Thorval was so proud of his daughter that it took all he had to not pull her up off her chair and hug her. Time was of the essence here, however, and so he calmly sat back down and poured himself another cup of tea, which he really did not want. He looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear his conversation with his daughter. In a very soft voice, almost a whisper, said, “Ari . . ., ah, Nissa, I have to start thinking of you with that name so I don’t mess up. Anyway, Nissa, while I would like to spend more than a brief moment with you just talking and catching up, we don’t have much time. There are a few important things I need to tell you. First and foremost is I love you, and I am so proud of you. Over the last month, you have kept a cool head in dangerous situations and have gathered good friends around you. I only wish I could be with you, but that would put you in even more danger than you already are.”
“I love you too,” Nissa whispered back, “and I miss you.”
“The others will be expecting us soon, and there are things you need to know. Master Rollag is aware of who both of us really are,” Thorval told his daughter. When he saw the look of surprise and alarm on her face, he quickly assured her she could trust Master Rollag. “He and I have a history, and I believe him when he says he will look out for you. Know that you can trust him. I also think you can trust Master Clarisse, Beezle, and Evan with your true identity, if you need to do so. However, the fewer folks who know our secret, the better, for it places all of us in less danger.”
“How does Master Rollag know who you are?”
“That’s a story for another time, I am afraid. Now,” said Thorval, effectively cutting off any more questions Nissa might ask, “do you remember when the tall fair-haired man bumped into our table at the Inn of the Three Hares?”
“The one you recognized? The one who slipped something under the bread basket which you picked up with the expertise of a slight of hand artist?” Nissa remarked dryly.
“Ah, so you noticed both of those things, did you? You are either very observant, or I am losing my touch. Did you also notice what he said?”
“He was very polite if I recall.”
“He was, but his words had a dual meaning. He said, as he slipped the folded paper under the bread basket, ‘Your pardon’ and he meant it literally. What he slipped me was a pardon for one Thorval Pedersen, duly signed and stamped with the Regent’s seal. That he knew who I was under the disguise is worrisome in and of itself. That he had a pardon with him when he came into the Inn suggests he knew I was going to be there that night. That he appears to be solidly in the opposition’s camp makes me wonder about my continued safety and what this pardon is all about. Was he trying to slip me a paper that could be my salvation, or was he setting up a trap? I really don’t know whose side he is on.”
“Who is he?”
“He is the son of an old friend of both your mother’s and mine from another time and place,” Thorval answered. “Be extra cautious should you see him again. He may not know who you are, but then again, he may. Well,” Thorval said clearing his throat, “we should start putting the chairs and table away and take the tea things down before the others begin to wonder what is taking us so long. Please be careful.”
“I’ll do my best to stay out of harm’s way.”
“See that you do,” stated Thorval with mock seriousness, and then added very quietly, “see that you do.”
The two, with quiet efficiency, carried the chairs and table to the roof door and placed them in a small cupboard just inside the door. As they went back to gather up the cups and tea pot, Thorval said, “Master Rollag mentioned he may be sending me on an errand for the guild. He will let you know discretely if I am sent out of town, and where you might expect to find me next. I know you have a lot of questions swirling around in that head of yours, and I promise I will try to answer them as soon as I can, but for now, you are better off knowing only what you know. Knowing more would put others in danger. Come, let us go join the others.”
Evan crawled out of the tent far brighter and more cheerful than usual, for he was excited about the day ahead. Master Clarisse had given him a rare day off to spend with his childhood friend, Clare. They were going to spend the day in the bakers’ area of the fair, hopefully sampling baked goods, and maybe catching a glimpse of the Princess, who was supposed to be judging the pastries this day. While Evan loved pastries, he secretly wished he was working this day and would have had tomorrow off instead, because that was the day cakes and pies would be judged, which he loved even more. Since beggars were not supposed to be choosers, as his mother would say, he thought he could probably survive a day without cakes and pies, and make do with pastries.
After eating the hearty breakfast Mistress Jalcones had cooked, Evan quickly set off to find Clare, who had said she would meet him by the royal bake ovens. He knew she would have been up long before dawn helping prepare the head royal baker’s entries for the pastry contest. He also knew she was probably right now fussing over her entry in the apprentice level, and had hopes of achieving high marks, if not a win. Either one would help her achieve journeywoman status sooner.
The smells of sugar and yeast, bubbling fruit and spices, became almost overpowering as Evan approached the area of the bake ovens. He felt as if the air grew hotter the closer he came. As he threaded his way between bakers rushing trays to the display pavilion, he had several overwhelming urges to snatch goodies off the trays, but just barely restrained himself. He arrived at the royal ovens just as Clare was taking her apron off and wiping her face with it, to remove the flour and sweat that had accumulated there.
“Hey, Clare,” Evan said shyly, for Clare was not the same small skinny child he had once played with but had grown up to be a quite beautiful, very self assured young woman. While spending time with her yesterday had been good, he had felt a bit awkward.
“Hey yourself,” Clare answered back. “Almost finished. Just need to wash up, and we can be on our way.”
“What, you didn’t save out one of your entries for me to sample to make sure it was fit to eat?” retorted Evan.
“Only if you say pretty please with mouse meat on it,” Clare replied with a twinkle in her eye.
Evan laughed and felt better than he had since arriving in Snoddleton. The mention of “pretty please with mouse meat” brought back a flood of memories of summer days with Clare. When they would try to talk cook out of some delectable goodie she had just pulled out of the oven, cook would say what Clare had just said. Suddenly everything was alright again between them. At least that was one less worry about this day. Evan had been trying not to think about the other objective he had been asked to keep in mind. As Clare finished up, the conversation he had had with Master Clarisse the night before came back to him.
“I want you to pay very close attention to a number of things,” Master Clarisse had told him. “Pay close attention to anything to do with the Princess, such as her appearance, who is near her, her royal guards, and listen in on what folks around her are saying. I do not think many will pay much attention to you and Clare, but do not do anything to draw attention to yourselves either.”
Evan was pulled back to the present when Clare announced, “All ready. Here is your sample, and I really want to know what you think.” She handed Evan a square of flaky pastry.
Evan took one bite, and the flavors of honey, nuts, and berry preserves melted in his mouth. While Clare waited anxiously for him to speak, Evan took his time savoring each bite. He did not speak until he had licked his fingers to get every last crumb.
“It’s pretty good.”
“Just pretty good,” Clare remarked, swatting Evan on the arm.
“Actually, now that you have my attention,” Evan said while rubbing his arm, “on second thought, it’s really wonderful, Clare. Any chance at seconds?”
“No, and we had best be off for I want to get to the judging pavilions and see the other entries.”
Evan and Clare walked companionably side by side and took in the sights, sounds, and smells whirling around them. They stopped here and there to sample baked goods and then spent time going from pavilion to pavilion to look at the entries. Clare was especially interested in the area set up for the apprentices’ entries and tried to compare her pastry with the others. Evan thought that if anyone tasted Clare’s, she would obviously win hands down.
Suddenly the pavilion began filling up with royal guards. Evan, Clare, and others were asked to move to the edge of the pavilion and make way for the Princess. Fortunately, he and Clare ended up with a good view of the judging party, which consisted of a panel of bakers and the Princess. Evan had never seen the Princess before and was surprised when he caught his first glimpse of her. He had expected a young woman with a commanding presence, and what he saw before him was a rather thin, small young woman who looked, well, who looked faded he thought. The Princess was rather plain. Her overall appearance was just dull, and he could not detect much of a spark in her. What was that word his mother had used to describe their mare when she had taken ill? Listless, that was it, he thought. The Princess looked washed out, and listless, as if she were ill.
Clare gave a start next to him when the Princess arrived but quickly covered it up. She remained silent, but Evan knew her well enough to know that the silence and the stillness of the young woman standing next to him were covering up much stronger emotions.
Evan further noticed the special royal guards were very much in evidence, if discretely placed throughout the pavilion. Were they expecting some type of trouble? With the Princess looking so wan, it certainly did not look like she would be the source of concern, so why then such a close watch on her? Another odd thing Evan noticed was the make-up of the crowd gathered. At the actual judging, even with the Princess in attendance, he thought those gathered would be mostly bakers or members of the bakers’ families. There was really not much to see other than the judging panel eating very tiny portions of the submitted entries. Not really crowd pleasing like other judged events such as horse trials, or herding dog trials.
It would be more likely to see some of the town’s notables and nobility at the awards ceremony to take place later in the day just before the fair closed, but not at a pastry judging, and yet there were more well-dressed folk gathered in the pavilion than expected. What struck Evan as the oddest note, however, were a number of folk who on the surface appeared to be merchants, foresters, and prosperous farmers, but reminded Evan of theater players; folks who were dressed for a part, but for some reason did not ring true in the role they were trying to portray. They had too much of a watchfulness about them he decided, especially the one in forester green garb.
Watching folks eat pastry was not all that entertaining, so Evan was relieved when Clare tugged on his hand to get his attention and motioned that they should make their way out of the pavilion.
Once they were outside and walking back towards the baking oven area, Clare leaned over and whispered, “Let’s go grab something to eat and talk.”
Evan thought they would stop at the royal baking ovens and get food there, but Clare led him past the ovens and back through the fair, through the town gate, and on up to the house where the royal cook and other members of the royal staff were staying.
“We can pick up a lunch here and then go across the lane to the small park to eat. That alright with you?”
“That’s fine with me as long as you throw in something really fine for dessert.”
Once settled, Evan noticed that Clare was picking at her food and asked her what was on her mind.
“I’m worried about the Princess. She doesn’t look well. No, that’s not quite right. She seems, oh, I don’t know, pale.”
“The word that came to my mind was faded,” countered Evan, “like she’s fading away.”
“Yes, that’s a good way to describe it, like the light inside of her is dimming, and she is just fading away. I wish I could just talk to her, but no one on the staff is allowed to get anywhere near her. I’ve tried to talk to her personal maid, but the lass can’t seem to stand still these days and looks like a frightened rabbit most of the time. As a baker’s apprentice, I have no reason to approach the Princess. If we were back in the capitol, she might have come down to the kitchen or the bakery, but here she is not even in the same building as the staff. I’m afraid for her, Evan, but I can’t think of anything to do.”
Evan debated what to say next. True, he had known Clare almost all of his life, but he had not seen her in awhile. Should he let her know that he had friends who were as concerned as she was and wished they could help, or should he stay mum? For now, he thought he would play it safe.
“It must be hard for you to see someone you know and care about not looking well. If there is anything I can do, just let me know. I will come by tomorrow around noon to the bake ovens. Do you think you would be free for lunch?” he asked, thinking that by keeping in contact with Clare, he might be able to get some information from her that would be helpful. He felt a little bit like he was using his childhood friendship with her and debated again if he should fill her in a little.
“I would like that,” Clare replied. “I can be free then, but now I am going to have to ask your pardon. I find myself much wearier right now than I thought I would be. I didn’t sleep well last night, worrying that I wouldn’t get up in time to bake, or that my pastries would be an abysmal failure. So now, if you don’t mind, I think I need to cut our day short and go take a nap.”
“Well, I do mind, for I had looked forward to the afternoon, but I do understand and will look forward to catching back up with you at the end of the day when they announce the winners. You will be there, won’t you?” Evan inquired.
“Thanks for reminding me. Now I won’t sleep during my nap, afraid I will oversleep once again, but still it will feel good, if nothing else, to just lie down for a little while.”
“Let’s pick up here, and I’ll walk you back to the place you are staying,” said Evan, as he moved to gather up the blanket they had been sitting on.
He walked Clare to her door and then headed back to the fair, debating whether he should go back to the booth and give Master Clarisse a break, or if he could justify a little more time off to go check out the horse stock for sale. As he turned the corner to head back towards the town gate, he thought he caught a flash of forester green out of the corner of his eye, but when he glanced back, there was no one to be seen.