Having a badge and getting into the Tverdal fair had been easy for Thorval, but locating his daughter had been more difficult. He had had to time wandering through the area where many of the rovers had set up their booths when there were large crowds. He worried that someone might recognize him, even though he was dressed as a common day laborer and had grown a beard and mustache, which to his disgust had come in salt and pepper. Some days he did not feel old enough to have a grown daughter, but lately he had felt he was way too old for this cloak and dagger existence he was presently living. He had been somewhat panicked when he did not find his daughter among the rovers, worried that something had happened to her. Thorval had gained no information from Casper the blacksmith, for they had had no time to talk, nor had he had any time to talk with Mistress Fern. He knew the Regent’s agents and others were out looking for him, and yet, he felt he needed to risk one more try to find Arial at the fair.
Thorval had figured if Arial were at the fair and not with the rovers, she might have set up her booth near other woodworkers, but was again disappointed in not locating her there. He was just about to give up when he saw Mistress Fern turn down the lane directly in front of him. Fortunately, he was standing in the shadow of a massive pine, and he did not think she, or the woman who accompanied her, had seen him. He was just about to step out onto the lane when he noticed a man following the two women and decided to wait. He watched as Mistress Fern stopped at each booth and checked out the wares. This was the glassmakers’ lane and he did not know if following her down it would gain him any information. He knew his chances of contacting her were negligible if the dour-faced woman continued to stick by her side and scan the crowd, not to mention being noticed by the man who was following them.
“You there, laborer, you here to work, or are you just going to rest in the shade?” said a voice from behind Thorval, giving him quite a start, though he tried not to show it.
Thorval turned around and looked up at a giant of a man wearing the garb and crest that identified him as a master glassmaker. It would raise questions if he were to refuse a reasonable offer of work, so he answered, “Work, Master Glassmaker.”
“Good. I’m Master Rollag and I need help packing several wagons. Not heavy work mind you, but delicate. Can you drive a wagon?”
“Yes sir, I’m an experienced driver,” Thorval answered carefully, not wanting to commit himself to anything until he knew what was in the wind.
“Well then, come with me. There are several wagonloads worth of glass that have to be wrapped, boxed, and loaded. We need to pick up several new teams of horses the guild bought at the horse sales and bring them back. Then, if I like your work, there may be long term work in this. We lost one of our best drivers this day. Dumb fool was showing off for the ladies and jumped off the wagon before it came to a complete stop. Broke his leg. He’s lucky he didn’t break his fool neck, or I didn’t. He was one of my long haul drivers who traveled from fair to fair with us. He was scheduled to take a load to Crestbury, the fair after next, with a side stop at Drummel Keep to deliver a special order. You look old enough that you won’t be jumping off a moving wagon to impress the ladies.”
“Don’t your guild members usually drive their own wagons?” Thorval asked, trying to contain his excitement. This job would give him an identity and a way of crossing the country, bringing him closer to the capitol with each passing day, and provide him a chance to enter the fairs and find Arial.
“Aye, usually, but the journeyman who will be traveling on this wagon is totally inept when it comes to horses and wagons. Gifted when it comes to glass, but a disaster when it comes to driving a wagon.”
“Sounds like an interesting job. Let’s see if we like each other at the day’s end then,” Thorval said, and hoped by the end of the day he would know what to say if he were offered the job.
He was disturbed that he was not able to follow Mistress Fern, but perhaps that was for the best, so he followed Master Rollag behind the glassworks. Behind the Glassmakers Guildhall, several long tables were set up, and packing crates and packing materials were stacked next to them. Several journeymen, journeywomen, and apprentices were carrying a variety of glass items out of the hall and gently setting them on the table.
The job was not hard, and while the alertness and tension of being sought by the Regent’s agents never left, for the first time in weeks, Thorval found himself able to relax just a little bit. It felt good to be working with his hands again, and he had not realized how much he had missed it. After several long hours, a halt had been called to the work for a tea or water break. The rest of the workers had gone inside, but Thorval had chosen to stay outside. He was leaning against the back of the guildhall in the deep shadow of an overhang to get some relief from the sun when he looked up and there was his daughter walking not fifty feet away. He watched her take a quick glance around before looking at something in her hand, and she did not spot him. What was she doing here? he wondered.
As he was debating whether to cross the yard and try to make contact with her, those he had been working with came back out of the guildhall and the opportunity was lost. Shortly thereafter, Master Rollag came up to the tables with a young lad and motioned to Thorval to come out from behind the table.
“Time to go pick up the horses. I want you to go with young Evan here. He’s good with horses, coming as he did from a farm that breeds them. He was there when we bid and bought them, so I want him to check them out to make sure we’re getting the ones we paid for,” Master Rollag said.
Thorval was only half listening for he was filled with joy that his daughter was alive and well. He was also wondering what she was doing behind the Glassmakers Guildhall. He was brought out of his musings when asked a question by the young apprentice.
“So what should I call you?” asked Evan. “I can’t just say ‘hey worker’ for the entire time we are looking over the horses and bringing them back.”
“Jonzee, I go by Jonzee,” Thorval answered.
“Well then, Jonzee, do you know horses?” Evan asked.
“Aye lad, been behind a few of them in my day,” Thorval said. “Will you be driving one of these teams?”
“I’m not sure. All the other apprentices have been assigned, but Master Rollag hasn’t told me where, or with whom, I am to go next. I think several of the journeymen and journeywomen are up to being tapped as Masters, and I could be assigned to one of them. I’m hoping Journeywoman Clarisse is one of them. I would really like to travel and learn from her, but . . .” Evan trailed off.
“But what? Are you sweet on her?” Thorval teased.
“Journeywoman Clarisse? No, she’s old, but she always seems to be going interesting places and traveling with interesting folks. Right now, she’s traveling with a trader couple and some rovers. I kind of like rover Nissa,” Evan said shyly.
“And what’s so special about this Nissa lass?” Thorval asked, noticing Evan had turned several shades of red.
“Well, she’s just nice to me, and besides being a good woodworker, she carves these really silly creatures, and she makes me laugh. She has a hunting cat named Carz. She doesn’t treat me like I am a wee lad but more like an equal, and she’s, well, she’s pretty,” Evan answered, turning an even darker shade of red.
It was all Thorval could do not to fire question after question at Evan about his daughter, but that would look odd, even to one as young as Evan. He could only hope he would get the job with the Glassmakers Guild which might allow him to both travel more safely and learn more. In the meantime, perhaps he could learn just a little more from Evan. Thorval decided he needed to change the subject, so he asked Evan about the horses they were going to pick up.
“Oh, they’re grand. Not beautiful, mind you, but sturdy and will pull a wagon from here to the capitol and back without even flicking an ear.”
“They must be grand indeed,” Thorval said with a chuckle. “Is this the breed of horse the Glassmakers Guild usually buys?”
“Well,” Evan said thoughtfully, “usually such a good bargain doesn’t come along like this, but Journeywoman Clarisse has a pair of them and knows Farmer O’Gara. She talked with Master Rollag about the horses and Farmer O’Gara’s difficulties.”
“Difficulties?”
“Yeah, see, Farmer O’Gara, who brought the horses in, had an overly large herd, and with the new licensing fees the Regent imposed, had to thin his herd in order to pay the increase. Put a world of hurt into his breeding program, but it was probably the lesser of two evils. Either sell off some of the horses or lose the farm. The guild thought they would be a good investment and actually bought them before the fair had hardly opened. The guild offered a rather sweet deal to Farmer O’Gara.”
“Oh?” Thorval inquired.
“Said they would use the horses in the traveling months, and then bring the mares back to Farmer O’Gara to be bred. They would then take a few horses each year in exchange. That way we get great horses and Farmer O’Gara gets to continue his breeding program. Both of us win.”
And the Regent does not, Thorval thought to himself. Oh, the Regent would get the licensing fees but would not get the farm to add to the growing amount of land he was acquiring because many independent small landholders were stretched too thin to have the coin to pay. The Regent would have a harder time hurting the large landholders, but they would be affected also. Right now, the climate in Sommerhjem was like a slow simmer over a flame, but eventually it would boil over, and that needed to be prevented. The Glassmakers Guild was saving one farm, and some of the larger landholders, like Lord Hadrack of Glendalen Keep, were putting pressure on the Crown, but that was not going to be enough. And then there was the problem of the growing anger, or dislike, of the Princess due to her perceived lack of interest in her subjects. For the good of Sommerhjem, Thorval needed to get to the capitol safely, so he had better be really good as a day laborer and get this job.
Thorval and Evan had no trouble picking up the horses, and they were as grand as Evan had described. Not great beauties, tall and strong, a russet color with white tail and mane, broad of chest and strong of shoulder, these horses would pull a heavy load for long distances without tiring. Two of these beauties could take a rover across the land and back, Thorval thought wistfully. His Flick and Clover surely would not measure up to these teams.
It felt easier moving through the crowded lanes of the fair leading several pairs of horses, looking as if he belonged. While Thorval did not let his guard down, nor relax to the point that he thought his present position was an impenetrable disguise, it was the first time in weeks that he breathed a little easier. As Evan and he turned onto the Glassmakers Guild’s lane and headed for the hall, he almost pulled the horses to a stop when he saw Arial sitting in her booth dickering with a customer. She is a natural, he thought to himself with no little pride. Seeing her here sharing a booth with a glassmaker went a long way in explaining why he had had such a difficult time locating her.
He did not want to attract her attention right now, so he pulled his hat a bit lower on his head and walked the horses on by. Once the horses were settled in their area, groomed and fed, it was past closing time for the fair. Thorval had just finished checking the last hoof of the last horse to make sure there were neither cracks nor caught stones when Master Rollag walked up.
“Ach, they’re a fine small herd of horseflesh, aren’t they?” Master Rollag said, while running his hands down the withers of the horse Thorval was checking. “And a fine partnership we have formed with Farmer O’Gara. I am sure Evan has filled you in. He has told me you are good with the horses, and Master Meriter told me you did a fine job with the packing of the glass, so if you are interested in the job of driver, it’s yours.”
“I’d be grateful for the job, Master Rollag,” answered Thorval. “Times being what they are, it’s hard to get any long term jobs.”
“Can you be packed and ready to leave at dawn?”
“I travel very light and have but one pack . . .,” Thorval had begun to say when he was interrupted by a journeywoman.
“Excuse me,” Journeywoman Clarisse said politely, “if I may interrupt briefly.” She turned to Master Rollag and said “Nissa and I are heading back to camp if you do not need me for anything more. Oh, you have picked up Farmer O’Gara’s horses. You will not be disappointed with them.”
“I’m sure we won’t be, and no, I do not need you for anything more, but I do have a favor to ask of you,” Master Rollag stated. “Please don’t come in tomorrow morning with tales of blueberry pie, tarts, or crumble from that delightful place you are camping, for my heart just cannot stand it.”
“Oh, that was subtle,” Journeywoman Clarisse said laughingly, as she waved over her shoulder and walked off.
“Ah, were I but twenty years younger, but then we were discussing your future and not my fantasies. You are welcome to bunk down at the guildhall and eat here. Let me set you up with our storeroom keeper, and he will outfit you with livery, a cloak, rain gear, and other items you will need. I’ll send Evan down right now to help you carry it and stow it in the wagon you will be driving. He can also acquaint you with where tents, cook gear, and other necessities are packed in the wagon. As I said, the journeyman you will be transporting along with glass is highly gifted in artistic glass, but totally inept when it comes to driving, horses, and living on the road. You will find he’s very absent-minded and likely to spend his entire ride trying to sketch whatever catches his fancy, or just wander off from lunch if something in a field attracts his eye. You’ll need to keep a close eye on him and be very firm, that no, you can’t stop for a day so he can sketch a millwheel or a petunia, and no, you can’t stay another day waiting for the sun to be at just the right angle on the dew on the spider web. You may have to repeat a number of times that you have a schedule to keep. Are you up to the challenge?”
“Should I be asking for extra pay then?” Thorval replied.
“We’ll see how it goes. I will be at the Crestbury fair, and we can discuss it then,” answered Master Rollag.
Thorval met with the storeroom keeper and left wearing the livery of the Glassmakers Guild and carrying the papers and other items of identification as one Jonzee Smed. He worked with Evan checking the wagon for supplies and discovered the former driver had not been very careful with the equipment, plus had been neither clean nor tidy. It took several trips back to the storeroom, and way past dark, before everything was ready for the next day, and Thorval still had two more tasks before he could sleep.
Thorval walked out of the fairgrounds, and the guards at the gate did not even give him a passing glance, nor did the ones at the gates into the town. Just a few blocks in from the main gate, he ducked into a narrow passage between two houses. He swiftly pulled himself up into a small niche that had been formed when the house fronting the street had built an addition which almost touched the house behind it. It was here Thorval had been staying and had stashed his belongings. He quickly grabbed his small pack and carefully made his way down the passage. He did not want to be discovered at this point, so he waited patiently until a group of folks heading towards the town gate passed by him. He slipped in behind them, with his pack tucked under his cloak, should the guards at the gate take note of him.
Once Thorval passed through the town gates, instead of returning to the fair, he took a chance and headed down the road. There was only one place he could think of that was a “delightful” camping place in these parts that Arial might also have recognized, and he hoped it was the place where she was staying. Once near the campground he always thought of as the Neebing grove, for it was here he had first taught his daughter about those elusive creatures, he skirted the road, found the stream he remembered, and followed it to the grove of trees.
Ah, he thought, she had done an admirable job of disguising the homewagon. But nothing would disguise old Flick and Clover. He worried for a moment that they would catch his scent and recognize him, but fortunately he was downwind. Across the way he could see several men just getting up from their campfire and with a start recognized both of them. This is not good, he thought, and worked his way back upstream to find a safe spot where he could rewrite his note to Arial. He needed to warn her of the two men who were dressed as farmers, but who he knew were very far from that. Thankfully, the moon came out from behind the clouds to give him enough light to write by. He then returned to the woods behind the campsite. Just as he was quietly waiting behind a tall thick-trunked pine and surveying the campsite to see if anything stirred, a paw settled on his arm. A furred head butted his shoulder almost knocking him to the ground.
“Carz, old friend, quiet now. Can’t have you giving me away,” Thorval whispered, reaching up to scratch the hunting cat behind the ears. “Will you guard for me?”
The hunting cat seemed to understand. Thorval slipped silently from the deep dark of the trees to slide under the homewagon and opened the Neebing door to find that Arial had left a gift for the Neebings just as he had taught her. Knowing he did not have time to be sentimental, he quickly exchanged what he had brought for the gift she had placed there and closed the Neebing door. Thorval then slipped back into the woods, but before he left, he found the huge tree he had once told his daughter was a Neebing tree and placed her gift on the lowest branch. Taking a chance, he whispered an apology to the Neebings along with a plea that they accept this gift and leave what he had placed in their room in his daughter’s homewagon.
Giving Carz one last pat on his head, Thorval reluctantly headed back to the fairgrounds to get what little sleep he could before dawn broke. He had not wanted to burden his daughter, but traveling with others and being part of a crew, while giving him a grand disguise, would also expose him to more folks, and he had not wanted to take the chance that what he carried would be discovered by accident. The fairgrounds guards were not very effective at this late hour, being asleep, and did not even note Thorval’s passing.
Dawn arrived way too soon, and before the birds had even begun to sing in a new day, Thorval had been introduced to Journeyman Mikkel, harnessed and hitched up the horses, and was waiting for last minute instructions. Master Rollag came up, gave him clear directions as to where he was to go, when they were expected, and wished them a good journey. With that Thorval flicked the reins and headed out.
Master Rollag watched until the wagon was out of sight and then turned and headed back towards the guildhall, a satisfied smile hovering at the corners of his lips. What great luck to have been on the lane and seen the day laborer beneath the big pine. A good disguise, he thought, but you don’t ever forget the shape and walk of the man who once saved your life, no matter the passing of many years.