by B. K. Parent
I approached Shueller, who was sitting on the back steps of his homewagon. “May I join you?” I asked.
“Please, grab a step and keep an old man company,” Shueller answered. “You look like someone who has a head full of questions.”
I was a bit startled that I was so easy to read, but then maybe it was not me so much, but that Shueller was just a good reader. I thought I would start out with the question which was least on my mind and work my way up.
“I noticed that the green banner you hung off the back of your homewagon is missing, as is mine. Do you know what happened to them? Did someone have a great need for green material?” I said, trying to keep the moment light.
“I had Tannar take them down. Your homewagon was attracting too much attention without the added notice the green banner would attract, and my homewagon is right next to yours. Too many eyes looking our way.”
Shueller’s reply was not what I had expected, and it created more questions than answers. I was about to ask another when he continued.
“The green banner has always been a signal to a small group of folk who have, shall we say, been useful to the Crown in a discreet way. While it would have been a signal to others who might have casually stopped by to exchange information, attracting any more attention than need be to the homewagon that Kiaya is staying in, in retrospect, seemed at best foolhardy. I was also concerned that folk, other than those who should be stopping by, knew of the meaning of the green banner and would approach you. I thought we had better be more safe than sorry.”
That certainly made sense to me, so I went for the next question on my list. “Why are so many folks interested in my homewagon?”
“Because you have painted your homewagon in the old designs, and word has gotten out among the rovers, especially the older rovers like me who understand the significance of the designs on your homewagon,” Shueller answered.
Now I was really confused. What was he talking about?
Seeing my obvious confusion, Shueller continued. “Fashion comes and goes, and new ways often replace the old, but some traditions have certain significance attached to them. The keepers of the stories of the rover clans tell one in which when the Neebing patterns come around again to grace the land, then great change is on the wind, and one or more Neebing blessed will arise.”
I was just about to ask about this Neebing blessed business when Carz, who had been lying quietly at my feet, suddenly rose, hackles standing straight up, and growled a warning.
Chapter Seventy-Six
I stood up and quickly stepped down the back steps of Shueller’s homewagon to grab Carz’ collar. I crouched down beside him and talked to him quietly, hoping he would respond to my voice, which I tried to make as calm as possible, damping down the blazing anger I felt inside. Who in their right mind would bring an angrep hound into a crowd of folks, no matter that it was in harness and leashed. One by one the fiddles fell silent, and I could hear parents calling to their children and urging them to come into the homewagons or leave the area. I looked over my shoulder to find Shueller had disappeared off the steps and looked up to find Tannar standing behind me.
Carz continued to issue a warning growl, and I could feel his muscles quivering under my restraining hand. I had once again told him out loud to hold and kept repeating over and over in my mind, Carz, please hold, no danger yet, please hold, please hold.
The angrep hound was being held in snarling check by a large brute of a man dressed all in black. Behind him was a group of four similarly dressed men, all of them rough-hewn and scruffy looking. I was unsure whether the rank smell was coming from the hound or the men. Oscar, Bertram, and a number of other rovers, who had been either participating in or enjoying the music, stepped forward and formed a solid semicircle between our wagons and the men with the hound. I noticed the Princess slipping up the back steps of our homewagon, and I was thankful she was hidden from sight.
“Are you mad, bringing an angrep hound into a crowd of folks?” Oscar demanded.
“Jus’ out for a friendly stroll and heard wailin’ and squallin’,” the big man sneered. “Come to investigate. We’re under orders from the Regent to make sure all is peaceful at the fair and walk the perimeter to make sure everythin’ is as it should be. Yer ain’t afraid of a wee pup now, are ye? Wouldn’t be no bother if ye rovers had camped where ye were supposed to.”
Just as it looked like it might get ugly, a small patrol of royal guards stepped into the light of the wagon lanterns and called out to the leader of the so-called perimeter guards. The men and the hound were directed to accompany the royal guards and sent packing. I learned later that Oscar had sent his youngsters not into his homewagon but out of the area in search of anyone in authority. It was quick thinking on his part, for which I was really thankful, for I do not know if I could have held Carz much longer. Had a fight ensued, I felt confident that Carz would have been the winner in the end, but I shuddered to think of at what cost. He could have been seriously injured, or because he was in a fight, the fair authorities might have banished him or threatened to kill him, because he had shown himself to be too dangerous.
There was a lot of grumbling among those camped near us, but soon the conversations died away, and folks retired for the night. It was not until much later, as I tried to get to sleep, that I realized I had not had a chance to finish talking to Shueller and still had more questions than answers. Morning came much too soon, and the day looked to be a long one. Tomorrow would be the third day of the fair, and whatever was going to happen was going to happen then. The conversation over breakfast was about the incident with the angrep hound and the disgust over the Regent’s continued harassment of the rovers. This latest move certainly did not help the Regent’s cause, for news of the incident had spread rapidly across the large field where we were set up, and many of our close and not so close neighbors made the effort to come by and express their anger that such ugliness was happening. I noticed Oscar, Bertram, and others were gracious in their thanks for the support and also were quietly suggesting to those who dropped by that they make sure to attend the Regent’s gathering at the Well of Speaking the next day.
Beezle was the first one at my booth as Kiaya, Shyla, and I were setting out our wares in anticipation of the fair opening for the day. He pulled me aside to give me two messages. First was that he had been successful getting the message to the Captain to please meet with Master Rollag, and second, to remind me about the meeting at the greenhouse after dusk this night. Just as he finished delivering both messages, the opening fair horn blew, and there was little time the rest of the day to worry about the meeting coming up this night or the Regent’s gathering at the Well of Speaking tomorrow.
Even though we were busy, the Princess and I had a few moments to talk between folks stopping by the booth. At one point she asked whether I had noticed an increase in the number of royal guards and peacekeepers moving up and down the lane our booth bordered. I had not, but once she mentioned it, it became apparent that there were more this day than yesterday, and they were not here as casual shoppers. With each passing royal guard and each passing moment, I became more and more anxious, but the Princess remained calm, knitting away. I began to feel like we were in some bizarre play put on by the royal players and hoped that any minute the curtain would fall, we would hear applause, and this particular act would be over. No such luck, and it was only noon.
Finally, the fairgoers began to thin out, and the Princess and Shyla had gone back to the homewagons to take a rest, leaving me to close up. When the end of the fair day horn blew, the last of the stragglers moved on down the lane, and I began to put our wares back in the cart to store them and keep them safe overnight. I had just placed the last of the puzzle boxes into the cart, turned back to check the booth to make sure I had not left anything out, and almost tripped over Shueller.
“Ah, oops, sorry, I didn’t se
e you there,” I told Shueller, all the while trying to regain my balance and not fall on him.
“My fault, lass. I should have warned you I was behind you. Are you alright?” Shueller asked.
“Not to worry,” I answered back. “What can I do you for?”
“I was wondering if you would honor me with your presence for a short stroll after dinner? There is someone I would like you to meet. Perhaps Carz could join us. Bet he wouldn’t mind stretching his legs a bit.”
I thought about the invitation and about the meeting at dusk, and decided both could be accomplished. As I was wondering if Shueller would be joining us at the meeting this night, he must have been reading my mind, for he said that he knew I needed to be somewhere with Kiaya at dusk, and he had folks he needed to speak with also. We settled that we would take our stroll once dinner was over. Then Shueller slipped away as quietly as he had arrived. I finished up and headed back to the communal cook fire to see if I could help with dinner.
After the meal, I called to Carz and asked him if he would accompany us on a walk. He made a big production of yawning mightily, stretching out first his hind legs and then his front legs before coming to stand by my side. He gave me a look that seemed to ask what I was waiting for, so Shueller, Carz, and I set off at a slow meandering pace down the lane our booths were bordering. To anyone watching, we would seem to be wandering aimlessly, just two folk and a hunting cat out for an after dinner stroll, but I knew Shueller was heading us somewhere specific. We ended up at the guildhall of the fine metalworkers, those who designed and crafted jewelry and other decorative art made from precious metals such as silver and gold, often incorporating semiprecious and precious gems. I was surprised to see a number of rover homewagons set up behind the booths lining the lane.
“Before we approach, lass, I want you to know the rover I want you to meet is someone I would trust with my life and on a few rare occasions have. He will know who you are. Don’t let that worry you.”
Which who, I wondered, would he know, Arial or Nissa? It turned out that neither of those identities was even remotely close. We approached a very old rover homewagon that made me wish it could talk, for the faded designs on the weathered wood called to me. The rover sitting behind the homewagon, warming her hands on a cup of hot tea surprised me, for I had pictured the owner of the homewagon would be as ancient and worn as the homewagon itself, but that was not the case.
“Nissa, I would like you to meet Gersemi. Her grandfather and I have been friends for what seems like several lifetimes, but really has just been a long, long time. Gersemi, is your grandfather here?”
While Shueller had been talking, I had a chance to really look at the woman in front of me. Though she was sitting down, I suspected she was taller than most women and full figured. A rather striking woman with very long black hair and penetrating blue eyes. It was hard to estimate her age, for while she was not a young woman, she had the appearance of youth. I began to wonder just how old her grandfather was.
After she went into the homewagon to fetch her grandfather, Shueller turned to me and said, “I know you have been curious about a number of things, and while I can answer some of your questions, Zeroun is far more knowledgeable than I about the ring you wear.”
Moments later, probably the oldest man I have ever met climbed slowly down the back steps of the homewagon, his granddaughter assisting him. He gingerly eased himself into a chair in front of the cook fire, and Gersemi placed a soft light rug across his lap. He had been concentrating so hard on maintaining his balance that he looked up only after he was seated. The smile he gave Shueller lit up his whole face.
“Shueller, my old friend, to what do I owe the honor of your company?”
“I have someone I want you to meet who has questions I think you might be able to answer. This is Nissa. Nissa, this is Zeroun, one of the finest gem and precious metalworkers in Sommerhjem, which is part of the reason we have come to visit him. He is also one of the oldest rovers and a keeper of our history. Nissa has a ring I think you might be interested in looking at.”
“May I take a look?” Zeroun asked politely.
Shueller nodded assurance, so I held my hand out, and Zeroun took it in his, turning my hand this way and that so as to look at the ring at all angles. He did not once suggest I should take it off, for which I was thankful since I was not sure I could.
“Ah,” he said, and continued to look at the ring. “You were right Shueller. ’Tis one of the old stones. Haven’t seen but one other in all the years I’ve traveled and never in a setting like this one. Would you tell me, Nissa, where you got the stone?”
Now I faced a moment of truth. I know the stone had been placed in the Neebing room, but was I ready to say to someone out loud that the firestar gem had been gifted to me by Neebings? Could I stand Shueller and this elder of the rovers laughing at me until their sides ached because I had become convinced that Neebings were real? Both men and Gersemi were looking at me expectantly, so I took a deep breath and told them where I had been gifted with the stone and where I had been camped when it happened. Then I held my breath. No one laughed. Then Zeroun asked me about the setting, saying he had never seen anything like it. Oh, why not? I thought. In for a copper, in for a silver.
“It was made for me by the Huntress who protects the woods near Crestbury.” Again, no one looked surprised.
“Ah, child,” Zeroun whispered, looking at me kindly, “Shueller was right when he told me one of the Neebing blessed walked among us. I think we need to move this discussion into the homewagon. Kindly help an old man up, will you, Nissa?”
We moved slowly into the homewagon, the four of us and Carz, who made himself quite comfortable in front of the door. If he had been a human, I might have thought he was guarding the door and on the lookout for anything suspicious, but that was just a whimsical thought on my part, perhaps. We settled around the table, and I leaned forward hoping against hope that I was finally going to find out what it meant to be considered Neebing blessed. When Zeroun began to talk about the firestar gem, I was worried that once again I was going to be disappointed.
“The stone you wear in your ring is very rare, and while the Günnary have been able to mine it occasionally, they have had great difficulty finding anyone who can cut it. Over time there have been some rover gem cutters who have had some luck, but mostly, stones the size of the one in your ring have been Neebing gifts. Those who possess them tend to hand them down from generation to generation, and only those who have an affinity towards good will cause the stone to answer to like stones. Forester clans have ring bearers, and when one dies, the stone seems to pick the next wearer. The tradition that goes with the stone is also passed from generation to generation, but few who wear the stone are also Neebing blessed.”
Oh, finally, I thought, we are about to get to the part I want to know. I waited for Zeroun to go on, but he seemed to be finished speaking, as if he thought I understood what he was talking about. Shueller must have read the look on my face but misinterpreted it.
“Ah, lass, it is a great honor to wear the firestar gem.”
“It’s not that, Shueller, it’s this Neebing blessed business. Folks keep telling me I am Neebing blessed, but I don’t know what that means. Up until recently, I thought Neebings were just made up to entertain rover children. Too much has happened this summer that I can’t explain to be able to discount Neebings, but that still doesn’t help when it comes to understanding what it means to be blessed by them.”
“I think Zeroun can explain it better than I can,” stated Shueller, who let out a soft chuckle when he looked at his old friend whose head was now resting on his chin and a soft snoring sound was coming from between his lips.
“I am so sorry, Nissa,” Gersemi said. “Grandpa tires easily these days, and he is just plumb worn out from the journey here. We rarely venture this far north, but he insisted
that we had to attend the capitol fair this year. Perhaps tomorrow he will be more alert longer.”
At the mention of tomorrow, all thoughts of what it meant to be Neebing blessed quickly left my mind, for the thoughts and worries I had been trying not to pay attention to all day came rushing back. Tomorrow was the third day of the fair, and who knew if being Neebing blessed was really going to matter, for tomorrow at the Well of Speaking the lives of all of us who had helped the Princess would most certainly never be the same again.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Shueller and I made our polite goodbyes and left the homewagon. Carz got up and fell in alongside me as we headed down the lane away from the Fine Metals Guildhall.
“I know you still have questions, lass, but the time grows late and short, so we had best part. I will probably see you later this night if all goes well. Be safe. Carz, you look after her,” Shueller admonished the hunting cat, then turned away and headed briskly down the lane.
As I watched Shueller go, I noticed two elder rovers come out from another homewagon and fall into step with him. Just as I was going turn and follow, fearing that Shueller might be in danger, I saw him greet each with a smile of welcome. Carz and I then turned and headed towards the Glassmakers Guildhall. I knew the Princess would meet us there, for she was coming with Oscar and Bertram, but I would feel better once I could see all of the others in person. Upon reaching the greenhouse door, I was once again greeted by Master Clarisse, who opened the door and told me to go on down, that almost all of us had gathered, and she was just waiting for a couple more.