Tokens and Omens

by Jeri Baird

  She thought of Dharien. If he found her, and she was sure he would, he’d want to buy her sweets or hold her hand. And then there was Merindah. She was probably with Kaiya. It wouldn’t be any fun without Merindah to laugh with and eat candies until they earned a pig omen for overindulgence.

  She wandered downstairs to the kitchen. She was right, Mother had gone, but her yellow canary serenaded Alexa from the cage that hung next to the front window. Alexa wasn’t sure how the patron helped Mother with her baking. Maybe the bird’s singing inspired her.

  Alexa’s stomach grumbled from fasting the day before. She wasn’t going to earn a butterfly that day. She slathered butter on a roll, and remembered the red-haired boy who had helped her find Melina Odella’s house. If he hadn’t shown up, she wouldn’t have found it, and she wouldn’t be in the mess she was in now.

  A knock at the door startled her. Maybe Merindah had come to find her. When she yanked the door open, an old crone with sparkling emerald eyes, stood outside.

  She handed Alexa a brown wooden spider. “Don’t blame others for your mistakes, Alexa.”

  As Alexa stood gaping, the old woman disappeared. Moira. Alexa’s stomach lurched. She wasn’t doing a good job of staying on Fate’s good side when twice she’d personally delivered an omen.

  Her appetite left with Moira. Alexa tossed what was left of the roll in the trash bin. She remembered how thin Zeph had been and the gleam in his eyes when she’d given him one roll. She’d forgotten her pledge to take bread to the kids in the shack houses. None of those kids would have any coins to spend at the festival. She didn’t have time to make yeast rolls, but she could bake biscuits. It wouldn’t take much flour, and she was sure Mother wouldn’t mind. She’d make sugar biscuits with a little bit of cinnamon. She didn’t have to be an elder’s wife to do that.

  Fiona chased round stones across the floor as Alexa added wood to the coals in the oven and fanned them to flames. Then she measured out flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt. She cut in lard and stirred in goat’s milk until the ingredients stuck together. She dumped the dough out on a floured counter and kneaded the lump for three turns before she rolled it to a one-inch thick slab. She used a metal ring to cut out circles of dough, placed them on baking sheets, and sprinkled a mix of cinnamon and sugar across the top. She couldn’t stop smiling, imagining the surprise she’d bring to those kids.

  As she cleaned the kitchen and waited for the fire to die down in the oven, a carved turtle token appeared on the table. In this case, patience did pay off.

  Alexa baked four dozen biscuits to a light golden brown and hoped it would be enough. For the first time in a long time, she enjoyed the smell of bread. When they cooled, she layered them in a basket, pulled on a hooded tunic, and slipped out the back door, away from the festival.

  The first person she found at the shacks was Zeph.

  “Hey, I remember you,” he said. “Did you find what you wanted with the fortune-teller?”

  “Kind of.” Alexa held out a biscuit. “I brought treats. Will you help me pass them out?”

  He shoved half the biscuit in his mouth and mumbled, “Sure.” He stopped with Alexa at the first house.

  “Hey, Lorna. Want a biscuit?”

  A little girl with stringy blond hair peeked out the doorway. Her face lit when Zeph handed her the treat. A younger brother stood behind her clutching her legs.

  Alexa knelt. “Here’s one for you too.”

  He tucked his head into his sister’s back, but held out a hand. When Alexa laid a biscuit in it he disappeared into the dark of the house.

  It didn’t take long to pass out the treats. After the final shack, three remained in Alexa’s basket.

  “Here, Zeph. You can have the rest.”

  He stepped back and stared at Alexa. “Why’d you bring them?”

  “I . . . I thought you’d like them. With the festival and all, I didn’t think you probably got to go.”

  Zeph reached in the basket and took out the biscuits. “I’ll share these with Lorna. They never have enough to eat.” He headed to the first house and then turned to Alexa. “I forgot to say thanks.”

  A lump formed in Alexa’s throat. She managed to croak out, “You’re welcome, Zeph,” before she ducked her head to hide her tears. Zeph had to be hungry too and yet he was willing to share. She had to do this again. And soon.

  As Alexa walked the path home, another joined her.

  “This,” an old woman rasped, “is why I designed the quest. You’ve learned to use your talents to help others.” Moira tapped the basket. “Look inside.” And then she was gone.

  When Alexa checked the basket, a dove and four small bread tokens nestled in a pile. The dove would vanquish the spider she earned earlier, and the bread meant she wouldn’t go hungry in the quest. When she needed them, each would turn into a real loaf of bread. She smiled. That was good, but the way her heart filled with happiness was better yet.

  That night, Moira’s words haunted Alexa. She had a talent besides baking. She slept that night with her newest stitching beneath her pillow. When she woke, she folded the scene and placed it in her bag. Anxious to see if the cloth would affect the actions of the others as she hoped, she hurried to the church. If it worked, what else could she do with her favor?

  At the church, Alexa slipped into a seat around a wooden table new to the room. Dharien sauntered towards her and then stopped. His eyebrows pulled together, and he appeared puzzled. He tried to step closer, but the fence she’d stitched appeared to be working. He gave up and sulked to a seat at the far side of the table.

  Merindah entered with the peasant cousins and slid into a seat next to Alexa. She whispered,

  “I missed you at the festival. I’m sorry I got mad.”

  For the first time, Zander didn’t barge in last. He plopped into a seat next to Dharien and then seemed surprised to be sitting next to him. Paal wandered around the room before taking the final seat. Alexa couldn’t hide her smile. Her stitching worked.

  The priest began. “Pull out your tokens and omens. Today we‘ll study your possible scenarios.”

  Zander dumped his bag, and the rest of the class grew silent. He had the most thorns, but they wouldn’t kill him in the quest. His pile of tokens dwarfed everyone else’s. When Zander blushed and fiddled with his journal, Alexa wondered how he’d earned so many. She wasn’t alone. Kaiya and Odo gazed at his tokens and exchanged whispers behind their hands.

  Melina Odella surveyed the group. “Today, we’ll practice with what you’ve earned. Consider your omens, and choose tokens you think can counteract them.”

  Alexa arranged her omens and tokens as best she could. Melina Odella had said the butterfly would banish the pig. She sniffed. She couldn’t imagine how it would work. She set the turtle token next to the three hornet omens. “Father? Will the turtle eat more than one hornet?”

  He walked over and pulled two of the hornets to the side. “One turtle, one hornet, Alexa. It seems you need to practice patience.” He patted her head and smiled. “You have plenty of time to earn more.”

  He must not know about the potion. At least he wasn’t mad at her. Melina Odella was still shooting darts from her eyes. Patience wasn’t Alexa’s best trait, but she would try to earn more turtles. She hated being stung. One dove and two scorpions. She could be kind. It shouldn’t be hard to earn another dove or two. She needed to earn more butterflies. A shudder ran down her spine at the thought of fighting a pig without help. She set a goal to fast one day a week. It wouldn’t be easy since she lived in a bakery. The bread tokens she set aside. Food would help her stay strong during the quest.

  Dharien scowled across the table. His pile held multiple scorpions, peacocks, and hornets. She spied at least four pigs, but no butterflies. The tokens he had now wouldn’t come close to fighting his omens. Maybe the quest would take care of her problem with Dh
arien. She gasped at her thought. She didn’t want him to die. She’d figure out another way to fix the mess. She didn’t want any of them to die in the quest.

  Dharien noticed her stare and cocked his head at Zander’s tokens. “He cheats even at this.” he muttered.

  Zander ignored him, but his cheeks flushed.

  For the remainder of the morning, Alexa discussed potential strategies with Merindah and wrote the possibilities in her journal. Merindah had few omens and all the tokens she needed to fight them. Typical.

  Her head pounded from the scenarios, and relief filled her when the noon bell rang. Alexa smiled as Zander bolted from the room and Dharien followed as if pulled by an invisible string.

  Merindah touched her sleeve. “Still friends?”

  Nodding, Alexa kept her embroidery hidden. Merindah wouldn’t approve, and Alexa didn’t want to jeopardize their shaky friendship. They discussed their tokens as they strolled through the market. Alexa spent the afternoon helping her mother in the bakery before she sought her room. She earned another turtle token by caring for a crying baby while his frazzled mother chose her bread. Alexa wasn’t sure she wanted to be a mother. Babies required a lot of patience.

  With the success of the stitchery, she had another idea. She selected a large ivory cloth and cut a circle. In the quiet of her mind, Alexa began to stitch, starting with the brown and gray Quinary in the middle and then beginning the green forest around the edges. This project would take awhile. She aimed to stitch a likeness of the village and add each student. She didn’t know her intention yet, but she felt it would be useful. Moira told Alexa to use her talents to help others. Maybe she could control the quest so no one would die this year. She might even help Dharien.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Zander

  After class, Zander bolted from the church. Exhausted from the morning games of strategy, he grabbed his new bow and hiked into the forest. He didn’t like everyone in class seeing his tokens and omens. He was surprised no one earned a scorpion for envy. Dharien scowled at him all through class and then followed him after dismissal as if he couldn’t help himself.

  Anger danced through his thoughts like flames licking at wet wood. If he wasn’t careful, it could consume him, and he needed a clear head. He tried stuffing the anger deep into the hollow of his gut, but it wouldn’t stay. The hornet omen that flew into his chest only made him angrier. Rubbing the heart token hidden under his tunic didn’t calm him. Neither did Shadow.

  During the festival, he’d learned that Dharien, as a second son, would apprentice with the Protectors. Could he train beside a boy who hated him for no other reason than Zander being a peasant?

  Zander didn’t know what to think of Greydon’s secret. Zander respected him and would enjoy having him as a friend, but what if Greydon liked him for more? Zander’s favor for seeing secrets had been helpful, but he’d be better off if he didn’t know them. He still couldn’t look Father in the eye, and Zander had no idea who the woman was he’d seen in the vision.

  Finding no game, Zander pushed deeper into the forest. Thoughts rolled unbidden through his head, distracting him as he trailed a deer. He felt like ants crawled over his body. Alexa had stared at him during class. Was she still blaming him because Dharien had taken the potion? What was Alexa thinking? She was pretty enough to find a boyfriend without tricking him. Now that Zander knew Paal better, he didn’t think Dharien or Paal were good enough for Alexa, but she’d wanted Paal. Zander would have to fix his mistake.

  His head pounded. Father was right to live away from the villagers. Zander was happier when he didn’t have to spend time with the questers and their secrets. Even Melina Odella had been in a bad mood all morning. Next to her, the priest had seemed nice, and it had been one of the rare days he hadn’t given Zander a thorn omen. Maybe he’d seen the pile Zander already had and realized Zander had enough.

  As he shook his head to push away the thoughts, rustling leaves made Zander turn, expecting to see a deer. Instead, Dharien, Lash, and Elder Terrec glared at him from their horses.

  Zander swung around. He must have wandered out of Elder Warrin’s land.

  The man scowled. Short in statue and pocked in the face, his thinning red hair showed his age. When he spoke, his voice rang out deep and accusing. “You know the consequences of hunting my land.”

  Grateful for the lack of prey, Zander lifted his arms to show no carcasses at his side. “I have no game. I’m practicing with my new bow.” He whispered to Shadow, “Go home, boy and stay.” The coyote obeyed immediately and disappeared into the trees.

  Anger twisted Elder Terrec’s face. “You hold a bow you don’t deserve.” He sneered. “I know full well you intend to hunt. Dharien tells me you traipse across his father’s land. Elder Warrin is a fool to allow it. I am no fool.”

  In his eyes, Zander noted Elder Terrec delighted in cruelty. The elder’s men grabbed Zander’s arms and stripped him of the bow. As he struggled, one of the men clubbed him in the head. Zander fell to his knees, and his face scraped across the dirt.

  Elder Terrec’s deep laugh echoed across the gulch as the men yanked Zander’s hands behind him and tied them with thick hemp rope. One man handed Zander’s bow and arrows to the Terrec, who passed them to Lash.

  “You won’t need this when you’ve only one hand,” Terrec spat.

  As the men dragged Zander away, he glanced behind him. Elder Terrec and Lash gloated. Dharien’s face darkened in confusion. Zander puzzled over it, even as he feared what came next.

  At the jail, the men handed Zander over to the guard who tossed him into the dark cell. Zander gasped at the ragged clothes and gaunt bodies of the other men. They appeared to have been imprisoned for a long time.

  As he stood between a dirt wall and the iron gate, trying to avoid the stink of unwashed bodies mixed with wet earth, Zander pressed his face against the bars. Elder Terrec would push for the full extent of the law, and the courts would not go easy on him. He could lose his hand. If he didn’t bleed out, he still might not heal before the quest. And even if he did heal, could he survive the quest without it?

  Oddly, in the dark cell, Zander found what he had sought in the forest. His mind became clear. If he survived with his hand, he would strive to become a Protector. He’d make peace with Dharien, if needed, to achieve his goal. No matter how long it took, he’d work his way to the top of the order. He’d practice harder and longer, and he’d cultivate Greydon’s friendship. One day, Greydon would rule in Elder Warrin’s place. Changes needed to be made in how the peasants were treated. As a Protector, Zander would work to make life better for the poor. Maybe Puck’s ghost spoke the truth. Maybe he could unite the tribes.

  What he could do for Alexa was still cloudy. He could ask Melina Odella for help. She made potions and spells. The fortune-teller liked him. He’d work to get the priest on his side too—if he got out of jail before the quest. He could end up like the men surrounding him.

  Hours later, his head pounded from thinking. When he could no longer ignore the moans of a man hunched in the corner, Zander covered his nose with his sleeve and inched towards him. He eyed the man sitting across the cell, whose vacant eyes stared at nothing. Zander knelt and lifted the sick man’s head. He shared water from the flask on his belt. A tiny replica token appeared at his feet.

  After he drank, the man grabbed Zander’s tunic and wrenched him close to his face. The man trembled as he spoke. “Secrets surround you.” Zander stared into dark eyes belying any sanity, and the man wheezed. “Beware the person you trust.” Released from the compulsion to share the prophecy, the man collapsed.

  Scrambling across the cell, Zander tried to still the adrenaline racing through his body. He rubbed the heart token Melina Odella gave him the first day of class until his racing blood slowed. Near dawn, he heard a yip. “Shadow!” The pup squeezed between the bars and licked at Zander’s face. Zander
laughed and hugged the coyote. With the comfort of his patron, Zander fell into a fitful sleep. He woke to shouting in the alley.

  “Bring me the boy or you’ll regret your miserable life!”

  Keys rattled and the iron door clanked open. Burly arms grabbed him, pulled him down the dark alley, and shoved him into the street. Zander slumped to his knees, while closing his eyes against the assault of the sunlight. He whispered to Shadow, “Go home.”

  Elder Warrin barked at the jailer. “Here are the papers. Release this boy into my custody. I’ve paid his bail.”

  The jailer pulled Zander to his feet and left him standing in front of the elder.

  “Sir?” Zander asked, removing his hand from his eyes, but still squinting. “How did you find me?”

  “I overheard Dharien bragging about leading Terrec to you. Greydon would have come himself if I hadn’t stopped him. I left him to deal with Dharien. Didn’t I warn you of Elder Terrec?”

  “Yes, Sir, I’m sorry you’ve been troubled. I will repay you, Sir.”

  “You’re right. You will repay me by serving in my house.” Elder Warrin crossed his arms over his chest and smiled.

  Zander stepped back, stunned. Even a servant in a elder’s house had a better life than his, but he had no plans to serve. There had to be another way to repay him.

  “Don’t look so alarmed, Zander.” Elder Warrin chuckled. “You’ll find your duties to your liking. I need someone with your shooting skill to accompany me on my hunts. I’ll use your talents well.”

  As his shoulders relaxed, Zander unclenched fists he didn’t realize were tight.

  “Come, we’ll talk to your father. I’m sure he’ll agree to my proposal.”