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Chapter 9:- THE JOURNEY BEGINS
Harrold King leaned on his scepter. “Fella Doon, help me up. Put this, this threat—this demon—into my carriage.” Perhaps he thought if he couldn’t touch her, Fella Doon could.
Harrold King looked into the crowd. If eyes were daggers and stares were thorns, he wielded them now. “And bring her friends, too.”
It wasn’t going to happen quite that easily.
“More to say. More to say,” called out the Woolly.
Harrold King looked over to the wagon. “What, words from a madman?” he scoffed.
The Woolly looked at those with him on the wagon, then at Harrold King, “If you are going to take us away, these are my parting words, Harrold King: by Harvestaren Shoomin when bonfires light the fields at night, when frost begins to form on the withering leaves and the harvest is brought in, know this: when the three days of darkness descend, the walls of Osden Shorn will crumble and you will rule no more. I would curse you . . .” he spit upon the ground in front him, “. . . but no curse is needed. It is decreed.”
Harrold King had been silenced with the slap of prophecy. It was something he could not argue with. He pulled his scepter close to his chest, shook his wobbly chin and growled, “You’re mad!”
The Woolly ran up to the platform in a flurry of tattered clothing and dirty bare feet. Much to Harrold King’s dismay, the Woolly put his arm around Fair’s shoulder and said, “Open the door and lance the bull!”
Soon, the crowd was shouting as one, “Open the door! . . . Open the door!”
In a noisy spectacle of wood-creaking fury, Harrold King walked on his own two feet, back down to his carriage, cying, “Ahhh, my feet! They’re burning! Get me out of here. Immediately!” He snapped his fingers, “Come with me, sons.”
His feet had nothing to do with why he left. Hurt pride is often best covered with an excuse of some sort. Feet that hurt work quite well. “And Fella Doon?” growled Harrold King, “I want you to get in that wagon— and bring everyone in it to Osden Shorn.” Azanamer and Gibber Will looked at each other. The Woolly seemed oblivious.
Fella Doon nodded, “Right away, your majesty.”
Harrold King’s carriage drove away with the unstoppable sound of horse hooves clacking wildly on cobblestones. Whip slicing air.
After they left, Fella Doon didn’t move. He looked like he planned on taking his time about following orders.
Now, the only hoomin remaining on the platform were Fair, the Wolly, Fella Doon. And Miss Tilly, who was still locked up. The crowd didn’t seem to know what to do.
Everything went silent for a moment. Everyone waited for Fair to speak. She looked around and wondered what she could say. Nine years of darkness and loneliness, and now these faces are looking at me. So many of them.
Fair felt the Ruby Eye grow warm on her forehead. How strange. A thought came to her from the Scrolls of Truth:
You come into this life with a bundle of wisdom
that you are supposed to unpack and give away.
If you don’t give it away, it will get heavier and heavier,
until the only option is to drag it behind you.
She looked at Fella Doon who looked the other way, as though he intended to let her do what she pleased.
So she asked the Woolly, “Would you please do something for me?”
The Woolly looked at Fella Doon, who gave a slight nod of his head as he looked off into the distance.
The Woolly took this as a signal that all was clear.
“Of course,” he said. “Anything.”
“I need you to bring me my basket . . . and my blanket. Would you?”
The Woolly ran to the wagon. Gibber Will pulled the basket out from beneath his feet and handed it to him. Then he lifted the false floor of the wagon and pulled out the blanket. He rolled it up, tied a rope to both ends and gave it to the Woolly.
In a moment, the Woolly was by Fair’s side.
“Here you are.”
Fair took the basket and blanket. She put the rope over her head so the blanket hung down her back. She turned around and looked at Miss Tilly who had watched everything from her place in the stocks. Fair walked up to her and sat down beside her on the thin, wooden plank. It hurt to sit on it, because it was so narrow.
Some of hoomin moved from one foot to the other, uncertain of what might happen. This had been an unusual day.
Fair opened the basket and pulled out the chunk of bread, an old apple and a leather flask of water. “Here. You can have my midden meal. I’ve eaten well today.”
Miss Tilly looked ashamed and turned her head.
“When did you eat last?” Fair asked.
Miss Tilly kept her head turned away. She looked down. As Fair looked at her, she saw something that made her pull away in shock.
Miss Tilly disappeared.
What was even more strange, was that Sauveren sat in her place. Fair reached out to pet him by force of old habit, but before her hand could even touch him, Miss Tilly was there again just like before. Oh my, Fair thought. I’m seeing things. Her eyes stung, so she rubbed them with the heel of her hand.
Fair said, “Did you eat morning meal?”
Miss Tilly shook her head. Fair felt sorry for her.
“Last night’s even meal, then? Surely . . .”
Again, she shook her head.
“Yesterday’s midden meal?”
She shook her head again. Fair was amazed. She hadn’t eaten for a whole day.
Fair untied a knot of sky blue cloth that held the contents inside her basket. She reached in and pulled out the chunk of bread, then broke it into pieces. Miss Tilly looked at Fella Doon. He turned his head the other way.
Fair said, “It’s alright. He won’t say anything.” She uncorked the flask and gave her a sip of water. Then she put a piece of bread in Miss Tilly’s mouth. She chewed it ravenously. Fair fed her, one piece at a time, until the bread was gone.
She carefully put the apple to Miss Tilly’s lips and said, “Here, have a bite.”
Miss Tilly took a bite and when its sweetness passed over her tastebuds, a slow smile crept across her lips. She stole a shy look at Fella Doon.
After she finished chewing her bite of apple, Miss Tilly looked shyly at Fair’s flask of water. Fair uncorked the end of it again and put it to Miss Tilly’s mouth. Miss Tilly drank until the flask was empty.
Fair grew thoughtful. “Can I ask you a question?”
Miss Tilly nodded.
She stood up and went to the front of the wooden stocks. Miss Tilly’s hands dangled from the locks. Fair took a hold of her hands, then leaned over to whisper, “Do you know who Selador is?”
Miss Tilly shook her head.
“Are you quite sure?” Fair felt disappointed.
Miss Tilly nodded, looking sad that she couldn’t help. She slowly said, “I hope . . . you find what you’re looking for . . . and . . . thank you.”
The air stood still.
The crowd was silent.
Miss Tilly had spoken.
Someone muttered in disbelief, “She spoke to a hoomin. It’s a miracle.” Everyone looked at each other. “She spoke,” they repeated. They cheered.
Fair didn’t pay attention to the noise coming from the crowd. She hardly heard it. She said to Miss Tilly, “I know what it’s like . . . to be stuck. And hungry. I wish I could do more for you.”
“You’ve . . . done plenty, Fair. Before you go, there is something I want to give you . . . please . . .” She looked down at her lap, “My apron pocket. The small one.”
Fair found the small pocket and reached in. She pulled out a small, drawstring bag made of rough, brown cloth.
Miss Tilly nodded, “Take it with you wherever you are going. Payment for entry.”
“Payment for entry?” Fair asked.
Miss Tilly nodded, “Everyone has gates here. If you’re looking for someone, you’ll need to pay to enter.”
“You mean, I just can’t walk up to someone’s door?” Fair realized her mother hadn’t told her because she hadn’t needed to know.
“Harrold King has Protectors posted at every gate to make sure you pay.”
Fair opened the bag and poured the contents into her hand. She counted seven shackles, each one a different color, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and purple. She let them fall back into the bag, pulled on the cords to cinch it closed and slipped them around her wrist.
“Thank you, Miss Tilly. I need to say good-bye now. I have something I need to do.”
When Fair turned around, she announced, “I need to go now.” She touched the Ruby Eye on her forehead, absent-mindedly. She realized right then that this was her chance to ask for help, so she continued, “Does anyone here know Selador and where I might find him?”
Heads shook from side to side.
Fair’s shoulders slumped. “How am I supposed to find him? I don’t even know where to start.”
She looked over at the Woolly who held out his arm for her to take, “I haven’t got my head on straight, but you can’t do whatever it is you have to do alone. Can I come along?” He looked at Fella Doon to see if he’d let him get away with it.
Fella Doon said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to take you in to Osden Shorn. You, and your friends. I’ve got a family what expects me to come home at the end of the day.” If he didn’t do Harrold King’s bidding, he’d be punished for it.
Fella Doon reached into the neck of his shirt and carefully untucked a red scarf that he had loosely knotted around his neck. Everyone realized he was one of them. He had lost a wee hoomin in the whisking.
He quickly tucked it back out of sight.
The sight of the scarf made Fair think of her mother. Her voice. The sound of her reading to her by moonlight. My mother, she thought. Her red scarf. She’s already lost my brother. How can I leave her when she’s been so good to me? What if I never make it back home? She looked into the crowd to see if she could find her. Waiting. Silent. Yearning.
Lariel was there. She had stepped back into the crowd, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. She wasn’t sure she could fully trust Fella Doon, even though he seemed like one of the kind ones. Her secret speaker recorded the thoughts in her mind, which were, I’ve got to make sure I’m home when Fair returns.
Fair felt the stone of guilt drop into her stomach with a shuddering thud. It was a feeling she had never known before. She didn’t have a name for it, but it was a miserable feeling. I’m sorry mother. I just can’t go back home.
All the darkness of the past nine years began to pour through her head like rocks. They clattered down to her toes and slowly filled her up, until she couldn’t move. She knew she couldn’t go home. She couldn’t bear the weight of it again.
“I want to go home . . .” Fair said to the Woolly, “. . . but I just can’t.” I can’t go home to the memories of darkness and daydreams.
“I know,” said the Woolly. “It’s enough to make any hoomin crazy.” How does he know? Fair thought. There was a certain knowing in his voice and Fair knew he understood. She wanted to ask him a question but wasn’t sure if she should. Yes, she decided.
“Are you really crazy? Or do you just pretend?” she asked him.
“I feel like I’m going crazy every day,” he answered. “But I have a job to do.”
“What job?” Fair asked.
“Some day you will find out.”
Fair put the flask in the basket, and picked up the blanket roll. The Woolly hesitantly held out his arm. She took it and gave him an understanding kiss on his cheek, just above the edge of his beard.
“I want to say good-bye to my friends,” she said.
“Fair enough.”
The crowd parted for them like a slice of warm bread peeling off the loaf as Fair and the Woolly walked towards the wagon.
Fair looked up at Gibber Will and Azanamer, who sat beside him, once again.
“I heard what you said up there,” said Gibber Will. “And I got something to say to ya. You ain’t strong enough to be takin’ off like this after all them years in the cellar.”
“I’ll be alright, Gibber Will.”
“No you won’t. You’re weak. I saw you faint up there. It almost made me pass out just lookin at ya. Just come on home, now. You’re mother’ll be ‘spectin ya.”
“I just can’t.”
He dabbed his forehead and muttered, “I was afeared somethin’ like this was gonna happen. Afeared as a rabbit that you weren’t comin back home. But, I just can’t say no to yer sayin no. No is a hard thing for me to say.”
There was that feeling in her stomach again. She couldn’t leave her mother. But it was also true that her mother and father had also made her life miserable, even though they meant well. After all, they brought her into the world, and she was an O’Nelli—or a Zothiker—whatever that meant.
And why would her mother keep that name from her?
And Sauveren, he was always there for me, she told herself. He was there all those years when I couldn’t see a thing, except for the glow from my Luminamen. His cool wet nose. His thick, warm fur like a blanket against my shivering. My warmth in a cellar made of stone walls that dripped with water. But he wouldn’t be there if I went home.
Fair felt herself take an invisible step from a scary place of not knowing, to a sure place, where not knowing didn’t matter.
“I made a promise, Gibber Will . . . you know . . . do what is right . . .”
“Let consequences follow and all that. I know. But you gotta be brave to do that,” he said.
Azanamer spoke up, “Just look through your heart, Fair. That will keep you on solid ground. Rock solid.”
Fair touched her forehead and said, “I don’t know how yet, but I will . . . let consequence follow.”
“And please . . . ,” Fair could hardly say the words. “Please say good-bye to my mother for me.”
She turned around and looked into the crowd, hoping for a final glimpse of her. Gibber Will had spotted her, but stayed quiet. He snuck a peek at Lariel, who had her hand on her scarf. She was biting her bottom lip. It looked as though it took all the strength she had to keep from running out to wrap her arms around her daughter. The tip of her nose was pink.
Fair finally said, “You’re sure you don’t know who Selador is?”
Gibber Will blew his nose, reddened considerably by now, and said, “Everybody knows everybody in Cloven Grave. There’s no Selador round here.”
Fair looked inquiringly at her other friends. They all shook their heads.
“Then, tell me what to do. Where do I start?” Fair asked. “How do I find someone when I don’t even know where to look?”
Azanamer pointed down one of the several cobblestone streets that led out of the square. Sunlight glinted on the stones and the south-facing shops.“That street will take you out into a lesser known part of Cloven Grave where you might find what and who you’re looking for.”
“You mean the grassy path?” said Gibber Will. He turned to Fair and tried to talk her out of it, “No one uses that path. Leastways, I don’t. Once you get out of town, no one knows where it goes.” He paused and added, “There’s woods, and vines, and scariness.”
“I’m not scared. And I’m not worried,” Fair said. She was ready for adventure.
Fella Doon walked over to the wagon and said, “Afraid we gotta get a move on. The Harrold’s gonna be wonderin what’s taking so long. You know how he is about things . . . Time to say good-bye, Fair.”
“What are you going to say when he sees you didn’t bring me with you, Fella Doon?” she asked him.
“Don’t worry bout me,” he said.
Azanamer said, “Just follow the grassy path.”
Fair felt something comforting surround her and she knew Azanamer was right.
With a firm look of resolve, mixed with excitement, Fair turned on her heel and headed for the sunlit street, glinting with the promise of an awaiting destiny.
At the entrance to the side street she turned around and waved good-bye to her friends, while sunlight glowed in a haze behind her.
Harrold King leaned on his scepter. “Fella Doon, help me up. Put this, this threat—this demon—into my carriage.” Perhaps he thought if he couldn’t touch her, Fella Doon could.
Harrold King looked into the crowd. If eyes were daggers and stares were thorns, he wielded them now. “And bring her friends, too.”
It wasn’t going to happen quite that easily.
“More to say. More to say,” called out the Woolly.
Harrold King looked over to the wagon. “What, words from a madman?” he scoffed.
The Woolly looked at those with him on the wagon, then at Harrold King, “If you are going to take us away, these are my parting words, Harrold King: by Harvestaren Shoomin when bonfires light the fields at night, when frost begins to form on the withering leaves and the harvest is brought in, know this: when the three days of darkness descend, the walls of Osden Shorn will crumble and you will rule no more. I would curse you . . .” he spit upon the ground in front him, “. . . but no curse is needed. It is decreed.”
Harrold King had been silenced with the slap of prophecy. It was something he could not argue with. He pulled his scepter close to his chest, shook his wobbly chin and growled, “You’re mad!”
The Woolly ran up to the platform in a flurry of tattered clothing and dirty bare feet. Much to Harrold King’s dismay, the Woolly put his arm around Fair’s shoulder and said, “Open the door and lance the bull!”
Soon, the crowd was shouting as one, “Open the door! . . . Open the door!”
In a noisy spectacle of wood-creaking fury, Harrold King walked on his own two feet, back down to his carriage, cying, “Ahhh, my feet! They’re burning! Get me out of here. Immediately!” He snapped his fingers, “Come with me, sons.”
His feet had nothing to do with why he left. Hurt pride is often best covered with an excuse of some sort. Feet that hurt work quite well. “And Fella Doon?” growled Harrold King, “I want you to get in that wagon— and bring everyone in it to Osden Shorn.” Azanamer and Gibber Will looked at each other. The Woolly seemed oblivious.
Fella Doon nodded, “Right away, your majesty.”
Harrold King’s carriage drove away with the unstoppable sound of horse hooves clacking wildly on cobblestones. Whip slicing air.
After they left, Fella Doon didn’t move. He looked like he planned on taking his time about following orders.
Now, the only hoomin remaining on the platform were Fair, the Wolly, Fella Doon. And Miss Tilly, who was still locked up. The crowd didn’t seem to know what to do.
Everything went silent for a moment. Everyone waited for Fair to speak. She looked around and wondered what she could say. Nine years of darkness and loneliness, and now these faces are looking at me. So many of them.
Fair felt the Ruby Eye grow warm on her forehead. How strange. A thought came to her from the Scrolls of Truth:
You come into this life with a bundle of wisdom
that you are supposed to unpack and give away.
If you don’t give it away, it will get heavier and heavier,
until the only option is to drag it behind you.
She looked at Fella Doon who looked the other way, as though he intended to let her do what she pleased.
So she asked the Woolly, “Would you please do something for me?”
The Woolly looked at Fella Doon, who gave a slight nod of his head as he looked off into the distance.
The Woolly took this as a signal that all was clear.
“Of course,” he said. “Anything.”
“I need you to bring me my basket . . . and my blanket. Would you?”
The Woolly ran to the wagon. Gibber Will pulled the basket out from beneath his feet and handed it to him. Then he lifted the false floor of the wagon and pulled out the blanket. He rolled it up, tied a rope to both ends and gave it to the Woolly.
In a moment, the Woolly was by Fair’s side.
“Here you are.”
Fair took the basket and blanket. She put the rope over her head so the blanket hung down her back. She turned around and looked at Miss Tilly who had watched everything from her place in the stocks. Fair walked up to her and sat down beside her on the thin, wooden plank. It hurt to sit on it, because it was so narrow.
Some of hoomin moved from one foot to the other, uncertain of what might happen. This had been an unusual day.
Fair opened the basket and pulled out the chunk of bread, an old apple and a leather flask of water. “Here. You can have my midden meal. I’ve eaten well today.”
Miss Tilly looked ashamed and turned her head.
“When did you eat last?” Fair asked.
Miss Tilly kept her head turned away. She looked down. As Fair looked at her, she saw something that made her pull away in shock.
Miss Tilly disappeared.
What was even more strange, was that Sauveren sat in her place. Fair reached out to pet him by force of old habit, but before her hand could even touch him, Miss Tilly was there again just like before. Oh my, Fair thought. I’m seeing things. Her eyes stung, so she rubbed them with the heel of her hand.
Fair said, “Did you eat morning meal?”
Miss Tilly shook her head. Fair felt sorry for her.
“Last night’s even meal, then? Surely . . .”
Again, she shook her head.
“Yesterday’s midden meal?”
She shook her head again. Fair was amazed. She hadn’t eaten for a whole day.
Fair untied a knot of sky blue cloth that held the contents inside her basket. She reached in and pulled out the chunk of bread, then broke it into pieces. Miss Tilly looked at Fella Doon. He turned his head the other way.
Fair said, “It’s alright. He won’t say anything.” She uncorked the flask and gave her a sip of water. Then she put a piece of bread in Miss Tilly’s mouth. She chewed it ravenously. Fair fed her, one piece at a time, until the bread was gone.
She carefully put the apple to Miss Tilly’s lips and said, “Here, have a bite.”
Miss Tilly took a bite and when its sweetness passed over her tastebuds, a slow smile crept across her lips. She stole a shy look at Fella Doon.
After she finished chewing her bite of apple, Miss Tilly looked shyly at Fair’s flask of water. Fair uncorked the end of it again and put it to Miss Tilly’s mouth. Miss Tilly drank until the flask was empty.
Fair grew thoughtful. “Can I ask you a question?”
Miss Tilly nodded.
She stood up and went to the front of the wooden stocks. Miss Tilly’s hands dangled from the locks. Fair took a hold of her hands, then leaned over to whisper, “Do you know who Selador is?”
Miss Tilly shook her head.
“Are you quite sure?” Fair felt disappointed.
Miss Tilly nodded, looking sad that she couldn’t help. She slowly said, “I hope . . . you find what you’re looking for . . . and . . . thank you.”
The air stood still.
The crowd was silent.
Miss Tilly had spoken.
Someone muttered in disbelief, “She spoke to a hoomin. It’s a miracle.” Everyone looked at each other. “She spoke,” they repeated. They cheered.
Fair didn’t pay attention to the noise coming from the crowd. She hardly heard it. She said to Miss Tilly, “I know what it’s like . . . to be stuck. And hungry. I wish I could do more for you.”
“You’ve . . . done plenty, Fair. Before you go, there is something I want to give you . . . please . . .” She looked down at her lap, “My apron pocket. The small one.”
Fair found the small pocket and reached in. She pulled out a small, drawstring bag made of rough, brown cloth.
Miss Tilly nodded, “Take it with you wherever you are going. Payment for entry.”
“Payment for entry?” Fair asked.
Miss Tilly nodded, “Everyone has gates here. If you’re looking for someone, you’ll need to pay to enter.”
“You mean, I just can’t walk up to someone’s door?” Fair realized her mother hadn’t told her because she hadn’t needed to know.
“Harrold King has Protectors posted at every gate to make sure you pay.”
Fair opened the bag and poured the contents into her hand. She counted seven shackles, each one a different color, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and purple. She let them fall back into the bag, pulled on the cords to cinch it closed and slipped them around her wrist.
“Thank you, Miss Tilly. I need to say good-bye now. I have something I need to do.”
When Fair turned around, she announced, “I need to go now.” She touched the Ruby Eye on her forehead, absent-mindedly. She realized right then that this was her chance to ask for help, so she continued, “Does anyone here know Selador and where I might find him?”
Heads shook from side to side.
Fair’s shoulders slumped. “How am I supposed to find him? I don’t even know where to start.”
She looked over at the Woolly who held out his arm for her to take, “I haven’t got my head on straight, but you can’t do whatever it is you have to do alone. Can I come along?” He looked at Fella Doon to see if he’d let him get away with it.
Fella Doon said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to take you in to Osden Shorn. You, and your friends. I’ve got a family what expects me to come home at the end of the day.” If he didn’t do Harrold King’s bidding, he’d be punished for it.
Fella Doon reached into the neck of his shirt and carefully untucked a red scarf that he had loosely knotted around his neck. Everyone realized he was one of them. He had lost a wee hoomin in the whisking.
He quickly tucked it back out of sight.
The sight of the scarf made Fair think of her mother. Her voice. The sound of her reading to her by moonlight. My mother, she thought. Her red scarf. She’s already lost my brother. How can I leave her when she’s been so good to me? What if I never make it back home? She looked into the crowd to see if she could find her. Waiting. Silent. Yearning.
Lariel was there. She had stepped back into the crowd, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. She wasn’t sure she could fully trust Fella Doon, even though he seemed like one of the kind ones. Her secret speaker recorded the thoughts in her mind, which were, I’ve got to make sure I’m home when Fair returns.
Fair felt the stone of guilt drop into her stomach with a shuddering thud. It was a feeling she had never known before. She didn’t have a name for it, but it was a miserable feeling. I’m sorry mother. I just can’t go back home.
All the darkness of the past nine years began to pour through her head like rocks. They clattered down to her toes and slowly filled her up, until she couldn’t move. She knew she couldn’t go home. She couldn’t bear the weight of it again.
“I want to go home . . .” Fair said to the Woolly, “. . . but I just can’t.” I can’t go home to the memories of darkness and daydreams.
“I know,” said the Woolly. “It’s enough to make any hoomin crazy.” How does he know? Fair thought. There was a certain knowing in his voice and Fair knew he understood. She wanted to ask him a question but wasn’t sure if she should. Yes, she decided.
“Are you really crazy? Or do you just pretend?” she asked him.
“I feel like I’m going crazy every day,” he answered. “But I have a job to do.”
“What job?” Fair asked.
“Some day you will find out.”
Fair put the flask in the basket, and picked up the blanket roll. The Woolly hesitantly held out his arm. She took it and gave him an understanding kiss on his cheek, just above the edge of his beard.
“I want to say good-bye to my friends,” she said.
“Fair enough.”
The crowd parted for them like a slice of warm bread peeling off the loaf as Fair and the Woolly walked towards the wagon.
Fair looked up at Gibber Will and Azanamer, who sat beside him, once again.
“I heard what you said up there,” said Gibber Will. “And I got something to say to ya. You ain’t strong enough to be takin’ off like this after all them years in the cellar.”
“I’ll be alright, Gibber Will.”
“No you won’t. You’re weak. I saw you faint up there. It almost made me pass out just lookin at ya. Just come on home, now. You’re mother’ll be ‘spectin ya.”
“I just can’t.”
He dabbed his forehead and muttered, “I was afeared somethin’ like this was gonna happen. Afeared as a rabbit that you weren’t comin back home. But, I just can’t say no to yer sayin no. No is a hard thing for me to say.”
There was that feeling in her stomach again. She couldn’t leave her mother. But it was also true that her mother and father had also made her life miserable, even though they meant well. After all, they brought her into the world, and she was an O’Nelli—or a Zothiker—whatever that meant.
And why would her mother keep that name from her?
And Sauveren, he was always there for me, she told herself. He was there all those years when I couldn’t see a thing, except for the glow from my Luminamen. His cool wet nose. His thick, warm fur like a blanket against my shivering. My warmth in a cellar made of stone walls that dripped with water. But he wouldn’t be there if I went home.
Fair felt herself take an invisible step from a scary place of not knowing, to a sure place, where not knowing didn’t matter.
“I made a promise, Gibber Will . . . you know . . . do what is right . . .”
“Let consequences follow and all that. I know. But you gotta be brave to do that,” he said.
Azanamer spoke up, “Just look through your heart, Fair. That will keep you on solid ground. Rock solid.”
Fair touched her forehead and said, “I don’t know how yet, but I will . . . let consequence follow.”
“And please . . . ,” Fair could hardly say the words. “Please say good-bye to my mother for me.”
She turned around and looked into the crowd, hoping for a final glimpse of her. Gibber Will had spotted her, but stayed quiet. He snuck a peek at Lariel, who had her hand on her scarf. She was biting her bottom lip. It looked as though it took all the strength she had to keep from running out to wrap her arms around her daughter. The tip of her nose was pink.
Fair finally said, “You’re sure you don’t know who Selador is?”
Gibber Will blew his nose, reddened considerably by now, and said, “Everybody knows everybody in Cloven Grave. There’s no Selador round here.”
Fair looked inquiringly at her other friends. They all shook their heads.
“Then, tell me what to do. Where do I start?” Fair asked. “How do I find someone when I don’t even know where to look?”
Azanamer pointed down one of the several cobblestone streets that led out of the square. Sunlight glinted on the stones and the south-facing shops.“That street will take you out into a lesser known part of Cloven Grave where you might find what and who you’re looking for.”
“You mean the grassy path?” said Gibber Will. He turned to Fair and tried to talk her out of it, “No one uses that path. Leastways, I don’t. Once you get out of town, no one knows where it goes.” He paused and added, “There’s woods, and vines, and scariness.”
“I’m not scared. And I’m not worried,” Fair said. She was ready for adventure.
Fella Doon walked over to the wagon and said, “Afraid we gotta get a move on. The Harrold’s gonna be wonderin what’s taking so long. You know how he is about things . . . Time to say good-bye, Fair.”
“What are you going to say when he sees you didn’t bring me with you, Fella Doon?” she asked him.
“Don’t worry bout me,” he said.
Azanamer said, “Just follow the grassy path.”
Fair felt something comforting surround her and she knew Azanamer was right.
With a firm look of resolve, mixed with excitement, Fair turned on her heel and headed for the sunlit street, glinting with the promise of an awaiting destiny.
At the entrance to the side street she turned around and waved good-bye to her friends, while sunlight glowed in a haze behind her.
