by Jeri Baird
She’d forgotten the boy until he leaned in and sniffed. “You smell like bread.”
For the first time, Alexa wasn’t offended. She reached in her bag and drew out a roll. Smiling, she beckoned. “Would you like this?”
She spotted the desire in his eyes, but his hands hung still at his side. She stepped closer, lifted his hand, and placed the roll in his palm. His fingers curled around the soft bread, and he gave her a quick smile before he turned.
“Wait,” Alexa called to him. “What’s your name?”
“Zephyr, but call me Zeph.”
“Thanks for your help, Zeph.” He skipped along the path until he disappeared around a bend.
A bread token materialized at her feet, and Alexa tucked it into her bag. Maybe Mother would allow her to bring the unsold bread to the children here. She smiled at the idea of bringing a small cake for each child, but knew Mother couldn’t afford to bake cakes for the poor. It didn’t matter. Day-old bread would fill their hungry tummies better than sweets.
Clouds floated across the sun and cast a chilling shade as Alexa took a deep breath and knocked on the door she hoped would lead to her destiny.
As the door opened, she recalled her mother’s warning years earlier when Alexa first noticed Melina Odella in her flowing skirts in the market. Be careful of that woman. Favors asked from the fortune-teller sometimes manifest in unwelcome ways.
Alexa reached into her pocket and touched Fiona for courage. She hesitated only a moment before she stepped into the darkness. The pungent odor of herbs made her head swirl. They smelled of the balm her mother rubbed on her chest when she coughed, but there was more to the fortune-teller’s magic than healing colds.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Alexa glanced at the room. A table with two chairs occupied the center of the space. Candles flickered across the floor. Silk in deep shades of red, green, and purple floated from the ceiling to the floor and swayed in the breeze that accompanied her into the room. Alexa had never been in such a strange, but oddly comforting, room.
“Melina Odella?” Alexa held out the stitching.
The fortune-teller unrolled the cloth, and her eyes showed her surprise at the moving picture. She gestured Alexa to the table. “Come.”
They slid into armless chairs. Fiona wiggled out of the pocket and perched in Alexa’s lap with her front paws resting on the table where three piles of cards sat in ominous stacks. Melina Odella shuffled the cards before spreading them across the table in front of her.
“Choose one.”
Alexa examined the elaborate red scrollwork designs across the white backs. As her hand hovered over a card near the middle, a tingle vibrated through her fingers. She tapped it.
Melina Odella moved it face up in front of her saying, “Another,” and “Another.” She placed the second and third cards on each side of the first.
A sudden panic rose in Alexa’s throat, and she fought the urge to run from the room. She shouldn’t have come. What if she didn’t like what the cards told her? She started to rise, but curiosity won out, and she settled stiff-backed in the chair.
Studying the center card the fortune-teller stated, “What you ask will be achieved.”
Alexa’s shoulders softened, and she hid a grin. This was good. It was what she wanted to hear.
Melina Odella held the second card. “But it will come at a price. Alexa, you will learn you cannot control everything in your life.”
A sudden chill swept the room, and Alexa shivered. Maybe she didn’t want to know what the cards would predict.
The third card lay in the fortune-teller’s hand. She raised her eyes. “You risk despair.”
Fiona scurried into Alexa’s pocket and hid, shivering.
As the chill deepened, Alexa’s resolve hardened. She had a plan, and she wouldn’t let fear sway her. She whispered, “I need a potion.”
“You’re too young for that potion.”
“Many girls are betrothed after the quest.”
“And many girls make that decision too early.” Melina Odella studied the three cards. “Are you certain of what you ask?”
Alexa nodded, and the fortune-teller stood and drifted through the red curtain. She returned and placed a small brown bottle, plugged with a cork, on the table in front of Alexa. “Mix half in a drink. Be sure he gazes in your eyes as he partakes, and he will love only you.”
“The other half?”
“So you, also, love only him.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Zander
Zander was free. No quester lesson, and Father was at the market for his weekly fur sales. Sometimes Zander helped, but they were short on pelts. He would hunt. He searched the village land, but as usual, found nothing except for young boys with make-shift bows who made enough noise to scare off the already too few animals.
He hiked to the dividing line and vaulted over the fence. Shadow slipped through the split wood rails. Together, they headed deep into the forest until Zander ascertained it was Elder Warrin’s land and not Elder Terrec’s. Of the five elders whose lands bordered the village, Elder Terrec was the harshest and Elder Warrin the kindest. Still, Zander would be careful. None of them approved of poachers.
He snorted and said to Shadow, “How do they expect the villagers to survive on what they find on the fringes of town?” Meat was a luxury for most of the poor. “But not Odo and Kaiya’s family, huh, Shadow? We make sure they eat well.” He left meat and bread twice a week for them and hadn’t been found out yet.
Zander caught a flash of red fur. A fox would make Father happy. He nocked an arrow and hesitated. The faint barking of dogs drifted from behind him. The fox disappeared. The elder who followed the hounds hunted it also. He scooped a fox token off the ground, knowing he didn’t deserve it, and searched for a place to hide. He tucked Shadow under his jacket, hoping the dogs would stay with the scent of the fox and ignore his, but when the barking pitched into a frenzy, Zander panicked. Had they tracked him? The racket ceased, and shouts rang out.
“Hoy! Grab him!”
When he realized it wasn’t him they were grabbing, Zander crept through the dried brush. Foxes didn’t get grabbed. People did. He shuddered when he spied Cobie thrashing against three Protectors. One man remained on his horse. The elder’s purple and gold tunic and fine saddle left no doubt to his status, but it was his demeanor Zander regarded. Elder Warrin sat relaxed in the saddle, chin high, and chest out. Confident.
On a black horse next to the elder, a boy smirked. It was Dharien. A random thought crossed Zander’s mind. What was Dharien’s patron? He’d seen all the others, but never Dharien’s.
One of the men yanked Cobie’s arms behind him and tied them with hemp. Another held his bow and quiver of arrows. “You won’t like the jail cell I’ll be taking you to for hunting Elder Warrin’s estate.”
Dharien snickered.
Zander fingered the wooden heart Melina Odella had given him the first day of class. He’d wrapped it with wire and run a plaited dried reed through it so he could wear the token hidden under his tunic. As he stroked it, calm seeped into his being. Taking a deep breath, Zander stepped into the clearing. The men turned toward him, but Zander sought the eyes of the man on horseback. He steeled himself for the secret, and then his stomach lurched. Elder Warrin’s secret revolved around covert negotiations for a new horse. It gave Zander nothing to bargain with for Cobie’s release. The elder’s heart was pure.
A Protector lunged toward Zander. Instinctively, Zander drew his bow. Shadow slipped from his coat and stood next to him. The pup’s hair bristled along his back.
With more bravery than he felt, Zander said, “Look at his clothes. He’s in his time of magic. Let the quest be his judge.”
The Protectors looked to Elder Warrin who turned to Dharien. “Is this true, Son?” Dharien nodded. The elder faced Zander. “Who are
you, who also wears the clothes of a quester and appears to hunt as well?”
“I am Zander, son of Theron, the furrier.” He lowered his bow, but kept the arrow nocked.
“Well, Zander, son of Theron, why should I not take you both to the court to be dealt with by the letter of the law?”
Lifting his bow, Zander aimed at Dharien, who paled. “If I am to lose my hand, I may as well lose my life, as hunting is my only pleasure.”
To his surprise, the elder chuckled. “Put down your bow. You have my word. You and your friend will be released with your hands intact.”
Thankful the elder hadn’t called his bluff, Zander lowered his bow. Because he had seen Elder Warrin’s heart, he trusted him. Zander tried not to laugh at the look of astonishment on Dharien’s face.
“Father, you can’t let them hunt our ground.”
“The forest holds plenty for the hungry poor.” Elder Warrin waved toward Cobie and ordered the men. “Unloose his hands, and return his bow.” To Zander, he said, “I think we’ve lost our fox. For sport, let’s see how you young men shoot.”
The Protectors marked three trees as targets. Elder Warrin clapped Dharien’s shoulder. “Don’t show off too much, Son.”
Dharien’s chest puffed, and he smirked at Zander and Cobie. The three strode twenty paces from the trees, bows in hand.
Elder Warrin called, “Take your mark.”
Confident in his aim, Zander shifted his bow to the left. He wouldn’t let the elder know of his skill at shooting. Elder Warrin would be happier if Dharien won, and Zander wanted to stay in his good graces, no matter how much he would have enjoyed beating Dharien.
“Release your arrows!”
Dharien let out a whoop as his arrow struck truest to the mark, almost on spot. Cobie’s hit two fingers to the right while Zander’s hit one finger to the left, as he’d planned.
“Fetch your arrows, boys. We have a contest!”
Three rounds in, Dharien led in hits. After the fourth round, Elder Warrin strode to Zander and turned him, forcing him to look in his eyes.
“It serves no one for a man to pretend to be less than he is. Do you think these Protectors would be so cowardly?”
Zander blushed and shook his head. The elder was observant if he caught him throwing the contest.
Clapping Zander’s shoulder, Elder Warrin declared, “The first four were practice rounds. Let the competition begin now.”
For the next ten rounds, Zander’s arrows flew true, hitting the mark dead on. With each hit, Dharien’s countenance grew darker until hatred flew like sparks from his eyes. Cobie shot well, beating Dharien on some rounds, but still ending last. Peacock omens for pride, scorpions for envy, and hornets for hatred fell like rain around the boys.
Elder Warrin laughed. “It seems you boys will be busy earning tokens to counteract all these omens.” He clapped Zander on the back. “I expect to watch you at the shooting match next month at the Festival of Victoria.”
“Only elders’ and Protectors’ sons are allowed to compete with the bow,” Zander responded. The rush of energy from winning pushed him to continue. “But maybe a man of your influence could arrange for two boys in their time of magic to join the competition?”
“Yes, I think I can arrange it.” The elder gazed from Cobie to Zander, and his face turned pensive. “You’re welcome to hunt my lands, but Elder Terrec’s lands adjoin mine. He will not be so generous. Stay far from his borders.”
Zander bowed his head. “Thank you, Sir. You are most kind.”
He left confident of two things. Elder Warrin respected his ability and maybe even liked him, and Dharien hated him more than ever.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Four and a Half Months until the Quest
Alexa
Clutching her bag, Alexa felt for the brown bottle nestled among the tokens and omens. The Festival of Victoria, the saint who sacrificed true love to save her people, would be the perfect time to use the potion, and although Alexa’s heart feared, her will remained strong.
She joined the other questers at the Quinary, eager to enjoy the celebration, but when Melina Odella’s gaze fell on Alexa, she remembered the warnings in the cards. You can’t control everything, it will come at a price, you risk despair.
After the priest cautioned against earning omens, Alexa moved with the others to the festivities. It was time. If she didn’t do it now, she might lose her nerve. Alexa lowered her lashes and smiled at Paal. “I’ll find drinks.”
Paal’s face lit. “Thanks, Alexa.”
As she crossed the market, the priest’s laughter rang out from the sausage stand. Alexa skirted around the side to find the cider and carried two mugs to an empty table. She turned to hide the brown bottle she pulled from her bag. Holding her breath, she struggled with the cork. Carefully, so as not to spill the precious liquid, Alexa poured half of the potion into each drink. The warning of the cards whispered through her head, you can’t control.
She dismissed the knot in the pit of her stomach. No matter how Alexa examined her circumstances, this was her chance for the life she wanted. She squared her shoulders and carried the drinks, weaving through the crowd, fearful of spilling.
The priest’s shadow fell across her, and he reached for a mug. Alexa stepped back, holding tight to the handle. His flashing eyes bore into hers. “Greed, Alexa? Not an omen to wish for, Child.”
He held out a snake omen, and Alexa stiffened. As he pulled the cup from her hand, his eyes narrowed at her shocked face. “Generosity cures greed,” he spat. He tossed the omen at her feet and then drained the cup as he strode toward the fortune-teller. His voice called out, “Melina Odella?”
The fortune-teller gazed past the priest, and met Alexa’s eyes. Alexa held up the single cup and shrugged. Melina Odella gasped.
Trembling, Alexa turned, unable to watch as the fortune-teller faced the priest. She hurried toward Paal. She could still give him the potion. She concentrated on the first card’s message—what you ask will be achieved.
Paal stood talking with Zander. “Thanks, Alexa. You only brought one?”
“Uh, I gave one to the priest.” You can’t control flowed through her head.
Zander glanced at Alexa. A dark shadow crossed his face. Why did she feel Zander peered into her soul each time their eyes met?
He stepped in front of Paal. “No.”
“Stay out of this, Zander,” Alexa hissed. It will come at a price.
“I can’t let you do this.”
When Zander reached for the mug, she twisted and knocked into Dharien.
“Thanks, Alexa.” Dharien smirked as he grabbed the mug from her hand and brought it to his lips.
“No!” Alexa yelled. You risk despair.
Zander pushed her from Dharien and grabbed for the mug.
Dharien turned and gulped the cider. His smug gaze softened at Alexa, and he beamed, reaching for her hand.
Alexa’s eyes flashed at Zander. “This is your fault! I hate you!” She snatched the hornet omen at her feet and stomped off. It will come at a price. You can’t control. You risk despair.
The premonition consumed Alexa. The cards had foretold she would achieve success, and an elder’s son had fallen in love with her.
But he was the wrong boy.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Zander
Zander pushed away the confusion he felt about Alexa. He’d been unsettled since seeing her plan on the first day of class. He shouldn’t care if she played games with Paal and Dharien. It wasn’t his fault the wrong boy drank the potion.
He scrutinized his arrows, checking the quills once again for damage. He had yet to decide if he would shoot to win, but they must fly true. His heart desired the championship, but his gut warned of danger. If he won and gained the respect of the elders, it could help him realize his dream, but it coul
d backfire if it angered them instead. Not listening to his gut usually ended in trouble.
Content with the state of the arrows, Zander strode to the competition with Shadow at his side. He and Cobie stood last in line at the check-in table. Zander’s shaking legs threatened to betray his nervousness, but when he noticed the sweat on Cobie’s forehead, he knew Cobie shared his fear. Never before had boys other than the elders’ and Protectors’ sons competed in the archery tournament. He didn’t expect the other competitors to welcome them. Dharien certainly wouldn’t. Zander spoke to reassure them both. “Elder Warrin gave his word we could compete.”
Cobie whispered, “Look at the others. They’ve trained for this. We’re illegal hunters.”
“We belong here as much as they do.” Zander reached down to pat Shadow. Now if only he could believe it himself. Nerves wouldn’t help him shoot straight.
The man at the registration table eyed them. “You’re not the sons of an elder or Protector.” He glared at Shadow. “No dogs allowed.”
“Elder Warrin gave his permission.” Zander pointed to the last two names scrawled on the list. “Our names are recorded there.” He tucked Shadow into his pack and grinned. “And this is not a dog.”
The man narrowed his eyes and waved them past. “Go on with you then.” He muttered as they left, “Looks like a dog.”
Zander trailed the others to the practice area where chaos slowly resolved into order. The younger boys, who had not yet completed the quest, moved into a group to the left of the viewing stands, while the older unmarried boys practiced behind. Zander set his pack in a shady corner and lifted the flap. “Stay boy,” he said to Shadow, and because the pup had learned his commands easily, Zander felt confident he’d be safe.