I did not know whether I wanted to leap over the counter of my booth and hug Beezle or just hurl a chunk of wood at him. I was really glad he was fine, but I was also a little bit miffed that he had been sitting across from me for several days as a pipe player and had not let me in on his disguise. Truth be told, perhaps I was more bothered by the fact that I had not recognized him.
“You just going to sit there with your mouth hanging open, or are you going to greet an old friend?” Beezle asked.
“I’m not sure,” I stated. “Since we didn’t say good-bye, farewell, the last time we saw each other, I am not sure we need to say hello.”
“Good point, but as I am sure you have surmised, I did have some rather pressing business for Uncle and needed to do a bit of traveling.”
“Dancing to his tune were you?” I replied, enjoying the verbal sparing. “Pipe up now. You could have bearded him in his keep and demanded some time off.”
“Ah, alas, that was my trouble.”
“What was your trouble? Piping or bearding?”
“Why bearding, of course. I have always had trouble with bearding, and after the close shaves of the last day or so, I think I will feel much better if I do not have to beard anything anytime again soon.”
How long we would have continued this verbal silliness I do not know, but we were mercifully interrupted by several fairgoers stopping at the booth and asking questions about a puzzle box. I needed to pay attention. Beezle asked if he might join us for dinner at the campgrounds that night. Master Clarisse, upon hearing the request, said that would be grand, and she and Evan would even cook. Maybe then we would have a chance to talk and catch up with each other in a more straightforward manner than we had been able to do here. Trade was reasonably brisk, and the rest of the afternoon went by much more quickly than the morning had.
Since Master Clarisse and Evan had taken on the tasks of cooking the meal, I was left with the tasks of caring for the horses and hauling wood, plus other incidental chores that come with daily living in a campground. Carz accompanied me to the pasture where the horses were grazing, and I was glad of his company, for I knew I would need to enter the woods after my chores with the horses were done. The idea of entering the woods left me with a small feeling of trepidation after my adventures of the previous night. While the Huntress and I had parted on good terms, I felt it was only prudent to continue to be wary of someone who had once thought nothing of killing me.
As I stepped into the shade of the forest, I noticed that it no longer felt hostile to me. It made me wish I had both the time and the courage to venture further in to see if I could find the Huntress’ clearing and see if the quirrelit seed had sprouted, but that would have been a silly thing to try to do. After all, we had just planted the seed the night before, so it surely would not have sent a shoot up this day.
With all of the folks camped near the forest’s edge needing wood for their cook fires, I knew I would need to venture a bit further in to find downed wood, so I was surprised when I found a nice pile of stacked wood just a bit inside the forest’s edge. I would have walked by it, thinking it must have been gathered and stacked by someone who had a campsite close to mine, if it had not been for the hunting cat that slipped out from behind the back of the pile where it had been laying. Carz moved forward and touched noses with the hunting cat, and then the two of them began pawing the small pile of wood, knocking it towards me. It did not take getting the entire pile of wood knocked onto my feet for me to know the wood was for me. I recognized the hunting cat as one I had met before, and so I bowed to it slightly. I cannot quite tell you why, but it seemed a good idea at the time, and I said “Please thank your mistress for the wood.”
After several trips, I had moved the wood out of the forest and under my homewagon, for the sky above was beginning to cloud up, and the air smelled of rain. We now had more than enough wood for the evening meal, breakfast, and to leave a bit behind for the next folks to use the campsite. By the time I had finished my chores, Master Clarisse and Evan had a stew bubbling over the coals, which was making my mouth water and my stomach growl. I was beginning to worry a bit, for Beezle had not yet arrived. Master Clarisse must have noticed my worried look, for she quickly reassured me that Beezle would be along shortly.
“He said he wanted to stop by the bakery in town to pick up some supplies for the road. Ah, there he is now,” she said.
I turned and glanced over my shoulder. He was indeed almost to our campsite, and Evan and I both jumped up to help him for he had his arms full of items.
“Thanks,” Beezle said, in a muffled voice, for his face was buried behind a stack of bags and packages wrapped in cloth. Once we had relieved him of all his packages, he went on. “Aunt is leaving this day, as is her hostess, and they were closing down the house. She sent me with the food items she thought might perish soon, plus some supplies that I might contribute to communal meals, that is, if you will let me join back up with your merry band. It seems Uncle wants me to head on to the Snoddleton fair. Uncle sent word that he is shipping some of our cheese to Snoddleton, and I am to set up a booth to acquaint fairgoers with our fine product. You will be delighted to know that the Jalcones are the ones bringing the cheese to Snoddleton. Seems they stopped by Glendalen Keep midweek. They had had some trouble with their wagon and came back to get help with the repairs. Uncle was delighted they were heading this way and had room for our goods.”
I was not sure which I was more excited about, that Beezle was going to accompany us to the next fair or that the Jalcones would be there too. I had missed all three of them this past week. I was now anxious to get on the road, but there was one more day of the Crestbury fair to get through before we broke camp and headed out. After dinner was eaten and cleared away, Evan went off with Beezle to fetch Beezle’s horse and gear while Master Clarisse and I finished cleaning up. To save ourselves time, we began packing up those items we would not need the next day. We had determined over dinner that we wanted to be on the road shortly after the fair closed. The Crestbury fair closed at noon, and if we could get everything packed and hitched up, we would have a good five or so hours of travel time before we needed to stop for the night. According to Master Clarisse, the Snoddleton fair had limited good places to camp, and we wanted to beat the rush by leaving tomorrow instead of waiting for the following morning.
As we worked, Master Clarisse was able to fill me in on what had happened to Da and Beezle the previous night. I think I am glad I did not know what was happening to either of them while I was spending time with the Huntress. I opened my mouth to tell Master Clarisse about what had happened to me and found myself editing what I told her. I did not mention the part about the Huntress wanting to kill me, and I did not describe the ritual concerning the planting of a quirrelit tree, nor did I mention Neebings. That left me scrambling for an explanation of what had happened. I must have told a mostly credible story for Master Clarisse seemed to accept what I disclosed to her.
We were about to help Beezle pitch his tent and get his belongings under cover when a light mist began to fall and the rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, drawing closer with each passing minute.
“This rain is going to be a gully washer,” Evan stated. “I wonder if we might want to move the horses in and tie them to a line stretched between those two big trees behind your homewagon Nissa.”
I trusted Evan’s judgment when it came to the horses, and so we set about getting them. Evan, Beezle, and Master Clarisse went off to bring the horses back, and I set about tying a line between the trees. By the time they returned, the wind had picked up, and the thunder had gotten louder.
“I think we need to lash down the tents before this storm really hits,” said Master Clarisse. “Evan, come help me move our wagon to the other side of the tents to provide a bit of a windbreak. Once we have it in place, we need to move anything we don’t want soaked into the wagon.”
“Instead of doing that, why don’t you pack everything up except your sleeping gear and move into my homewagon for the night? That way, if this storm is as bad as it sounds, not everything will be soaked,” I suggested.
“Good idea, and thanks,” replied Beezle.
With all of us pitching in, we beat the first heavy downpour by scant minutes. While the tents had gotten damp in the mist, they were not as soaked as they would have been. All of the gear was packed in one or the other of the wagons, and we could sort things out when we set up camp the next night. The upside of the frantic last few minutes was we were essentially packed to leave even sooner, whereas others who did not have the luxury to do as we had done would face a mess the next day.
My homewagon was designed to sleep four fairly comfortably. Evan and Beezle took my parent’s bed, and I pulled down a side panel which made a top bunk over my bed for Master Clarisse. It was a bit cozy with all of us in the homewagon, but it also felt good to be out of the weather and with friends on such a stormy night. Another advantage of having all four of us inside with a storm raging all about us was that we could finally feel somewhat safe to have a conversation without the fear of being overheard, even if we sometimes had to repeat ourselves because our words were drowned out by rolling, booming thunder.
“With all the chasing around last night, which was dangerous for all of us, did we learn anything of significance?” I questioned.
“Very little, for all of that,” replied Beezle.
“We heard that the Princess is coming to the fair in Snoddleton, but then we knew that before,” I said. “We know that the group from the Inn is concerned that they will not be able to control her as well in Snoddleton as they can at the capitol and that might be a problem. Perhaps the most important thing we learned last night was that if the Princess becomes a problem, they do not intend to do anything until the end of the fair. The man who came in late to the group made my blood run cold, the one called the Raven.” At the mention of the Raven’s name, I heard a slight gasp and turned to look at Master Clarisse. “Do you know of this man?”
“I personally have never met him, nor do I ever want to. I had hoped he was just a rumor put out by those loyal to the Regent to put fear in folks’ hearts. This information does not bode well for the Princess if she causes the Regent’s agents any concern.”
“Why is that?” asked Evan, his voice breaking a bit.
“Word is that the Raven is the Regent’s solution to pesky problems,” stated Beezle. “My uncle said that disappearances and mysterious deaths of several key folks at court who could cause the Regent a great deal of trouble have been linked to the Raven, but nothing could be proven.”
“It is too bad none of us can get close to the Princess or her party to be able to get a better handle on what is going on, and whether there is really a need to be concerned about the Princess’ safety. It would seem to be a bad move on the Regent’s part to dispose of the Princess offhand, but having her disappear at the end of the Snoddleton fair opens up a number of possibilities. He could give out any number of stories as to where she was and then rule Sommerhjem unimpeded. If the demand for her became too great, he could then produce her, but in the capitol where he has ways of controlling her. If the Regent continues to create an atmosphere in Sommerhjem where the folk feel the Princess is indifferent to her subjects, then maybe no one will even notice she is missing. This is not good,” Master Clarisse said, stating the obvious.
“I know how to get some information,” said Evan in a quiet voice, and we all looked at him. He shrugged his shoulders and looked faintly embarrassed. “The head royal baker’s father-in-law is my father’s stable master, and every summer the stable master’s daughter and her children came to visit us for a month.”
I was beginning to get the feeling that the farm Evan came from was not very much like the small farms near my village of Mumblesey.
Evan continued, “His daughter, that is the head royal baker’s daughter not the stable master’s daughter, is my age, and we, ah, well, we played together each summer before both of us came of age to apprentice. Clare has a flair for pastry and is apprenticing with her father now. I had intended to seek her out at the Snoddleton fair ever since I heard that she and her father would be there.”
I think I could see a blush rising quickly up Evan’s neck but could not be sure in the dim light of the swaying lantern. The wind and rain were now pounding against the homewagon, and I was glad we had thought to lash it down before we had come in. We talked a bit longer about whether we thought it was a good idea to send Evan to seek out his friend, but in the end concluded it would look even stranger if he did not try to spend time with Clare. Perhaps this was a good piece of luck. It was growing late by this time, and many of us were beginning to yawn. The storm seemed to stall at that moment and calm down to a steady drizzle, so we each of us in turn took a last run to the privy and settled down to sleep.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep to the steady sound of rain on the roof, I realized I had not had a chance to ask Beezle about the object I had slipped into his hat at the Inn. I was just about to ask when I heard the sound of snoring coming from his end of the homewagon and decided that since it had waited this long, it could wait until morning.