Tokens and Omens

by Jeri Baird

  Business slowed in late afternoon, and after a quick meal of oat bread and cold rabbit, Alexa pulled her embroidery from behind the counter. She retrieved a needle from the hem of her tunic.

  From across the kitchen, Mother frowned. “Alexa! How many times have I warned you not to store a needle in your clothing? If you fall, you’ll stab yourself.”

  “Mother, I’m sixteen.” Alexa laughed. “I don’t stumble around like a two-year-old.” She threaded pink silk into the eye and pushed the needle in and out as she completed the cross-stitched border. She’d started the scene during the Twelve Day Feast, and it was almost done. As she held it to the light, pride surged through her. This was some of her best work. A small copper peacock materialized next to her. With a sigh, she stuffed it in her pouch and examined the stitching.

  A black and white dappled horse stood beneath a towering oak. Grasses in six shades of green were speckled with yellow flowers. With a thin gold thread, she stitched her name above the bottom border. As she tied the last knot, Alexa gasped. To her astonishment, the scene came alive. The yellow flowers swayed in an imaginary breeze. Two doves fluttered around the cloth while the horse bent his head as if to graze.

  This must be her favor from Moira. It had to be, the way the stitched figures moved across the cloth. Now she knew for certain she would not be a baker. It was a lady’s favor. Alexa pursed her lips. The women would fight like peasants to own such a treasure. And it would bring Alexa a step closer in her plan to leave the bakery.

  She hid the cloth when Mother brought over fresh loaves of apple cinnamon bread.

  “Can I go?” She wouldn’t be able to hide her excitement for long.

  After Mother dismissed her, Alexa slipped into the crowded market and wandered along the rows of stalls, lingering to admire the jeweled clasps. When the vendor waved her away to make room for a buyer with coins, Alexa stormed from the stall. Someday she’d have her own jewels. As an elder’s wife, she’d have plenty of coins to spend.

  She bumped into an old woman. “Oh, pardon,” Alexa exclaimed.

  The crone smiled, and her emerald eyes sparkled. She held out a small carved pig, the omen for greed.

  Those eyes weren’t natural. Was this Moira?

  “Alexa,” the old woman purred. “I gave you your favor early for a reason. May you use it wisely.”

  With that, Moira disappeared. Alexa glanced at the crowd, but no one else seemed to have seen Fate.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Zander

  An hour before dusk, Zander hiked down the gulch and up into Elder Rowan’s land. Paal’s father wouldn’t be hunting this time of night. Zander’s hand was safe.

  He inhaled deeply, smelling the heavy scent of snow on the air, and cocked his head, listening for animals that preferred to be predator over prey. Shadow slunk next to him, nose sniffing. This evening, Zander hunted for the peasant cousins. He tucked himself between the branches of a Scots pine, nocked his arrow, and waited.

  A hare caught his eye. Zander lifted the bow and sighted. Rabbits were easy targets. It was if they announced, Here I am. Shoot me. As silent as the air around it, the arrow found its mark through the eye. It was easy enough to shoot three more.

  Soon, four rabbits lay piled on the frozen ground next to him. Zander caught a flash of yellow beyond the brush. A large cat-like animal skulked from the cover and regarded Zander from golden eyes. He’d heard of mountain lions in the forest, but never believed the stories. He hardly believed now as the last light of dusk cast shadows, making the cat appear ghost-like rather than real. Shadow pressed against the back of Zander’s legs.

  Graceful and fearless, the cat sniffed the air as her ears twitched. The flick of the tail alerted Zander she’d scented him. Seeing the muscles tensed to spring, Zander drew his bow and hoped his shaking arms could hit his mark. But then, in the cat’s gaze, he found himself linked mind to mind. As he had seen his father’s secret, he observed the primal urges of hunger in the cat. The drive to feed her twin male and female cubs and the scent of blood from the rabbits at Zander’s feet ruled the feline’s instincts.

  He lowered the bow. Without breaking eye contact, he reached to the ground and felt for two sets of long ears. So not to startle the cat, he tossed them underhanded into the clearing between them. The cat snarled, revealing long, sharp teeth as she snatched the rabbits. She disappeared, leaving Zander to wonder if he dreamed it, but no, two rabbits were missing. He let out his breath, unaware he held it. At his feet, a golden cat formed from a leaf. Zander rubbed the token and dropped it into his quiver of arrows.

  Night had fully fallen before he’d replaced the rabbits. He hurried home amid the squeals of a mouse carried across the treetops by an owl. At the bottom of the gulch, the hair on Zander’s neck tingled.

  “Leave me alone, Puck,” he said to the wind.

  “Unite the tribes,” came the whisper. “Save the village.”

  Zander rolled his eyes. “Give it a rest, Puck. I’m not your hero.” Puck’s ghost should’ve given up after two hundred years of being dead.

  “Zander . . .” His name drifted out and stretched along the stream. It followed him up the embankment, but ended once Zander climbed over the edge. He fumbled his way home in the dark and let out a deep breath, relieved his father was absent. After lighting the lantern, Zander ate cold stew. Then he lay down, fully dressed, on his straw mattress with Shadow curled next to him.

  Zander woke to the crash of a chair hitting the floor and his father swearing. He waited until Father shuffled to bed and snores replaced wheezing. Then he rose and pulled on a cloak. Three fresh loaves sat on the table, still warm from the oven. Where did Father buy bread at this hour? They still had uncut pumpkin bread and half a loaf of rye.

  For several minutes Zander weighed the consequences of taking two loaves, thinking of what he’d tell his father if he noticed them missing. He ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t mind lying, but found the truth easier to manage.

  Listening to his father’s drunken snores, Zander grabbed the pumpkin and rye. If Father asked, he’d say they were moldy. He slipped from the house, retrieved the hidden rabbits, and tied them to his waist. A quarter moon gave enough light to navigate the rutted streets as Zander and Shadow scurried toward the opposite end of the village. As he neared the deserted market area he slowed and stepped behind a booth to avoid the Protectors patrolling the village. If he was caught in the market past dark, he’d be thrown into jail, and a person could be in jail for a long time before seeing a judge.

  Six men strode across the street with clubs swinging at their sides. They were Kharok like Zander, but it wouldn’t keep them from knocking him in the head if they caught him skulking in the shadows. Zander waited until the men disappeared around a corner before he snuck past the stalls and darted for the alleys. A dog barked, and Shadow yipped in reply.

  “Quiet, boy.” Zander knelt to hold the pup from going after the dog. The stench from the garbage-filled streets gagged him as the stagnant night air held the smell close to the ground. He didn’t understand how Odo and Kaiya could stand to live in the filth.

  Zander closed his eyes, debating the risk. It was none of his business to provide food for two families because they had kids his age. Every Yapi family living in the alley was hungry, of that he was certain. He almost gave in to the voice in his head begging him to turn and go home, until he remembered the hunger pains he’d felt from the cousins and Melina Odella’s words to follow his heart. He plunged into the dark alley, wound through the narrow streets past the trash pile, and turned left at a burnt shack.

  Lingering in the dark, Zander contemplated the house he’d spied the two cousins enter earlier. They shared the house with nine others. He pressed his tongue against his chipped tooth. The imagined bravery of a Protector filled him. He shrugged and ducked under the coarse cloth that covered their doorway. Once inside, Zander l
aid the bread and rabbits on a table pushed against the wall to give more floor space for sleeping.

  Kaiya’s crow perched on the back of a chair and opened one sleepy eye to gaze at Zander. He held back a shiver. One caw and he’d be discovered. In the haze from the embers in the fireplace, a body stirred on a sleeping mat. Zander backed out and vanished into the darkness.

  After slinking home with Shadow at his side, Zander fell into bed. The tension of sneaking across the village, hiding from the Protectors, and hoping the peasants wouldn’t catch him made his head pound. Two tokens materialized next to him—a loaf of bread and a rabbit. He tucked them in his leather bag and sleep overcame him.

  Zander woke to the morning bells. Stars, he’d be late for class again. He ran to the church and slid into a seat. The priest glared as Zander opened his journal. Father Chanse droned on, and Zander wrote the final deadly sins. The omen for overindulgence was a pig. Greed completed the list and earned a snake.

  Dressed in black with a deep lavender tunic that made her eyes glow, Melina Odella said, “If you receive a pig omen, you can spend a day fasting to earn a butterfly.”

  Dharien laughed. “A butterfly to fight a pig?”

  “Believe it,” she said. “Being generous to others will earn a hawk.”

  “I guess I won’t be earning any hawks then.” Dharien smirked at the fortune-teller.

  Melina Odella fixed her gaze on Dharien, and his smile faded. “Being an elder’s son does not guarantee your safety in the quest.” She swept the room with piercing eyes. “Do you have any questions about the tokens or omens?”

  Zander glanced at the others, who seemed too timid to speak. His need for information was greater than his need to remain in the background. “What about the omens and tokens we receive that aren’t from the deadly sins or virtues?”

  “What others have you earned? Give me an example.” Melina Odella looked curious.

  Zander glanced at the cousins. He wouldn’t mention the rabbit or bread he’d earned last night. “I earned a mountain lion token while hunting yesterday.”

  “What?” snapped the priest. “How did you deserve that?”

  “I . . . I didn’t shoot her. Instead, I gave her two rabbits to feed her young.”

  “How did you know she had young?”

  He didn’t want to reveal his favor, so Zander shrugged. “I guessed.”

  The fortune-teller smiled. “A mountain lion token will protect you from a pig during the quest.” She chuckled. “Or you could disperse a whole cluster of peacocks with that one token. Well done, Zander.”

  Across the circle, Dharien’s mouth twisted like he’d sucked on a lemon. Zander tried not to smile.

  “Anything else?” the fortune-teller asked.

  Zander hesitated, but he needed to know about the green stone. “On my first day of magic, Moira gave me a green stone omen. I don’t know how to fight it in the quest.”

  The priest sputtered. “Moira gave it to you? Are you sure it was her?”

  “She had long silver hair and eyes that glowed green. She disappeared while I was watching.”

  “Did she say anything?” He sneered. “What words of wisdom did she have for you?”

  “I was late for the Welcoming Ceremony. She told me to run.” He didn’t add that she’d said to keep his favor a secret.

  The rest of the questers laughed. Except for Dharien, who leaned forward and glared at Zander.

  The priest turned red. “Does anyone else think they’ve had a visit from Moira?”

  Merindah raised her hand and said softly, “I think I did, but I might be wrong.”

  “She spoke to me,” Alexa said. “She told me to use my favor wisely.”

  Shaking his head, the priest muttered, “Preposterous. Visits from Fate and favors this early?”

  Melina Odella stepped in front of the priest. “It is rare for Moira to visit questers during their time of magic, but not unheard of. Treasure the gift of her appearance.”

  Zander glanced at the look of awe on the other’s faces.

  “You’ll each have a visit from Moira at the completion of the quest. She’ll come to you in a dream on your final night. It is then she will reveal your calling and give you your favor.” Melina Odella stared at Alexa. “We trust Fate to know what’s best for you and for the village.”

  The noon bells rang, and Melina Odella dismissed them. “That’s enough for today. Do what you can to earn tokens.”

  The green stone was still a mystery to Zander, but he wanted to avoid any more of the priest’s ire, so he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. Before he could slide past, the priest held out a thorn.

  Over the next two weeks, Zander continued to earn omens from the priest. He was either late or not paying attention. When Father Chanse’s favorite quill disappeared, he accused Zander. At the end of class, Father Chanse towered over Zander and added a pig omen for theft to the thorn. It was then Zander refused to call the priest Father. The man wasn’t his father, and Zander would never think of him as one. Never.

  Although Zander tried to avoid the other students’ eyes, he resigned himself to the fact that sooner or later he would see their private fears. So instead, he decided he’d rather have it done with and went looking for them.

  Paal’s shame at his pudgy body hid behind his smiling face. Cobie hunted illegally, as Zander did, to feed his family. Tarni’s mother was ill, Bindi’s father beat her, and Yarra, Jarl, and Waku worried over returning from the quest.

  Zander met Merindah’s eyes and puzzled over her secret. She wished to enter the convent. As far as he could understand, it was a noble desire and not something she needed to hide, but she held it tight, fearful of discovery.

  Dharien made Zander uncomfortable, and so he waited until the second week before he searched Dharien’s eyes. What Zander discovered surprised him more than any of the others.

  Dharien was a thief. Why would the son of an elder need to steal?

  That was the day Zander learned secrets could be dreams held close to the heart or dark thoughts desired to be kept hidden. He didn’t enjoy knowing any of them.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Five Months until the Quest

  Alexa

  Alexa slumped on her bed and wrapped the yellow coverlet around her shoulders as she mulled her plan, while Fiona played at her feet. If Paal or Dharien fell in love with her, she could leave the bakery regardless of what Fate decided. The elders’ families seldom apprenticed with the guilds.

  But which one? Dharien. Handsome and smart. When he smiled at her, her stomach fluttered, but he could be cruel. He hated Zander and made fun of him. Zander hadn’t done anything to deserve the ill treatment, and he never retaliated. As Elder Warrin’s second son, Dharien would likely train as a Protector after the quest. Most of the village girls swooned over the Protectors, but Alexa knew a girl who’d married one, and she was often alone. The Protectors spent most of their time training, hunting, and drinking with the elders. Not the life Alexa wanted.

  Everyone liked Paal, and he liked everyone. He had a quick smile, even for the peasants, Odo and Kaiya. As a firstborn son, he’d train under his father and inherit their estate. She liked Paal. Maybe she could learn to love him.

  She bit her lip. Girls had so much to consider. Which boy would make a good match? Zander? No, never Zander—not after what he said about her. Cobie was too squirrely. Odo was a definite no. The thought of kissing Jarl or Waku made her skin crawl.

  Although Merindah believed she was boy crazy, Alexa wanted to wait a couple of years before becoming betrothed. Mother told her she’d married for love and wished the same for Alexa. Obviously, it hadn’t worked out. Mother refused to speak of Alexa’s father, no matter how hard Alexa pleaded with her. But Alexa couldn’t wait. If she wanted to be certain she’d get away from the bakery, it had to be Paal or Dharien.
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  She closed her eyes. Paal, who looked like her brother, but was kind, was her choice.

  With the decision made, she picked up her embroidery. She hoped the elaborate scene would be enough trade for what she needed from Melina Odella. She pushed the needle in and out through the fabric as she finished the purple flowers and added golden butterflies. With the final knot tied, she grinned. The fortune-teller’s lavender eyes glowed from the center of the stitching as the butterflies flitted through the flowers twining around the edges.

  After rolling the cloth, Alexa cuddled Fiona and slipped her into the deep pocket in her jacket. She left for Melina Odella’s, hoping she could find the cottage. The day before, she’d overheard a bakery customer whispering directions to a young mother who needed a potion.

  Alexa left the market and hiked north past the shack houses belonging to the field laborers. Dirty urchins stopped their play to stare. The thin children made her heart ache. Perhaps being a baker’s daughter wasn’t so bad. She always had food. If her plan worked, maybe she could help the poor. The wife of an elder would have influence and money. If they married, Paal would surely agree. Another reason to pick him. Dharien had made it clear he wouldn’t earn any tokens for generosity.

  Continuing north, Alexa searched for the wooden post carved with moon and stars. It pointed to the left path, and she wound around until convinced she’d taken a wrong turn. She turned to leave. The dirty face of a solemn boy in too-small clothes stared from the path. He had a shock of red hair, an Odwan trait that seemed to pop up in the shack house kids more often than in the other villagers. He couldn’t be more than a year younger than herself, but his bright blue eyes seemed older.

  “If you want the fortune-teller, you’re almost there.” He waved for her to follow. “I’ll show you.”

  How did the boy guess she wanted the fortune-teller? Alexa followed as he trotted down a narrow trail and stood in front of a low, stone cottage with a mustard-colored door marked with runes. The scent of lavender drifted from the plants surrounding the house. Alexa recognized some of the herbs from the bakery. Rosemary, thyme, and ginger crowded together with unfamiliar greenery behind a short brick wall. She shivered. The fortune-teller must use magic to grow herbs in the winter while other plants lay dormant. The stone-walled cottage showed its age. It was rumored that Melina Odella was descended from the first fortune-teller in Puck’s Gulch.