Hatter (6 page)

Hatta stood, prepared to seek the Cheshire Cat, but was almost sure it would be considered a mad thing to do. Sometimes trying to fit in chafed him.

A man entered and Hatta stood to greet him. “How do? I’m Hatta.”

“Hannon. I’m Tjaden’s brother. I remember you from last night.”

Hatta forced a smile. “Tjaden has assured me all is fine as feathers. I do believe we’ve struck up a friendship.” He turned to Tjaden. “Your betrothed has a curiously white dress. Whiter than most whites I’ve seen.”

Tjaden’s face came alive.

Ollie groaned. “Now you’ve done it. He’ll spend the next four hours explaining that it’s because Elora’s wearing it, that he’s the luckiest man in the kingdom, that he can’t believe today is finally here. Trust me, it’ll be unbearable.”

“Someday you’ll understand, my friend,” said Tjaden, still smiling. “It’s too bad you can’t marry that bow of yours.”

Their banter gave Hatta the opportunity to slip out. He walked the short distance to the wabe trying to figure out how Tjaden could be such a violent person, an Elite soldier, and yet love so strongly. As if he switched love and hate at will, caring deeply for his betrothed one day and hating someone the next day enough to kill.

He pitied the soldier groom. Putting on a masquerade of happiness day after day was taxing, but at least Hatta wasn’t two different people in the same body, like Tjaden. Maybe someday he could accept who he was and not have to make pretenses.

Without realizing it, Hatta had reclined on the lush grass of the wabe. A curious tove approached. Its spindly nose, more like a feeler, reached out to examine Hatta.

“And how is this fine day treating you?” Hatta asked.

The tove, which resembled a scaly-skinned badger, grunted and pawed the grass lightly.
Not happy about being kicked out of home.

Hatta glanced at the sundial behind the pavilion. The toves must have been evicted when it was set up.

“Don’t worry. A few more hours and you’ll have your happy abode back.” Hatta smiled at the tove and reached out to feel its snaky skin. He found it smoother than it appeared, like leather.

Hungry.

The tove waddled off on short, scaly legs leaving Hatta to wonder how a snake and a badger would mate to produce such a curious animal. He spent the hour considering and conversing with the animals in the wabe—cardinals, borogoves, a mouse, and more wandering toves. When guests arrived for the wedding, he stopped talking to them.

From the time people started to gather until the happy couple stood in front of Tellef—he hardly had to use the shelf memory trick any more—very little time passed. Hatta remained at the back of the congregation and concentrated on not doing anything out of the ordinary.

He grew restless during the ceremony and turned his attention to a pair of raths that rooted in the grass nearby. The green, pig-like animals moved irritably, huffing to themselves.

As Tellef neared the end of his discourse, Hatta watched the raths, willing them to come closer. It must have worked because one of the petulant animals roamed to within touching distance.

Under the guise of adjusting the laces of his boot, Hatta bent and whispered, “Why so uffish?”

As the animal turned to face him, Hatta heard Tellef ask, “Do you, Tjaden and Elora, accept one another as husband and wife?”

But Hatta never heard the lovers’ answer, for just at that moment the rath outgrabe loudly—a bellowing whistle combined with a strident sneeze. Hatta turned bright red and looked around, but to his pleasure no one stared or pointed at him. They chuckled at the timing of the rath, and clapped for the newly married couple, but no one realized Hatta had instigated the disruption.

Why do I subject myself to these situations?
he wondered.

The blush faded from his face and Hatta snuck away from the wabe before being compelled to attend any more festivities.

Chapter 6

Turmoil

The liquid metal rolled silently across Hatta’s palm. It flattened momentarily after rolling off and landing on his other hand, then tightened into a bead. It was much heavier than water, so much so that he could feel the weight of the droplet on his palm. Passing it back and forth a few more times, he wondered how metal could be liquid. Though the small vat of molten tin to his right was metal, it had been heated. Mercury was liquid in his hand. It looked like metal and acted like metal when mixed in a compound, but Hatta was unconvinced.

Perhaps it’s putting on a front. Acts one way, while trying to hide the turmoil underneath.

When he woke up that morning, Hatta knew he would never save the kingdom—definitely a blue day. Not like a bluebell or a sparkling lake, but steel blue like a cloudy winter morning. It was difficult to make it through such days, but there was hope. If things went according to plan, he would soon create again.

One part mercury, four parts tin. Hatta poured the vial of mercury into the smelted tin and stirred the mixture. Using a measuring ladle, he scooped the mixture onto glass in flat molds. The polished liquid spread to fill every nook and corner. He wanted to touch the reflective surface as he had done with the mercury, but knew he would burn himself and risk marring the perfect lining.

Master Aker entered the workshop and examined Hatta’s work. The mercury mirrors were the clearest mirror they made, a significant improvement over plain tin mirrors. In other parts of the kingdom silver mirrors were available, but they were much too expensive for a town like Shey’s Orchard.

“You’ve learned quickly, Hatta. I have to admit I was skeptical at first.”

Hatta smiled. In one week he’d become proficient at the basics of mirror making, and already felt unfulfilled. Almost every mirror Master Aker made was plain—either rectangular or oval with very simple frames. Hatta longed to make something special, something unique.

“I thank you, Master Aker.”

“You don’t have to call me Master. You realize that, right?”

“Yes.” He shrugged and added, “Habit.”

“I’m fortunate you showed up in town just when I needed help. A hard worker and always cheerful.”

Hatta was relieved to be seen as happy. He didn’t want the struggle in his head to show, and a cheerful persona came easiest to him. Whatever madness he felt had to be veiled. Mad people caused problems. Conflict. And Hatta couldn’t abide conflict.

“Master Aker, a favor?”

“Sure, Hatta. What is it?”

“I’d like to make some mirrors.”

Master Aker glanced at Hatta’s day’s work with a confused look.

Hatta said, “No, I’d like to make some mirrors of my own making. I have…ideas.”

“If you buy your own supplies, I have no problem with you using the shop in the evenings.”

Hatta was thrilled. “Oh perfect! And I can sell them in your shop? You can keep the money, of course.”

“If you sell any mirrors we’ll split the money. But I have to warn you, people in Shey’s Orchard are very conservative. Even the merchants that come from the Provinces are only interested in simple designs. I traveled to Palassiren last year and saw some fine work, most of it very stylized. But folks in the city are different than here.”

Hatta barely heard the warning for he was already planning his designs. His reservations about the day were gone. After all, his mirrors just might be the key to saving the kingdom. He liked the sound of that.
His
mirrors.

That night he poured over his sketches under the flicker of lamplight. Filled with inspiration, he created new and wonderful designs no one had ever imagined. The sun had set hours before, but Hatta was energized. When his ideas for designs began to dry up, he started constructing a new frame. This one would be neither square nor oval. It would be new. It would be his.

As he worked on the frame the workshop grew brighter. His inspiration filled the workshop with radiance, and he felt someday it would fill the world.

His exhilaration was disturbed by the sound of the door opening.
Who would come into the workshop in the middle of the night?
he wondered.

“Have you been at this all night?” asked Master Aker.

Hatta didn’t know what he meant. Why was Master Aker out of bed when he should be sleeping? In the brilliant jumble of mirror ideas, he couldn’t find an answer.

“Hatta? Have you slept at all?”

He shook his head. “Why would I…” Hatta couldn’t tell if the light in the workshop was a result of his superlative creativity or if the sun had risen.

“If you’re going to do your own projects, you’ve got to be ready to work in the morning. You’re no good to me falling asleep all day.”

“Yes, I…” Reality was fading, a worse reality trying to take its place. They merged and he couldn’t tell exactly what was real. With downcast eyes he said, “I had no idea.”

With a sigh Master Aker muttered, “Just when I think…,” but he didn’t finish the thought. “Get a couple hours sleep, Hatta. I’ll wake you when Tonin arrives.”

Hatta felt like he would never need sleep again, but in no way would he argue with Master Aker. In his bed, in the small quarters at the back of the workshop, the image of his first mirror filled his mind and his joy made sleep elusive. He must have dozed eventually because Master Aker’s knock woke him a short while later.

Tonin waited in the shop, inspecting the mirrors he had purchased. The burly merchant traveled from Far West Province to towns throughout the southern half of the kingdom, trading with craftsmen, and selling supplies along the way.

Hatta wrapped a dozen mirrors in the sheepskins Tonin provided, secured them with twine, then carried each one to the wagon. In the meantime Master Aker and Tonin bartered for the supplies. Hatta was thrilled to see two large vials of mercury among the wares; a good portion of it would be used in
his
mirrors.

While Master Aker and Tonin finished their business, Hatta climbed into the trader’s wagon and riffled through the piles of commodities. Tools, brushes, hoops, dyes, ores, cups, and dishes comprised the bulk of it. Just when he’d given up on finding anything of interest he noticed a silvery blue soil in a pouch at the bottom of a barrel. It wasn’t powder; it was too coarse and earthy, liked crushed ore, but unlike any he had seen.

Outside the wagon, it gave off a silvery blue sheen in the sunlight. Master Aker and the trader were in the middle of a conversation so Hatta said, “Pardon my interruption. What could this be?”

“If the man who sold it to me can be trusted it’s cobalt ore. Similar to iron, says he. I’ve been carrying it for over a year and have yet to find an artisan with a use for it.”

Hatta ran his fingers through the pulverized ore. The color did not cling to his fingers like dye would. It was exactly the zest his mirrors needed. “You’ve found an artisan with a use for it.” In his high spirits, referring to himself as an artisan was thrilling.

“Give me four coppers, and I’ll be glad to lighten my load.”

Hatta handed him two days wages without looking away from the curious ore.

“Would you be interested in any other colors? I’ve a few more shades somewheres.”

That was enough to rip Hatta’s attention from his discovery, and he nodded enthusiastically.

Tonin disappeared into the dim interior of the enclosed wagon. Though his girth filled the wagon from one side to the other, he somehow found room to rustle around. Hatta waited anxiously, listening to
clinks
,
bangs, thuds,
and
creaks
, until he finally heard, “Aha!”

When Tonin squeezed out of the wagon’s narrow doorway, half a dozen pouches filled his arms.
A treasure, each one,
thought Hatta.

The trader opened the pouches to reveal contents similar to the bluish ore, but in a rainbow of colors: magenta, saffron, aquamarine, lime, lilac, and plum. Hatta couldn’t remember ever feeling happier. The trader gladly accepted more than half of Hatta’s meager savings, oblivious to the fact that his unique ores might someday be pivotal in saving the kingdom.

Chapter 7

Pigs

The rough wood in one hand and familiar knife handle in the other helped Chism channel his anxiety. He wandered the cold streets of Knobbes whittling to kill time. It was better than sitting in his room counting the wooden planks in the wall or rubbing his leather until his thumbs bled.

Knobbes, the capital of Far West Province, was the biggest city he’d ever seen, besides Palassiren. The captain of the garrison adjacent to the city walls claimed there were no rooms for the Elite squadron, so they took rooms in the city. Lieutenant Fahrr was furious, claiming it was a sign of the growing tension between the Provinces and the interior of the kingdom, but he had no authority to press the issue.

Most of the squadron was thrilled at the opportunity to board at an inn. In the two months since lodging in Brito, they hadn’t seen a decent city, and couldn’t reach the tavern of the Borderhaven Inn fast enough. But Chism abhorred alehouses of any type. He didn’t care about the judgmental glares of the tavern owners or spending a few coppers. It was giving up self-control to a wineglass or mug that was beyond his understanding. Wine had only been a destructive influence in his life and Chism wanted nothing to do with it.