The night before the fair closed was a difficult one, knowing that those I had traveled and camped with for the last fortnight would be going in different directions in the morning. I had grown fond of the Jalcones and would miss Trader Jalcones’ steadying presence and Mistress Jalcones’ cooking and warmth. I would miss both the rover families, for there is great solace to be found in the company of those of like custom.
Take Neebings for instance. Oscar, Bertram, and their families put out gifts for the Neebings each night as did I. While we did not talk about whether the gifts were picked up or traded, for that would have been a breach of rover etiquette, they would never laugh at me or suggest I was foolish to do so. The Glendalen fairgrounds did not appear to be a place Neebings frequented. Each morning before opening my booth I had checked the Neebing room, but the gift I had left was still there. I could understand why Neebings might not like the open fields and the crowds of the fair, but for some unexplainable reason I felt a bit adrift, and somewhat less, oh I do not know, secure maybe. I know that sounds a bit foolish coming from someone who is still not quite convinced Neebings are real. At least my head is not convinced, but I think my heart wants them to exist.
By just an hour after sunrise, the wagons were closed up and battened down for the road, the carts were hooked up, and the horses hitched. Goodbyes and hugs had been given all around, and there were no more excuses for delay. I had hoped Beezle would come by to see us off, but as the wagons began to roll out of the fairgrounds, he still had not appeared. I was surprised at how disappointed I was that he had not shown up, but then shook off the mood as foolishness. I was sure he had important tasks to do for his uncle now that he was back at Glendalen Keep.
Carz jumped through the door of the homewagon onto the seat beside me as we passed through the last gate and onto the royal road heading towards Crestbury. The journey would be an easy one, for Crestbury was only a day and a half ride from Glendalen. The road traveled through the broad valley both towns occupied. While grateful for Carz’ company next to me, once again I was traveling with a non-conversationalist. The travel was slow but steady, with a great many wagons, horses, and walkers on the road, all traveling either home from the Glendalen fair or traveling on to the Crestbury fair. I hoped the day’s journey would go smoothly, and there would be no roadblocks to contend with. I was glad that Master Clarisse and Evan were in the wagon ahead of me.
Once again, upon arriving at the Crestbury fairgrounds, I had the great good fortune to have my booth assigned a spot next to Master Clarisse’s booth. I soon fell into the routine of working to keep my stock up, waiting on customers, watching Master Clarisse’s booth when she and Evan took some time off, and also watching the crowds closely for Da. The daytime went by swiftly, but I did not look forward to the blowing of the end of the fair day horn, for I found I missed my companions from the road more than I thought I would. Our campfire that first night seemed empty with only Master Clarisse, Evan, and I. I did not realize how comfortable I had become with, or how comforting it was to have, the Jalcones and the two rover families close by. I found myself especially missing Beezle.
On the second day of the fair, I was surprised when I looked up and saw Master Rollag at Master Clarisse’s booth. He called a greeting over to me and then asked Master Clarisse if she had seen Journeyman Mikkel.
“I had expected that he might have arrived before me, but I know he can get distracted by the smallest of things. His new driver probably has lost one or more days just redirecting him back to the wagon after each stop,” Master Rollag said with a chuckle in his voice. “If anyone ever needed a keeper, it’s that lad. There is no denying that he is brilliantly creative, and none can surpass him in the art of installing large glass pieces. It just amazes me he can be so focused when working on a piece and so unfocused the rest of the time.”
“He has a new driver?” Master Clarisse inquired.
“Fellow by the name of Jonzee Smed. I was lucky to find him,” stated Master Rollag. “Chanced upon him at the Tverdal fair. Knew him from a time long ago. Seems he has fallen on hard times and is working as a day laborer. Good man with horses.”
“Was that not a bit chancy?” asked Master Clarisse. “Day laborers are not generally known for longevity at jobs. Were you not concerned he might leave our journeyman in the lurch and wander off if a better job presented itself?”
“It is true that some day laborers move from job to job more frequently than some folks change their socks. Others are just drifters following the wind, seeking what they think might be a better job just over the next horizon with a hope of better work or better pay. There are a lot more folks seeking work this summer, no thanks to our Regent. Higher taxes have forced folks off their lands or forced them to send their oldest sons and daughters to try to find work. The hope for those forced to leave their homes is that they will be able to return with some coin. At least while they are gone, there will be fewer mouths to feed. Such a contrast to the frivolity of the fairs, don’t you think? But I haven’t really answered your question. With jobs being pretty dear, Jonzee Smed looked quite relieved to have steady employment. And as I said, I know him from a time long ago and know him to be a good man,” stated Master Rollag. “I had best get back. I am staying at Master Bircholm’s house in town. If you see Journeyman Mikkel and his driver, direct them there if you would.”
Master Rollag stopped by my booth briefly to exchange a hello and to inquire about the day and the sales before he strode off. The day moved swiftly after that for the most part, and those times that did drag were made easier due to a young man playing the pipes. He had set up a stool and a basket for coin near us.
That evening Master Clarisse, Evan, and I wandered into town to have a warm meal that we did not have to cook and chanced upon the Inn of the Three Hares. It soon became apparent that we would stand out among the normal patrons, for the Inn catered to those far more affluent than the three of us. That pretty much dashed any plans we might have had to eavesdrop in on the conversation that was supposed to take place there the next day. We could only hope Lord Hadrack had some plan.
Unlike the Glendalen fair, where we camped within the confines of the fairgrounds, here we had been assigned spots opposite the fairgrounds across a wide meadow, on the edge of Crestbury forest. While the homewagon was shaded during the day, which kept it cool should Carz wish to stay there, the site was a less welcoming place at night once you left the warmth and companionship of our shared fire. There was something about the forest which made me not want to go wandering in it after dark.
Feeling more alone than I had since the beginning of this journey, I pulled Carz close that night, and he, with great tolerance, let me. I had put out a gift for the Neebings and had an almost irrational need for one to come this night and take it. It was with that wish in mind I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning dawned grey and foggy with a light mist falling, but it was less gloomy than might be expected, for I had found a beautiful polished stone on the floor of the Neebing room. While there were other rover families camping along the edge of the forest also, they were not close by. I did not know them, so my ambivalence concerning Neebings swung more towards them being real this morning. I tucked the polished stone in my pocket and headed into the fair. I had just opened my booth when Master Rollag showed up with another man dressed in Glassmakers Guild livery. He motioned to Evan to come over to my booth and asked me if he could have a few minutes of my time. I was comfortable leaving Evan to watch over my booth and stepped behind it to talk to Master Rollag.
“Nissa, I would like you to meet Jonzee Smed, one of our drivers,” stated Master Rollag, “and I have a boon to ask.”
“What is it you need?” I inquired.
“I need you to go to dinner with my driver here,” Master Rollag answered.
At that point I took a really good look at Jonzee Smed, and it was a shock, to say the least, to see my Da standing before me. It was all I could do to school my expression to that of polite interest rather than throwing myself into Da’s arms. Even with the beard and his hair cut shorter than I had ever seen it, even though he had lost considerable weight, I would have recognized him anywhere. Gathering my wits about me, I asked Master Rollag why he wanted me to go to dinner with one of his drivers.
“I need an unknown face to have a late dinner at the Inn of the Three Hares,” he answered.
“Master Clarisse, Evan, and I went by the Inn last night, and it is not a place that would welcome tradesfolk. We would be very noticeable, and many would remember us.”
I am surprised my heart did not beat right out of my chest at that moment. Da did not need to be placed in a situation where he would be even more in danger, but I did not feel I could explain that to Master Rollag without revealing just who his driver really was.
Master Rollag then explained he had a plan. I would be contacted sometime this day by a gentleman who would admire my little whimsies and ask me to come to his address in midtown Crestbury to look at a potential restoration job I could do when the fair season was over. When I arrived at his home, I was to go to the service entrance, would be met there, and as Master Rollag said, “would be transformed into a young woman of means who would not attract the type of attention a rover lass might at the Inn of the Three Hares.”
I figured they would have about as much chance of transforming me into “a young woman of means” as I would have of convincing someone that the knotty pine box they were holding was made out of exotic kanaberry wood.
The hours between talking to Master Rollag and the end of the fair day had times when they went too fast, and others when they dragged. A well-dressed merchant stopped by my booth mid-afternoon to “arrange” my coming that night to look at some woodcarvings in need of repair and gave me directions to his house. At the end of the fair day, I asked Master Clarisse and Evan to make sure Carz was alright and had dinner. Finally, it was time to leave for my appointment. Soon, I fervently hoped, I would once again be in my Da’s company.
I was met at the service door by the gentleman who had come to the fair that afternoon. I was actually relieved to be greeted by him rather than a servant, for the fewer folks who knew my visit was a ruse, the better. I was asked to follow him into the formal dining room, and for the next ten minutes we discussed my returning after the fair season was over and repairing the broken woodcarvings on his sideboard. An unfortunate accident caused by some spontaneous horseplay between two of his grandsons.
“Their grandmother is always telling them that if they are going to roughhouse they should take it outside, but they don’t always listen,” he had said.
It was almost an unreal moment. On the one hand I was having a normal conversation about a commission I should have been thrilled to get. On the other hand Da and I were about to be sent off to spy on some of the nobles who both supported the Regent and were anxious to get their hands on Da. I was then escorted to the cook’s room off the kitchen, and by this time, I was only mildly surprised to see Lady Hadrack sitting quietly in the cook’s rocker looking through some papers.
“I am so glad you have come,” she said. “I am glad to finally have a chance to meet you. I have heard so much about you from Beezle.”
When Lady Hadrack noticed what might have been a slightly shocked or fearful look on my face, she quickly reassured me by saying laughingly, “Oh, it was all good, and he only talked about you and your other friends to me when we were in places where we could not be overheard by others. That lad is, if nothing else, discreet.” Before I could even begin to respond, she went on. “We had best get going, so you can make your dinner reservations on time. Go behind the changing screen, for you need to get into the dress hanging there. While you are dressing, you need to listen carefully so you will have your story about who you are this night clearly in your mind should anyone inquire. Your name for the next few hours is Patrice O’Gallen, and you are visiting the fair with your uncle, Alfonzo McKennen. He is a silk merchant from the far south coastal town of Saleen. You are here checking out new markets and beginning your education in the silk trade. You are new to the silk trade and need to earn a living because your parents were recently killed in a tragic accident. Your uncle has kindly taken you in. If you get uncomfortable with any questions, just look sad and miserable, and perhaps the questioner will take pity on you. Now if you are dressed, get yourself from behind that screen, so we can do something about your hair.”
Quite frankly I would have liked to do something about the dress. How do women even function in these garments? Once I had drawn in the laces so the dress fit properly, it was hard to breathe, and the yards of material in the skirt were certainly going to make it hard to sit. This teal colored dress, which I suspected was made of silk, was certainly not designed with any practical use in mind, except to cover the body. I was grateful that it had a very high neck line, so I did not have to remove the golden pine spider silk pouch and try to hide it somewhere. I felt odd being in the fancy dress, for there had not been many occasions in my life that had called for me to wear a formal dress. None, if truth be told. The material it was made out of, however, was soft and luxurious, and if it were not so impractical, I would not have minded a shirt made out of it. My opinion of the garment, minus my opinion of the silk material, must have shown on my face when I stepped out from behind the changing screen.
When Lady Hadrack looked me over wearing a gentlewoman’s gown and my rover boots, I am sure it was almost more than she could do not to burst out laughing. She refrained and merely handed me a pair of walking slippers, which were only slightly too big. Amidst her amusement, Lady Hadrack also conveyed a sense of urgency, so I took the chair she indicated and wondered what she thought she could do with my hair. It was neither of fashionable length nor color. With quick, deft motions, Lady Hadrack had my hair up and placed a very blond wig on my head. She then spent several minutes using makeup on my face, an experience I am not anxious to repeat. While she completed my disguise, she gave me very detailed descriptions of who might be at the meeting. When I stood up, she turned me to look in the full length mirror. I did not recognize the young woman staring back at me, which was somewhat of a relief, for if I did not recognize myself perhaps no one else would.
I was escorted to the front parlor where I was introduced to my “uncle.” If I had not known the man standing before me all of my life, I certainly would not have accepted that the dapper white-haired gentleman, who drew me close and kissed my cheek, was my Da.
“Hello niece. How lovely you look this night,” he said. “Are you hungry? Our host here has recommended the Inn of the Three Hares as a fine place to eat.”
And with that said, Da picked up his hat and cane, took my arm, and we headed out the door.