side with him brought back a flood of memories from my early years when my family was on the road. It had not been unusual to pull into a farm or camping area and meet up with other rovers, each family coming with their own set of skills and ideas. Da was much in demand for he was a metalworker and often bartered his skills. These gatherings were a time to catch up on the latest news of friends and trends, a time to exchange information about road conditions and where to camp, plus pass along any information concerning where particular trades or skills might be needed. I was never more aware of missing my family than I was right at that moment.

  After Bertram headed back to his homewagon to take a midmorning tea break, I slipped away to walk one of the farmer’s fields with Carz. I wanted and needed some time alone. Carz looked at me inquiringly, as if asking if I needed him to stay by me or not. I motioned he should feel free to hunt, but please not any of the kind farmer’s sheep or cows. Carz gave me that look of disgust, as if I had just insulted his intelligence. I apologized, and then asked if he had a chance, might he contribute some fresh meat to the soup pot for the evening meal? With that said, he bounded off, leaving me alone with my thoughts, which was not a good thing, for once alone, without other distractions, all of my worries came rushing in like the waves thrown against the cliffs in a violent nor’easter.

  The easy thing about taking one day at a time is it narrows the number of your worries down. Now that I had a spare moment to breath, and was standing alone in a field of summer wheat, the enormity of the problems and worries I had been holding at bay came crashing in. First and foremost, I was worried about Da. Ever since that day when I came home to find him gone I had been worried, but the weight of that worry had lifted a little bit when he had shown up as one Jonzee Smed. While I knew he was still being hunted by the Regent’s agents and his life was still in danger, I at least had had opportunities to see him briefly or know he was near by and alright for the moment. Now was a different story. I had not had a chance to talk to or see him at the last fair, and I did not know where he was, or if he were safe. Added to that worry was the fact that Master Rollag was also missing, and we had sent Tannar off with a man we were not really sure we could trust, supposedly to help Shueller.

  In addition, I was worried about Beezle. His uncle was so outspoken in his opposition of the Regent. With the Princess’ birth date coming closer and closer, would the Regent make some last moment move against those who were known to oppose him? I was equally concerned about Master Clarisse and Evan. I had always suspected there was more to Master Clarisse than met the eye, but in all the time I had spent with her, I had never had any proof that she was other than who she said she was.

  And then there was the matter of the Princess. Assuming we could keep her safe and get her into the capitol unnoticed, we still did not have a plan in place as to what was going to happen next. With the rumor of the Princess being in the palace and so ill, did we somehow need to get the Princess back into the palace? And then even if we did, what was to prevent the Regent from making her a prisoner again, or just having her killed?

  Since standing in the middle of a field worrying was doing no good, I decided it was time to return to the homewagon and ask the Princess if she would help me string some lines so we could air out the linens. Now that would be a tale to tell the grandchildren someday. “Yup, Princess Esmeralda worked right alongside me hanging out the bed sheets.”

  We left early the next day, and though the journey to the royal forest south of the capitol took us several days, we encountered no problems. It turned out that Oscar and Bertram did not often attend the fair in the capitol and had regular farms and spots they stayed at as they continued south.

  The Princess was certainly more talkative than she had previously been, asking a lot of questions, which I was often hard pressed to answer. The last few weeks had certainly provided an education for her, that was for sure. I was impressed as to how well she handled all the new information and new experiences. The world she had lived in at the palace was certainly far removed from the world I knew. Sometimes, when she did not know I was looking, I could see a great deal of sadness in her. Once, late one night, she expressed her great sorrow for all of the folk who had lost their lands or livelihoods and had been displaced.

  On the final day of our travels we approached the royal forest. Someone early in the history of Sommerhjem had recognized the need to preserve large areas of forests and natural meadows near what would become the capitol. Eventually these areas would be designated as parks or royal forests, and no attempt had been made to build or farm the land since time out of mind. I had been in a number of woods before and had climbed the high forested hills of home, but nothing prepared me for the royal forest we entered this day. The trees were huge and ancient, and there was an uncommon peacefulness to the woods. As we drove deeper into the forest, I began to realize that many of the trees we were driving by were species I did not know. In addition to not being able to recognize some of the trees, I began to identify that interspersed among the pines and more recognizable hardwoods were quirrelit groves. When I thought of the quirrelit tree the Huntress lived in, it was a miniature compared to the ones I was looking at now.

  Midmorning we pulled into a beautiful glen that was covered with very thick trimmed grass. There was an established cook ring, and through the trees I could see the sparkle of water. An opening in the surrounding grove led to another grove that was enclosed by dense bushes and would provide a natural corral for the horses. We pulled in, setting up a triangle with our homewagons, and unhitched the hors
es, who seemed delighted with their new accommodations. I could relate. I do not know if the feeling of safety was an illusion, or if it was real, but I felt better than I had in quite some time.

  I had been prepared to do all of the work, but I should have known better. Once we arrived, the Princess jumped down immediately and told me she would take care of the horses. I was glad she did, for I turned to look into the forest just in time to see one of Bertram’s youngest reach up and try to break a lower living branch off of one of the very young quirrelit trees. I was just about to admonish him when the branch lifted out of reach. The child jumped trying to catch the branch, and again it eluded him. I walked over and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

  “You do know you are trying to break a living branch off a living tree, do you not?” I asked.

  “I just thought it would be a perfect sword,” Vidar said.

  It has always amazed me that young lads can make weapons out of almost anything. I was not going to change his mind by making suggestions about trying diplomacy before might, but I did want him to learn the lesson about living things.

  “I wonder how you might feel if a tree came up and tried to rip one of your limbs off,” I questioned. He looked at me as if I had grown two heads.

  “A tree can’t take off my limbs,” he said, with the confidence of the very young.

  “I didn’t ask you if a tree could do that, just how would you feel if it did,” I replied back, not sure if I should have just simply yelled at him to just leave the tree limb alone. Judging from how deftly the limb had stayed out of the young lad’s reach, my getting into this discussion was probably not needed, but I persisted. “The point is that the tree is a living thing and by breaking a branch off, you make it more vulnerable to bugs and fungi and other things that can harm it. In addition, this is a very special type of tree, a type of tree that was here long before our kind settled here.” At this point I leaned down very close to the lad and in a quiet whisper said, “This tree is special to the Neebings.”

  Horror, fear, excitement, concern, joy cycled across his face so fast it was almost comical, and in a very small scared voice he asked, “Nissa, what do I do, what do I do? I didn’t mean to hurt the Neebings’ tree. Will they be mad at me? You have to help me,” he said.

  Since I had started this, I needed to find some way to calm him down. “It’s alright, Vidar. You tried to break the branch, but you didn’t succeed. Maybe you could spend the afternoon figuring out what you could leave in the Neebing room that might please them. Maybe you could also help the Neebings by tidying up their forest.”

  Vidar looked pleased at the suggestion that he find something special to put in the Neebing room in his family’s homewagon. It took him a bit longer to figure out I had just suggested he get on with the chore he had been originally sent to do, which was to gather kindling for the cook fire.

  With that look of disgust that only the young can give you, which includes eye rolls, Vidar began picking branches up off the ground.

  “Now remember . . .” I started.

  “I know, I know. No taking live branches.”

  I turned back to my own homewagon and got busy with chores. Since we were going to be here for several days, I attached the awning to the cart and got out my materials and tools for the chest I had started awhile back using the designs the Huntress had gifted me. Since we were going to the capitol, I needed a special piece to enter into the judging. It was something that would be expected. I was worried about the fair at the capitol, for there would be many more rovers there, and they might ask questions of both the Princess and I that we may not either want to or be able to answer. There was nothing I could do about that now, so I settled in to begin to carve the front panel of the chest and tried to lose myself in the work. The Princess settled in next to me, and I noticed she was starring intently at the pattern I was carving.

  “Where did you get that design?” she questioned.

  “It and others were a gift from a forester I met this summer. Her house had many designs carved into the walls, furniture, and cupboard doors. I admired them, and in exchange for a favor, she gave me copies of many of the patterns.” I did not go into detail about how I had really met the Huntress, nor what had happened that night.

  “I noticed when you were talking to Oscar the other night, you both were talking about the importance of having something to enter into the judging. That it was expected of participants,” the Princess said.

  “Yes, that’s true,” I answered. Once the words were out of my mouth, it struck me that it was not as the Princess that she would be entering the capitol, but as Kiaya the rover. Others would expect her to have an entry also. Why had I not thought of that?

  “I really have admired the designs you are carving into the panels of the chest you are working on. I was wondering if I might look at the patterns you have and see if there might be one or more that could be reproduced in a sweater, either on the front, back and sleeves, or as a collar and neckline border.”

  A very selfish part of me wanted to hoard the patterns in the book and not share them, but that just did not feel right. Once I decided that I would get up and get the book the Huntress had given me from the homewagon, a sense of rightness settled over me. The rest of the day flew by with all of us settled in at our respective homewagons working on projects or chores, and it just seemed so normal. For a little while, I could forget that the fair at the capitol was a less than a week away, and so much risk and danger was ahead of us.

  About mid-afternoon, Bertram came over, and I was a little concerned I might have overstepped boundaries by reprimanding his son, but he had actually come by to thank me for redirecting Vidar, providing him with an excuse to do his chores without the need to complain, and giving him something to focus on all afternoon.

  “He has shown a surprising talent for drawing,” Bertram said. “He decided to try to draw something as a gift for the Neebings. We are grateful to you for giving him a reason to search out a talent other than wanting to grow up and be a royal guard. He certainly has had a young lad’s fascination with those in the royal guard uniforms. Not that being in the royal guards or being a peacekeeper is a bad thing to want to be mind you, but he is such a gentle soul at heart.”

  Bertram’s visit reminded me that I too would need something to place in the Neebing room before retiring for the night, so I put away the panel I had finished. I found a small square of aromatic wood and began first to sketch in the pattern and then to carve in tiny detail one of the patterns from the book the Huntress had given me. As late afternoon moved to early evening, we all helped with dinner and after dinner chores. It had been a long day, so we all headed to our respective homewagons fairly early. I lit the lantern, and the Princess and I worked for another hour before both of us were spending more time yawning than working. We blew out the light and retired, but not before I put the small carving I had completed in the Neebing room.

  As I lay snug in my bed listening to the soft sounds of the Princess’ breathing mingled with the quiet rumble of Carz’ purr, I felt surprisingly relieved to be back in the country, back in a woods, and even, yes, back where Neebings might live. As the summer had progressed, I had come to be more and more convinced that Neebings did indeed really exist and were not just some tale rovers told their children. Since Neebings had been on my mind as I drifted off to sleep, it was little wonder that I awoke with anticipation as to what, if anything, might have been left in the Neebing room. When the Princess went outside to join the others who were up and stirring, I cranked up the Neebing room and looked inside. I certainly was not prepared for what I found there.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  I was glad the Princess was not in the homewagon because she certainly would have heard my gasp of surprise when I looked at what I held in my hand. It was a small key with intricate designs etched on all of its flat surfaces, the type o
f designs I was very familiar with. It was made of neither metal nor wood, and I do not think it was made of stone either. I had never seen a material like it. In addition, the minute I closed my fingers on the key to take it out of the Neebing room, the ring on my finger and the two held in the golden pine spider silk pouch around my neck began to warm. Oh my, I thought to myself, why would anyone leave me a key, and just what was it to? Just at that moment, the Princess opened the back door to the homewagon, and I, as nonchalantly as I could, put the key in my pants pocket.

  To cover up why I might possibly look anxious or even befuddled, I quickly asked the Princess a question. “Tell me what you know about the fair at the capitol, so I have a better idea of what is ahead.”

  “It is a fair unlike any of the ones you have been to so far this summer,” she replied. “It doesn’t take place in the capitol proper itself but rather on a permanent fairgrounds where all of the major guildhalls are located. It would seem that some very astute ruler felt it was best if those crafts that needed to use fire, or produced some less than desirable odors, should be placed away from the residential areas of the capitol and where the prevailing winds would carry the smoke and odors away. They planned accordingly. Since the capitol sits on the shore of a very well defended sea harbor and is flanked on either side by the north and south forks of the Addergoogle River, they built the town out from the harbor in a horseshoe shape. The first ring is the harbor and docks. It holds the warehouses and shipping businesses. The next ring in are the homes of those who are connected to the sea and those who work as domestics. It is on the flats and considered a less desirable place to live. The land then rises, and there are the homes of the merchants with their shops on the ground level. This is a beautifully terraced area, and most of the merchants’ homes have courtyards and gardens. The next ring up is made up of the townhouses of the minor nobles and officials. Higher up are homes of the more well-to-do nobles and merchants and also the town homes of nobles who have estates away from the capitol. It is where they stay when in town attending to business. Scattered throughout each level are shops, inns, pubs, and eateries. The final level is the palace, of course, and it is backed by extensive lawns and a very high sheer cliff. The capitol is very beautiful with its extensive gardens and parks. Many of the larger homes have well-kept lawns and beautiful inner courtyards. Great care is taken to keep the town clean and the roads and lanes safe.”