Tokens and Omens

by Jeri Baird

Alexa had her own plan she shared with no one. Not her favored teacher, not her mother, who would be shocked to know her daughter capable of such an idea, and not her best friend, Merindah. With a small favor from the fortune-teller, Alexa felt confident she would not be a baker, whatever Mother might think.

  CHAPTER THREE

  First Day of Magic

  Zander

  Zander woke as the sun struggled to light the room through dust-covered windows. Father stood over him. Too late, Zander pulled the ragged quilt over the pup nestled under his arm.

  “What’s this?” Father whistled. “Moira gave you a coyote?” He grabbed the pup by his scruff and shook him. “You better watch yourself, Son, if Moira thinks you need a predator for your patron.” He dropped the whimpering pup to the straw sleeping mat.

  Panic twisted through Zander’s chest at the thought of losing the pup in the quest. “I won’t need him to protect me. I want to train him to hunt.”

  Father leaned down, the stink of the night’s mead on his breath. “There’s no room in this world for a soft heart. You learned that long ago.” He stood. “Train him and use him when you need him.” Father stomped across the room. “Get up.”

  After cutting thick slices of the carrot cake, Father slathered butter across the soft surface, where it stuck in large clumps. He handed a slice to Zander, and said in his way of blessing, “Eat and be grateful.”

  “Eat and be grateful,” Zander murmured back. It was about as much church as Father allowed, which was fine with Zander.

  As much as he hated what Father must have spent for the cake, Zander loved baked sweets. But today the aroma of cinnamon and sugar triggered a memory of his mother’s embrace. His happiness vanished like the flame of a snuffed-out candle. He struggled to finish and held the last bite out to the pup, which he’d named Shadow. The coyote sniffed, licked the butter, and gulped the cake. Shadow didn’t seem to miss his mother, so why did Zander?

  Sitting at the hewn table, Zander swallowed hard and cleared his throat. Father was sober. This was his chance. “Tell me of your quest. Did anyone die?”

  Father bowed his head into his hands. “One. He was my best friend.”

  So that was why Father never talked about his quest. “What happened?”

  “What happened? Moira deemed him unworthy to live. That’s what happened.”

  “But why? Was he bad?”

  “He was reckless. He turned sixteen the day before the New Year. Byron was the youngest quester, and he never took it seriously. He spent five months not caring and earning every omen he could.” Father let out a jagged laugh. “And he misplaced every token he earned.”

  He stabbed his finger at Zander, and Zander jerked back. He never knew when Father would connect that finger to his chest. That time, he kept talking.

  “Keep track of your tokens. If you lose them, you can’t fight your omens. But if you lose your omens? They’ll come. You can’t escape them.”

  Zander nodded. He had an old brown leather pouch to keep them in.

  “Byron got scared in the sixth month. He fasted, he cared for the old, he did good deeds for the priest, but it was too late.”

  “Why didn’t you help him? Give him some of your tokens or find him in the forest and fight together?”

  “No!” Father slammed his fist on the table. “You go it alone. You can’t cheat Fate. Remember that, Zander. Moira cannot be cheated.” Peering at Zander, his father grimaced. “Everyone gets omens, but try to limit them. The omens come when you do a bad deed or your thoughts are dark. These are your challenges during the quest, and some cannot be overcome.”

  Zander’s heart thudded. How could he control his thoughts?

  “And remember to stay on the good side of the priest and the fortune-teller. They hand out tokens and omens as they see fit.” Father sucked in a deep breath. “There’s one other thing. Moira hands out favors after the quest. Whatever she gives you will benefit your calling, but she’s tricky. Sometimes she bestows the favors during your time of magic. If she gives it early, you know you’re in trouble, ‘cause you’ll need it. You never know what Moira plans for you. She’s a fickle one, Fate is.” His father stood. “I’m done talking. The priest and fortune-teller will tell you what you need to know. Go. You have time to hunt before the Welcoming Ceremony.”

  With his father’s instructions rolling through his head, Zander grabbed his bow. He’d wanted to ask about Father’s patron, but he didn’t dare. He knew enough to understand Father had needed it in the quest—that’s why he didn’t have one now. Zander raced toward the calm of the forest, but he’d be careful. On the first morning of the holiday, the elders hunted too.

  ~

  After shooting three rabbits and a pheasant, Zander returned as Father opened a jug of mead. Zander laughed as he laid the game on the table. “We’ll feast tonight, Father.”

  He stared into his father’s dark eyes. For a few seconds, a vision played out in front of him. Father hugged a woman. Zander couldn’t see her face, but it was evident Father loved her. Zander could feel it. Who was she? Who was this woman and why did Father hide her? Why was he seeing Father’s secrets?

  Confused, Zander mumbled, “I left my pack in the forest.” He grabbed Shadow, bolted from the house, and ran until his legs collapsed. He dropped, face to the ground, inhaling the musty leaves under the snow. Anger coursed through him, and he beat at the cold earth. Father kept too many secrets. He shivered while the wind whipped at his hair and drove snow down his tunic.

  Then, he rose as if compelled.

  A young woman stood before him. Silver hair flowed to her waist. “Zander,” she said.

  Her emerald eyes enthralled him. “Who are you?”

  “I am called by many names. Destiny, Fate, Fortune; however I prefer Moira.” She held out a green stone. “Your first omen. Learn to control your anger.”

  Zander breathed deeply, trying to regain his composure, before he reached to claim the stone.

  “Do you enjoy seeing secrets? I chose your favor after much consideration.”

  Zander gaped at Moira. “My favor? Why now?”

  “You’ll find it useful, Zander. But it’s best to hide it. Others will avoid you if they know you see their hard-held secrets. And what fun would it be to have your favor and not be able to use it?”

  She lifted Shadow and breathed into his mouth. “He came early, but he’s delightful. Shadow will be your patron.” She glanced at the sky. “Run, Zander. You’ll be late for the ceremony.” And, as fog evanesces in the sun, she vanished.

  Rolling the stone in his hand as he raced home, Zander vowed to control his emotions. He wouldn’t reveal the vision or his visit from Moira to Father.

  When he burst into the house, his father held a mug. From the look of him, it wasn’t his first.

  Father slurred, “Th’noon bells’ve rung.”

  On his first day of magic, Moira had given Zander an early favor of seeing secrets, the green stone omen, and a predator patron. And now he’d be late to the Welcoming Ceremony. It wasn’t a good start. After a backward glance at his father, Zander sprinted to the Quinary.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Six Months until the Quest

  Alexa

  Alexa felt a pinch on her cheek. “I’ll get up, Mother,” she murmured. She yawned and opened her eyes. A long, black and brown, furry animal danced on the bed. Its white face with a brown mask stared at Alexa.

  “A ferret?” Alexa squealed. “Moira gave me a ferret for my patron?”

  The ferret leaped off the bed and hid under a pile of clothes. Alexa slid off the bed and knelt next to the clothes. “Come here, girl. I won’t hurt you.”

  A tiny nose poked out and sniffed Alexa’s outstretched fingers. The patron crawled out and sidled toward Alexa, who scooped the weasel into her arms. The ferret rubbed her nose against Alexa’s c
heek.

  “You’re beautiful!” Alexa whispered. “I thought I’d get a canary like Mother’s. You’re much better than a bird.” She studied the little furball curled in her arms. “What’s your name?”

  The ferret’s black eyes peered back.

  “Fiona? I think that fits you.”

  Alexa smiled as she recorded the ferret’s name in the black journal that had appeared on her doorstep the night before. It came wrapped in a purple cloth, tied with a golden cord, smelling of lavender. She ran downstairs for a bowl of water and scraps of uncooked rabbit. After Fiona ate, she curled up on Alexa’s pillow and fell asleep.

  Time to get ready for the ceremony. Alexa separated three long strands of hair and braided, adding turquoise and clear quartz beads onto the golden curls. The Twelve Day Feast began that day, and she wanted to look her best. She dressed in the clothes Fiona had hidden in. All questers dressed alike during their time of magic. She pulled the wheat-yellow undershirt over her head, marveling at the softness. Hemp pants dyed green from the roots of sorrel came next, and she cinched the waist with a braided hemp tie. Alexa had helped gather and boil the acorns that colored the brown tunic she slipped on.

  As she pushed the buttons fashioned from deer antlers through the slits, pride warred with fear. How long she’d dreamed of this day! To be a quester and on the cusp of adulthood. But wearing the clothes and having her patron animal made it all too real. Last, she slipped the strap of a leather pouch over her head and settled the pouch at her hip. As she collected tokens and omens, she’d store them safely in the bag.

  A sudden memory jarred her. Last year, Saul had earned plenty of tokens, but he’d died from a snake bite in the quest.

  Pushing away the fear, Alexa tied her curls in a loose ponytail, leaving the braid to hang free. She’d do her best to earn tokens and avoid the deeds that brought omens. She picked up Fiona and gently placed her in a loose woven pouch and slipped it over her shoulder. She skipped down the stairs and out to the market. The noon bell would signal the start of the Welcoming Ceremony. She had time to find Merindah.

  Light snow fell as she searched for her best friend’s black curls. Merindah’s dark skin identified her as a descendant of the Dakta Tribe, the creative ones. Most of the artists and musicians were Dakta. They were the dreamers, but not Merindah. She saw everything as black and white. Alexa spied her friend and ran to meet her at the five-sided Quinary. Five massive oaks formed the living cornerstones for the oldest structure in Puck’s Village. Each represented one of the five tribes.

  A sparrow perched on Merindah’s shoulder. A headband woven of horsehair and seed beads crossed Merindah’s forehead and tied in the back. When she reached Alexa, Merindah asked, “Where’s your patron?”

  Alexa opened her bag and a sleepy ferret poked out her head. “This is Fiona.”

  Merindah laughed. “You would get a ferret.”

  Alexa reached up to stroke the sparrow’s head. “What’s her name?” When her friend blushed, Alexa hid her annoyance. This was going to be good.

  “I’m calling her Angel. She’s a messenger from God.”

  “She’s not from God, she’s from Moira.” Alexa shook her head. Merindah tied everything to God.

  “Well, I don’t care what you think. I believe she’s from God.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s perfect for you.” Alexa could give Merindah that. She grabbed her friend’s hand. “Let’s get drinks.”

  The scent of meat roasting over open fire pits drew them to the festivities scattered throughout the market. Laughing men labored to turn the spits laden with boar and deer. The first day of the New Year was one of two yearly celebrations where no coin was needed for food. The elders supplied the meat, and each family shared what they could. Alexa’s mother had baked through the night to provide sweet apricot and hickory nut bread. Alexa rushed past a table of roasted red potatoes and honey-glazed purple turnips. A group of ragged-looking children stood at the tables and stared at the food with big eyes. Alexa took a quick breath. It would be a day when the shack house kids would go to bed with full bellies.

  She and Merindah headed for cider. The year’s abundant fall apple harvest had left plenty to store over winter and press for the sweet drink.

  Alexa grabbed two mugs of hot spiced cider. As she handed one to Merindah, Alexa giggled. “Let’s check out the boys.”

  “You mean let the boys check you out?” Merindah rolled her eyes. “You want to prance about in your fancy new clothes?”

  “At least there aren’t any girls from the elders’ families questing this year.”

  Merindah frowned. “Rank doesn’t matter during the quest. We’re all equals.”

  “It matters.” Alexa blushed. “We just pretend it doesn’t.”

  “Alexa? Don’t hope for an elder’s son as a boyfriend. You know it won’t happen.”

  And that was why Alexa wouldn’t share her plan with Merindah. It could happen. Sometimes a boy chose a girl from beneath his class instead of riding to another village to find a wife. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit it hardly ever happened, but Alexa had a plan. And this was a day for hope. A new year, a new beginning. She pushed away her fear that Moira could doom her to the bakery and a life of drudgery.

  As she stood at the two-hundred-year-old Quinary, Alexa searched for the other questers. Across the market, Dharien, the second son of Elder Warrin, stood tall and aloof. His black hair swept across his forehead. Brown eyes glared with contempt at the other teens. No one would doubt his Kharok background.

  First born and heir to Elder Rowan’s estate, Paal’s dark blond curls and soft physique made him look feminine. She giggled. He could pass for her brother. He spotted her staring and grinned. Dimples formed in both cheeks. Cute. He stooped to pick up a brown and white retriever pup that barked at a feral cat.

  The peasant cousins, Odo and Kaiya, stood under the far tree of the open Quinary. They lived in the alley set apart for the Yapi tribe. Odo clutched a yellow kitten. Kaiya’s patron, a black crow, perched on her shoulder. Unless Moira found them exceptional, Odo could expect to work in the fields or stables, and Kaiya would likely be a kitchen maid. Alexa laughed to think of how a crow would be any help in a kitchen. But then, maybe Moira had other plans for Kaiya after all.

  Cobie, whose scrawniness gave him away as the youngest quester, was always smiling and ready with a joke. Like Merindah, Cobie descended from the Dakta tribe, and his father was a coppersmith. Already gaining a reputation as a talented ornamentalist, Cobie’s flowered utensils were sought after by the elders. Moira was sure to allow him to apprentice with his father. Cobie held a small cage of wood slats. Alexa peered to see what was inside. A lizard changed its colors as she stared. Not a lizard, a chameleon—a suitable patron for an artist, she thought.

  The other questers huddled together. Alexa ticked them off in her head. Tarni, daughter of the candle maker, hardly ever spoke and held a canary in her palm. All the questers had been required to help Bindi’s mother, the clothier, prepare the cloth for the questing clothes. Bindi nervously stroked a calico cat. Yarra’s father worked leather. She held a wiggling piglet that would never be a pair of shoes.

  Jarl, large like his bricklayer father, scowled at everyone. If anyone might not survive the quest, it would be Jarl. A large black and white shepherd pup sat at his side. Waku carded yarn for his father’s weaving business. He’d lost his mother two years ago in the fever that had ravaged their village. He’d taken her place at the spinning wheel. A red cardinal sat on his shoulder, shifting from leg to leg.

  Dharien caught her eye again. She didn’t see his patron. He scratched at his long sleeves and scowled at the brown tunic hanging to his knees. He twisted the hemp rope cinched at his waist and flipped it against his pants. He didn’t seem to enjoy giving up the fancy clothes of the elders. Alexa blushed. She couldn’t help it. Dharien’
s good looks made her shiver.

  One boy was missing. Where was Zander? She’d seldom seen the furrier’s son, but she was sure he was sixteen. He should be there for the ceremony.

  After Alexa finished the cider and shared a small meat pie with Merindah, the noon bells rang. Alexa grabbed Merindah’s hand. “It’s time.”

  Together they joined the others and lined across the pavilion. She held Fiona, as was the custom. Alexa glanced down the line. Each teen stood tall with their patron animal next to them, on their shoulder, or in their arms. Who would die this year? Whose family would mourn at the end of the quest? When Saul didn’t return from the quest last year, his family had searched the forest and carried his lifeless body home.

  Father Chanse and the fortune-teller, Melina Odella, stepped to the front. They shared duties in the yearly ritual. Wearing the traditional black robe and white cap over the red hair found predominantly in the Odwa tribe, the priest began. “I represent God, the Church, and tradition.”

  Melina Odella stood next to him. Her patron animal, a silver wolf, sat at her side, her black eyes intent on the questers. A long, red, embossed tunic flowed over the fortune-teller’s purple skirt, tied by a gold cord at her hips. A triangle of black velvet covered the unruly, dark Kharok hair cascading down her back. As her violet eyes gazed across the crowd, the villagers grew silent. Thick black charcoal lined the top and bottom of her eyelids and lifted at the corner of her eyes.

  Alexa wished Mother would let her line her eyes. Maybe once the quest ended and she was acknowledged as an adult, she could do as she pleased.

  The fortune-teller began the speech she repeated every year. “I embody Moira, our Fate, and things hidden. On this day, Father Chanse and I remind you of the balance between the faith and mystery upon which our village was founded.”

  Alexa had heard the story many times, but now she paid attention as the priest’s voice rose. “Two-hundred years ago, our God protected Hedron Puck as he gathered those weary of war from the Five Tribes. He dreamed of creating a perfect society by the shores of the Merope Sea. But Moira decreed they should remain here when they camped in our gulch during a lightning storm.”