Gunnit bid farewell to his friends amongst the crew of Island Trader and settled his heavy rucksack on his back. The third mate had already given him detailed directions to the Courtyard of the Star and the Nargis Fountain. Although he again experienced the funny sensation of adjusting his balance to solid land, he headed up the hill with a mixture of nervousness at being in another strange land and confidence that the Spirits would guide his path.
The Fountain pulsed into an evening sky fading into pink. Gunnit stared at the arcing sprays and rainbows of mist, marveling at the sight for a long time. The last vendors closed up their carts and started to disperse. Soon he found himself alone except for a herd of begging children and a number of mean-eyed guards.
Since Saulė’s Mirror had shown him at the Fountain, Gunnit thought perchance the Fountain would tell him what to do next, but he heard only the sound of the water and the sniffles of the sickly children. As the last of the sunlight faded and the moons rose, he turned around to seek food and shelter for the night; one of the Green Isles sailors had recommended a particular lodging house as a cheap but safe place for a boy on his own.
But as Gunnit walked in the direction of one of the avenues heading away from the Courtyard, he felt a sudden discomfort in his left arm where the Bracelet rested. He cautiously took one more step, and the Bracelet tightened so much it hurt. When he turned back toward the Fountain the stricture loosened, allowing his blood to flow normally.
Each avenue Gunnit tried, the gold circlet squeezed him, telling him to desist. Finally, he understood he was supposed to stay by the Fountain.
Gunnit took off his rucksack. He had a decent supply of ship’s biscuits inside; he ate one with gulps of Fountain water to wash down its dry crumbles. As he munched, the ragged children cautiously crept close to him. He took out two more biscuits and offered one to a tangle-haired girl and the other to a hollow-cheeked boy. They snatched the offerings from his outstretched hands like feral dogs. But later, the girl returned, offering him a scrap of dirty blanket, which Gunnit accepted gratefully. He put on his extra shirt and threw the blanket around his shoulders against the cold. He leaned against the Fountain balustrade and dozed uncomfortably until morning.
He woke up to a clamor of young voices. “Did you bring us anything today?” Opening his eyes, he saw a stout older woman with a white lace collar and a blue feather on her cap.
The ragamuffins crowded round her basket as she pulled out scraps of food to feed them. She clucked over them while doing so. “Dovey, you’ve got to keep that cut clean, or it will fester. No, son, don’t short yourself to feed your brother: I’ve got enough for all today. Sweetie, let me see if your eye is better? Ah, much better, right? Now don’t forget to keep using them drops I got you from the Sorrowers.”
When her basket was empty, the children dispersed and the woman came to sit on the Fountain’s edge. The Bracelet gave Gunnit a sharp pinch then release, painful enough to make him jump to his feet.
“Excuse me. Dame?” He moved to stand in front of her. “I’m Gunnit. I wonder if I am supposed to meet with you?”
The woman looked at him in astonishment. “Meet with me? I don’t understand you, boy. I’m sorry, I’ve already handed out all the food I carried today.”
“I’m not hungry—well I am, but that’s not the point. I’m not one of those kids. I’m from Alpetar. They tell me I’ve been ‘kissed by the Sun.’”
He rolled up his sleeve to show her Saulė’s Bracelet. She traced the golden circle and stared at the dangling Sun charm, then quickly pulled his sleeve down.
“Who sent you?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
“Gardener and Peddler,” Gunnit answered. “And the Bracelet itself made me stay here to wait for you.”
“How did you know who I am?” she asked.
“I don’t know who you are; I just know I can trust you. Who are you, dame?”
“I’m Water Bearer. Why did Gardener and Peddler send you to me?”
“Because I’m brave,” Gunnit answered, pulling himself tall and puffing out his chest (just a little). “Because I can do things they can’t. Because I’m awfully fond of Finch. She saved us after the Oros raided Sweetmeadow, and I want to protect her.”
“Sweetmeadow? Finch? Lad, are you addled? Who’re you talking about?”
“They tell me she has a lot of names. But if you know Gardener and Peddler, you should know who I mean.”
The woman patted her own chest with a fluttering hand a few times and blew out a loud puff of air. “Ah, glory be to Nargis. An ally would be so useful. Especially one brave and favored by a Spirit.” She smiled and held out her hand. “I’m really called ‘Nana.’”
“Gunnit.” They shook hands.
“Do you have parents, Gunnit?”
“I have a ma, back in Cloverfield. Dame Saggeta and Aleen promised to watch out for her. But I’m here on my own.”
“Are you, now? Kind of young to be on your own, ain’t you?”
“No,” Gunnit contested. “Gardener said I’m grown beyond my years.”
“I’m sorry you had to grow up so fast,” said Nana. “Happens all the time”—she nodded toward the group of ragamuffins—“but it’s always a pity to miss a childhood.”
She cocked her head to one side. “I’m trying to think of a way to keep you close to me so we can work together. Are you good with horses?”
“Not really, Dame Nana. I learned how to ride, sort of. But I don’t know much about caring for them or training them. I’m very good with goats.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have any goats at the palace.” She paused and looked him up and down. “You’re a likely-looking boy, though. Or would be, dressed up. I might be able to convince Vilkit to take you on as a page.” Her voice got lower, as if she was thinking aloud, and she tapped her lips with two fingers. “He owes me for ferreting out that silverware thief. Aye, a page boy actually would be even better than the stables, because then you’d be inside the palace.”
“Inside the palace, Dame Nana?” said Gunnit. “Why would I want to be there?”
“Because that’s where I work.”
“Wouldn’t everybody be able to tell I’m unlettered? That I don’t know anything about fancy palace customs?”
“We train our pages; no one would expect much of a newcomer but listening hard and a smart hop when you get an order. And the palace, well—for sure—that is where ‘Finch’ will be coming, when she returns.”
“When will she be coming?”
“I don’t know,” said Nana, suddenly quite cross but not—Gunnit guessed—at him. “Here I am, here you are, both of us favored by the Spirits, and neither of us knows the only damn thing worth knowing. If you ask me, ’tis a damn foolish way to run things.”
She shook her fist at the Fountain. “You keep yer Agents in the dark and they’re liable to bump into things! Do you hear me, Nargis?”
“I serve the Spirit of the Sun, Dame Nana.” Gunnit loyally stood up for Saulė. “It makes light and sends darkness away. Gardener told me that Alpies are known for their ‘Optimism.’” He pronounced the last word carefully, proud of having learned it.
“That’s right,” she smiled. “Don’t mind me; I’m just old and kind of fretful. But the Spirits don’t give us sort any Magic; they just give us knowledge. Course I guess that knowing is a kind of Magic, but then they dole even that out like misers. Sometimes that makes me mad.”
Gunnit was trying to puzzle out her meaning when she spoke again.
“You hungry, Gunnit? Silly question, I know. What growing boy ain’t hungry? And then I’ve got to think of how to introduce you to Vilkit.… Can hardly be a country cousin with that shock of yellowish hair.
“Tell you what. Let’s stop by the abbey. I’ll give you a close haircut so it’s not so noticeable. And there’s someone there I want you to meet. I can already foresee how having you to run messages between us might be a Spirit-send.”