I awoke early the next morning to the soft sleep sounds of three other folks in the homewagon. I nudged Carz gently with my feet to get him to move so I could get up. I quietly climbed the steps and slipped outside, trying not to wake the others. The aftermath of the storm lay all around me. Leaves and branches littered the ground, and there were puddles everywhere. My first concern was for the horses, and I let out a groan of despair when I looked at where we had tied them. They were gone, tie ropes and all. I raced to where they had been and pulled up short, puzzled. The ground should have been torn up if the horses had been pulling at their tie ropes because they had been spooked by the thunder and lightening, but there was no evidence of that. There was no way the horses could have untied the knots I had tied. Someone had taken the horses, but who and why?
Before I could think further, the Huntress appeared before me. “Come,” she said, beckoning me with an arm gesture.
I followed her, admiring how silently she traveled through the storm debris strewn forest and wished with some envy that I had that skill. We did not walk far before we came into a very well protected clearing ringed by dense pine trees. There in the center stood our horses munching contentedly on bright green grass, as if they were in their home pastures.
“Did you move our horses?” I inquired.
“Not me. I was tucked in all cozy in my home. Only a fool would venture out in the woods during a storm like last night. No, you had help from other forest dwellers, and it heartens my heart to know they are here after being gone for so very long. Though how they arrived so quickly, I will never know.”
What was she talking about? Before I could think further, I noticed something about the horses I had not noticed before. Their manes and tails were braided and had small bouquets of wild flowers tied at the end of each braid. I had seen a bouquet like that before. Neebings? Before I could ask the Huntress, I saw her cock her head as if listening to something, and then she told me she had to go. She was needed in another part of the woods and swiftly left, leaving me with my questions on my tongue, and with five horses decked out as if for a festival.
Great, just great! We surely would stand out traveling down the road with our horses all decked out. With a sigh, I gathered up the tethers of my horses and began leading them back the way I had come. The other horses followed, with Carz bringing up the rear. I would need to wake the others so we could, at the very least, remove the flowers from the horses’ braids, so as to look a little less conspicuous. Even if we unbraided the manes and tails, the waves created by the hair being braided when wet and then drying would be distinctive. As I left the clearing, I thought I heard musical laughter floating in on the breeze, but that had to be my overactive imagination.
Upon arriving back at the campground, I was relieved to find the rest of the group was up and had the morning fire going. I would be glad of a hot cup of strong tea after my early morning adventure in the woods. Beezle was the first one to spot me and flashed me a smile of welcome, which quickly turned to a smile of amusement.
“You got up early to pretty up the horses? Why ever for?”
“Not of my doing,” I replied, and then began to scramble for a logical explanation as to why the horses were looking so fancy.
“They look beautiful,” exclaimed Master Clarisse. “How did they come through the storm last night looking well-groomed and, well, delightfully charming?”
“They had help,” I said briskly, hoping to stop any more questions.
I suggested that they help remove the decorations on the horses before we drew attention to ourselves. The others must have seen the worry on my face, for they immediately began to work on the horses. Once the horses had been divested of their flowers and braids, their manes and tails brushed to a sheen, and all were retied to the rope stretched between the two trees, all we had time for was a quick breakfast so we could get to our booths at the fair on time.
There was a buzz going through the fair that morning. A very rare griff falcon had been spotted flying in the valley this morning and was the talk of the hour. These rare birds are almost never seen outside of the high hill or mountain forests where they dwell. Folks were speculating that the storm may have pushed this one off course. I wished I could have seen it, but I did not have time to dwell on it. Since we were still determined to leave at noon, there was just too much to do. While waiting on fairgoers, I had to pack the cart so that my tools, supplies, and stock would be secure for the road ahead.
At midmorning, I asked Master Clarisse to cover my booth and made my way to the other end of the fair, looking for a shoemaker who would be heading to Snoddleton. The shoes I had left home in were not really up to the demands of my new life. I had heard of a rover shoemaker in attendance at this fair, and I had not been able to get away to find him before now. The rover shoemaker’s booth was located up the rise towards town. Once I reached the top of the hill, I happened to glance back towards the woods and noticed a tree that was somewhat taller than the others. It had the look of new spring growth, not the early summer foliage that the other trees sported. I must have stood there staring for a moment or two and was startled out of my reverie by a deep masculine voice.
“So young rover, have you never seen a quirrelit tree in new growth before? ’Tis a miracle to be sure, for those woods have not had one for a long, long time. Gives one pause and hope. Perhaps it is an omen of change. What do you think?”
Quite frankly, I did not know what to think any more than I knew what to say as I turned and looked into the warm brown eyes of a wizened old man’s face. He stood a full foot shorter than I and was dressed in clothes that identified him as a fellow rover. His hair was full and white, as was his beard, and he had the most wrinkled face I had ever seen. I could not even begin to guess his age. He was wearing a full leather apron, and an even fuller smile, as he waited patiently for me to answer his question.
Since Da had always insisted that honesty was the best policy, which made me laugh inside considering all the things I was beginning to suspect he had neglected to tell me, I said, “No sir, I can’t say that I have ever seen a quirrelit tree in new growth.” Hoping to change the subject, I asked if he was Shueller, the shoemaker, and was he traveling on to Snoddleton?
“Yes, indeed, to both questions,” he said, glancing down at my feet with a broad smile on his face, and said, “and you look like you are in dire need of me. Come, step into my booth and take a seat. I will need to take measurements. I take it you need traveling boots?”
I sat down on the bench and rested my hands on my knees. Shueller turned back from gathering his measuring tools and stopped short, having glanced at my hands. A strange look crossed his face, and he approached me slowly.
“A day it would seem of unexpected happenings,” he muttered almost to himself, and I had to strain to hear what he was saying. “Quirrelit trees and a Neebing blessed all in one day. Hope, yes, hope indeed.”
He seemed to shake himself and become very business-like, measuring and writing things down. He offered suggestions on leather and color, and I told him I just wanted something plain. He asked about what I had painted on my homewagon, what my craft was, and said to trust him. He would make boots that I would find more than acceptable.
“They will be ready about the middle of next week. Come find me in Snoddleton. It will be an honor to make something for you, young rover.”
I thanked him, but his demeanor, while kind, indicated our time together was concluded, and he needed to get to work. I left, and he gave me a friendly wave and a smile. I was halfway back to my booth before I realized he had not even asked me for a deposit on the boots, as was the custom. Once back in my booth, I needed to concentrate on finishing packing up the booth and double checking the cart to make sure everything was secure.
We left just a bit later than planned, and it was nice to have Beezle once again traveling with us. Because of the muddy conditions, he had chosen to ride alongside rather than with me, which was cause for some disappointment, but I understood. The road could be treacherous at times, and we all needed to pay attention to where we were going. We wanted to make as much distance as we could this day, so our trip tomorrow would bring us to Snoddleton, and hopefully before all the good campsites were taken. Good fortune seemed to be shining down on us, for when we were about two hours down the road from Crestbury, the road became dry and easy to travel. The storm must not have reached this far south. The sky was a brilliant blue with not a cloud to dim the brightness, and the day had warmed up considerably.
We stopped by a roadside creek mid-afternoon and pulled the tents out of Master Clarisse’s wagon to fasten across the top, which would allow them to dry. I hung various wet items of clothing and other articles off the sides and back of my homewagon also, and so we looked like a moving laundry line as we traveled on. We stopped again for a quick cold dinner and packed everything away, so it would not get wet in the coming evening dampness. It was almost dusk when we finally found a spot to camp off the road near a clear stream. I could only hope that the storm from last night had blown well south of us, and no new storms were heading our way, for this campsite was sheltered only by a short row of pines and would not protect us from anything stronger than a slight breeze. Our luck held, and we continued our journey early the next morning.
We arrived at the main gate into the first circle of Snoddleton, which was a large town built in concentric walled circles, the first being more of a short stone fence rather than a wall. Inside the first circle were grazing lands, kitchen gardens, and an area set aside for the summer fair and other gatherings. It would host the farmer’s market in the warm months. We stopped to register for the fair and to get our assignments for the campground, hopefully sites that were near a well and not so near the privies.
“You have good friends who have arrived before you and claimed some prime campsites,” said the gatekeeper to Master Clarisse, “if you are Master Clarisse of the Glassmakers Guild. A trader named Jalcones arrived yesterday and was very generous with his goodwill,” the gatekeeper said with an exaggerated wink, which indicated to me that Trader Jalcones may have slipped him a bit of coin to have him hold us campsites. “They came in with a pair of rover families, and so I have put you next to them. You’ll be needin’ what? Two sites or three?”
“Why don’t you make it two,” said Beezle. “I’ll bunk in with Evan, if that is alright with you, Master Clarisse.”
“Only if you two promise to stay out of mischief,” Master Clarisse replied.
Both Beezle and Evan tried to look exceptionally innocent, but were not very good at it.
“So you’ll be needin’ how many fair badges then?” the gatekeeper inquired.
“Five,” replied Master Clarisse in a voice that booked no argument.
We entered the town with packets of information concerning the fair, two chits that marked the locations of our campsites and booths, which were together once again after having done a bit of dickering with the gatekeeper, and I suspect a bit of coin slipping under the table. I wondered if the Lord and Lady of Snoddleton knew how profitable the gatekeeper’s job was.
The Snoddleton fair was set up in a cross between the Glendalen fair and the Crestbury fair. Some of the campsites were placed along the inside of the first wall of the town and the outside of the second wall of the town with the booths in front of the campsites. We had been given several of these coveted spots, for this arrangement only worked for those who had booths on the outside of the fairground next to the walls. Those who had booths in the interior of the fair, and there were three lanes with booths lining both sides, were relegated to campsites outside the fair. Since this was the fair where baked goods and pastries were judged, there was a separate section of the fair where temporary brick beehive ovens had been built to accommodate the bakers. I could already smell the warm yeasty smells of baking bread.
While our entrance into the town seemed less complicated and relatively easy, I could not help but notice the number of town guards and peacekeepers who were present as we made our way towards the fair. There were also a number of royal guards, and then it struck me that the Princess was to be in attendance at the Snoddleton fair. Even though I had never met the Princess, I did feel some empathy towards her, and a great deal of worry. From what little we had gleaned from the conversations we had heard, the twists of the plots against her were many and convoluted. Because she had not been available to her subjects outside of the capitol, many in Sommerhjem had chosen not to think favorably of her, so there was less and less support from her subjects. In addition, because she had not left the capitol, she was perhaps unaware of what was happening in Sommerhjem under the Regent’s rule, and unaware of the power the Regent held and abused. Furthermore, it could be surmised that she was not aware of how precarious her life could become, depending on how she acted or reacted now that she was in Snoddleton.
Setting up our campsites and booths was delayed as we greeted and caught up on the news with the Jalcones and with Oscar and Bertram and their families. It felt good to be surrounded by friendly faces, and the evening passed in laughing camaraderie. For several hours, my cares and worries fell away. Bertram brought out his fiddle, and Beezle dared to bring out his wooden whistle. One of Oscar’s children played a small flat drum, and the lively tunes they played lifted my spirits and set all of our toes to tapping. The cook fire burned down to glowing embers, and the sky was crowded with stars. Oh, how I wished that this was just a typical evening among friends who traveled the summer fair route together. All too soon the night bell rang, signaling that quiet hours in the campground were to start and reminding us that it was time for sleep. As I closed the door to my homewagon, after having said good night to my friends, I was struck with the thought that I had not asked Beezle if he still had the object I had slipped him at the Inn of the Three Hares, and he had not mentioned it. I promised myself that tomorrow I would do two things. First and foremost, I would try to find a time to talk to Beezle privately, and second, I would finally get around to finding out what was in the book the Huntress had given me.