Whisper and Rise (6 page)

I saw a group of women, wearing long floral dresses and tall bonnets, standing together on the opposite side of the road. They held their faces huddled close and made random glances in my direction. I smiled politely and approached them to ask for help, but with a flurry of giggles, the women scuffled away, leaving me helpless to the road and the wanting of the men behind me. With no place to go and the path back to Sianna’s store cut off by my pursuers, I quickened my pace.

Farther into town I found an open shop full of wagon parts. A big man with silver hair and covered in leather pounded a strip of metal with a heavy hammer, spraying sparks high into the sky. Like fireflies, the sparks floated for a moment, then descended and joined hot flames in an open stone fireplace. I had seen a metal smith work before, but this man was different. I guessed he was a wagon builder. Wide wheels and wooden carts filled the area around him. I moved closer, seeking safety from road, but when the man failed to notice me, I skirted away.

Everyone had been right—DarMattey was amazing. Bright colored signs decorated the storefronts and large glass windows allowed people to stare inside and see what each merchant offered. I declined my urge to enter them, fearing the cruel faces of their patrons, but a sparkling little store at the end of the row was too brilliant for my inhibitions—and I was running out of options as the three young men continued to follow me at a distance.

Set apart from the others, glass spanned this store’s entire building, reflecting the sun in every direction.
Schill’s Glass and Science
was etched into the window with neat white letters. Curious to discover more, I pressed my face to the pane. On a narrow ledge inside, an assortment of odd devices reflected even more light. Some were covered in shiny silver, others had bronze, and all were magnificent. A small black-haired man, wearing a pressed white shirt and a gray vest, dusted the various pieces with an exquisite feather. The man noticed me and waved for me to enter.

When I opened the glass door, a bell jingled overhead. Prisms and jagged orbs hung from the store’s wooden ceiling, twisting and showering the room with brilliant color. Everything inside this place was immaculate and polished, including the floor, though partly covered by a woven rug. I held my breath and stared in amazement at the spectacle.

“Welcome, young lady,” said the man. He stopped dusting and examined me carefully. “You are not from DarMattey,” he told me. “How may I serve you this fine morning?”

“I—I’m only looking,” I answered. I peered over my shoulder back at the road. The men had caught up and stood outside the shop.

“Ah, and look you will,” said the man. He motioned with his arm across the store. “Tell me what you seek.”

The man’s quick wit and ardent manners made me take a step back. His voice was sincere, but also told me that he intended for me to trade for something. I had come inside seeking safety.

I turned back toward the door, planning a quick dash past my pursuers in the road. “Thank you. Good fortune.”

The man reached across me and blocked the door. “So—you’re from Aisling.” He bowed politely. “My name is Oscar Schill—owner, glassmaker, and scientist.” He grabbed my fingers with his little hand and pulled me. “Please, as you mentioned, look around. Ask me all the questions you desire.” He stood straight and extended his arm in a graceful motion. “If you are indeed disinterested in what I have, then accept my wishes for a pleasant day.”

I gazed around the store, seeking another way to escape. Aside from a thin door in the back, offering an option to flee, there was nothing to help me. The man’s voice had been calm, but I wasn’t certain I could trust him. Still, he was offering sanctuary from my other fears and the men outside seemed to have no interest in entering this place.

I noticed a long brass tube with a bulging glass piece on one end. “What is that?”

Oscar’s eyes widened and he grinned, revealing polished white teeth. “That is a sight glass,” he said. “A scope.” He removed the device from the shelf and held it carefully in his hands. “It is one of the most modern devices around.” He pointed one end at me and looked through the other, making his eyeball the size of the glass. “This device provides a vision to the heavens, increased perception of distance, and” –he paused— “sight to the past.”

I didn’t want to see my past.

Still the item was peculiar. I reached out to grasp the tube, but Oscar pulled it away and returned it to the shelf, carefully stroking its surface with a skinny finger.

“If you know how to use it,” he said cautiously.

I frowned, discouraged by the man’s approach to business. The merchants in Aisling were never this protective of their goods. Of course, none of them offered anything like
this
place. I pointed to a small glass box. It had a thin tube leading out one corner and a small square opening near the top on one side.

“What’s that?” I asked.

Oscar smiled and clutched the glass square close to his body. A white creamy liquid rocked inside it, like a slow wave. He carefully handed the box to me with the tube pointing at my face. As the sun caught the glass, it reflected a dazzling flash into my eyes, forcing me to squint.

“Of course,” said Oscar. This is my Karebalon. When you are brave enough, take a large breath and blow into the tube.”

While I glanced watchfully at the little man, he stared back, pleading with eager eyes. Unlike the scope he had removed from my grasp, he was offering this object to me. I wondered why. With hesitation, I filled my lungs and blew into the glass tube. A dozen square bubbles poured out of a small opening and glistened in the light.

“Amazing!”

Bubbles, all of them square, bobbed up and down in the sunlight and bounced from the delicate glass shelves and odd devices. I allowed one to land on my arm and studied it closely.

“How is this possible?” I asked. I held the cube to my face and examined the milky liquid.

Oscar took the Karebalon from me and replaced it on the shelf. “That, young lady, is the magic of science.”

I was hooked. I wandered around the store for the remainder of the morning, examining every device and asking questions—so many flooded my mind. I had never been to a place like this and had rarely been as amazed. Oscar eagerly explained the origins and usefulness of each object and seemed as excited to touch them as I was. The day had taken a delightful turn, and when I checked to see if the men were still watching from the windows, no one was there.

In a glass case at the rear of the store, I took interest in several crystals, arranged neatly on a white cloth. At my request, Oscar unlocked the case and displayed a long blue crystal with angled edges.

“I bought this from a Morgan trader,” he said. “It’s a blue garnet.” He held the crystal high, allowing a million flashes of brilliant blue to sparkle across the store. “Although not as rare as their blue diamond, it captures the light well.”

I lifted my necklace for the man to see its diamond charm.

Oscar gasped and reached out to touch the briolette. He stopped short, as if fearing to make contact with the diamond. “You have been to Morgan?”

I looked at the floor and shook my head. “No, sir, I’ve never been there.” I stopped talking and returned my charm to under my dress.

He watched me, as if he expected me to hand him my necklace. Then I noticed something familiar in the case.

“Sir?” I asked. I pointed to a green emerald the size of an egg. “May I look at that, please?”

“My emerald? Why yes, of course.” Oscar retrieved the crystal and handed it to me with eager eyes.

I turned the known stone in my hands, examining the tiny golden lines that crisscrossed along the flat surface on one side. I traced one finger along the lines and remembered the last time I had seen this emerald. My breath shuddered. That was the last evening I had spoken with Sean; the last time he had held me. The last time he—

“Young lady?” asked Oscar. “Are you alright?”

I opened my eyes and wiped them with my sleeve. “Yes sir.” I held the emerald forward so he could see I didn’t intend to keep it. “Where did you get this?”

Oscar lowered his brows and took the crystal from me. “This is unlike any precious stone I have ever seen,” he said, caressing its golden lines with his finger, just as I had moments earlier. He stared at the emerald with envy, as if expecting it to do something. Then he looked up at me.

“I bought it from a delightful young woman. Her eyes matched its color, and its mystery.”

“Nia?”

“Yes! Yes, that was her name.” Oscar’s face brightened more. “She was from your village. Do you know her?”

I nodded. “She showed me this crystal once.”

Oscar’s face lifted and he pressed closer to me. “Then tell me—how does it work? What part does it play in your ceremonies?”

A piece of guilt broke free from my throat and settled into my stomach. Nia had told me once about telling a fantastic story to sell an emerald she had found, this emerald. She had deceived this man to make a profit. I didn’t know what to say, so I answered honestly.

“I don’t know, sir,” I told him. “It’s a mystery.”

The man reached for my arm and turned to face me. He stared into my eyes, forcing me to shift my stance in discomfort. I felt him searching my face for something more.

“No,” he finally told me, “it seems you don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders and turned back toward the case, cradling the stone like a small child. “It is remarkable, though.”

Shadows overtook the sun, casting us in darkness and silence. I had stayed longer than I intended. While Oscar locked his glass case with a small silver key, I stepped toward my exit.

“Wait!” Oscar’s voice pleaded while commanding me with sudden authority.

I stopped and waited to turn, allowing tiny chills to fall from my spine.
What did the man want?

“Your diamond,” said Oscar, as if he understood my thoughts. “Will you sell it to me?” He scampered to the door and stood near enough to let me know I shouldn’t depart before bartering.

I shook my head. “No, sir,” I told him. “This necklace was a gift. I won’t part with it.”

Oscar held out his hand. His fingers trembled. “May I see it, please? The diamond?”

His intentions apparent, the man was harmless; I knew he wouldn’t rob me. I gently unclasped and removed my necklace. It was the first time I had taken it off since receiving it as a gift on my Day of Promise. I coiled it onto Oscar’s open palm.

“Magnificent.” Oscar turned to inspect the diamond in the small amount of light the overhead clouds allowed. He removed a round eyepiece from his pocket and stared through one end, peculiarly close to the charm. After a wide smile, he replaced his device and offered me back my necklace.

“You have a rare beauty, young lady,” he said, wiping his forehead with a small cloth. “And you are welcome in my store anytime.”

I smiled back at him and attached my necklace. Its touch made me feel comfortable again, as if I had been missing it for a long while, though it had only been a moment.

“Thank you, sir,” I told him. “You’ve been a wonderful host.”

The man held my hand in both of his. “Please, call me Oscar.”

I opened the door and smiled as the bell jingled my exit.

The weather was turning fast. Thin gray clouds passed overhead, giving way to darker ones from the west. A brisk warm breeze blew from the south. This didn’t feel like a normal summer storm; there was premonition in the air and it seemed like the world had changed while I had been in Oscar’s shop. The people in DarMattey ignored me as I walked back to Sianna’s store. They finished their business along the row of shops and then left in haste, glancing nervously at the sky while dashing away. I didn’t mind their hustle, and appreciated the change while stepping casually along the promenade.

Reaching the little store at the end of the buildings, I fought the swirling dust that followed me and forced open the door. As I stepped through, a hint of minty rose met me.

“Rhiannon!” Madeline rushed to me and embraced me with a smile and a hug.

Over her shoulder, I saw her father, and Colin—and then Nia. My best friend turned to meet my gaze. I hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Hello, Rhiannon.” Nia pried away her sister and gave me a warm embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” I told her. “Congratulations.”

Nia was shaking. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said. “In DarMattey.” She smiled at me and stared with those emerald green eyes I knew. “Madeline said that you had come already, but somehow—”

Something smacked the store and tried to break the glass window.

I ducked, startled, and turned to see a broken tree branch flop to the promenade. The wind must have carried it; there was no one left outside.

Nia grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the counter where the rest of her family huddled from the sudden storm. “Now the day feels disrupted.” Her words faded into the swirling noise outside.

We stayed away from the windows, for good reason; the winds pummeled them with gravel, leaves, and small pieces of wood as the afternoon lengthened to a dreary evening. Jake lit a pair of oil lanterns, which gave the store a warm glow that wavered whenever a gust of air slipped under the crease in the front door. Madeline and Sianna wandered upstairs to prepare a meal, Jake and Colin laughed and joked loudly, while Owen cradled little Sadi and did his best to keep up with Connor. That left Nia and I to talk again. Between rackety interruptions, we occupied the afternoon with news and enlightenment.

“I haven’t heard what the Elders will do with the bandit,” Nia told me, in a low whispered tone. She glanced up nervously when her father’s laughing voice filled the store, and then spoke again. “Once they get the scrolls back, I hope they’ll send him away.”

As I leaned close to answer her, a firm hand on my shoulder made me jump. “I knew you two would talk about mischief once you were together.” Owen lowered his face and glared at us. “You ladies should chat about the wedding, or your favorite dresses. Not the trouble with strangers.”

“I’m sorry, Owen,” I said, saving Nia from his scolding. “I feel like I’m responsible—causing you danger every time there’s an escape attempt.”

Owen released Sadi to the open arms of her father and knelt close. “Don’t worry about us,” he said to me. “I’ll accept the risk while keeping the bandit captive. Cael and the men do a good job of catching him when he gets away.”

Owen’s mention of Cael reminded me of my visit to the Bauer well. I wanted to tell Nia about the land I had purchased, but needed a private moment. The land north of the mountain was a sore subject with her father. I thanked him for his efforts to find the scrolls and quietly waited for the subject to end.

“Ladies, will you help us bring sandwiches down?” Madeline leaned over the stair railing. “The food is ready.”

Dinner wasn’t a feast, but was more than I had eaten the previous night. For that, I was grateful. We gathered on the floor of the store, stretching between the aisles, and talked through the evening. One of my favorite treats of the evening was the small jar of green and white, circle-shaped candies that our hosts shared. Covered in sugar, they tasted like green apples, with only a hint of tart and plenty of sweetness to make my mouth want more. Whenever Sianna offered, I eagerly accepted a handful.

The last traces of daylight disappeared, leaving us to the sanctuary of Sianna’s store. That’s when the rain started. At first, tiny pellets spattered against the glass like a million little footsteps marching down the panes. Then the downpour came. The force of the blowing water and mud made the windows rattle in their frames. Then a flash of lightning scorched the glass. Thunder shook the store.

The children screamed and ran toward the corner. The tiny flames of our lanterns danced their fear of extinguishing, and we all held our breath. I winced as another bright flash sent Sianna rushing toward her daughter.

“Momma, I’m scared,” Sadi cried, reaching up to her mother.

Thunder rocked the store again, this time shaking the shelves. Several small boxes fell onto the floor. I jumped and crouched low in an aisle; it was the only place to hide. My fingers and arms trembled.

“Momma!”

“There, there, it’s all right.” Sianna consoled her children in the corner, stroking Connor’s hair while squeezing Sadi.

As Jake joined them, I moved closer to Nia. I wasn’t afraid of the storm; I had seen plenty of them, some even worse than the one currently throwing a tantrum overhead. But this was a strange place and I had no confidence in the protection offered by the walls around us.

No one spoke while the deafening violence continued into the night; conversation would have been futile in light of the fracas the storm was raising. We sat in silence, keeping company with our own thoughts. The children’s eventual nods to slumber indicated the evening was lasting longer than anyone had planned. Eventually, Jake and Sianna took their sleeping children upstairs, and Colin and Madeline buried themselves in a pile of blankets that they had brought from Aisling. Faded shadows moved and jostled from the lone remaining lantern on the counter before it, too, lost its grip on the day.

Owen wrapped himself with a long coat and lay in an aisle. His rhythmic snorts soon announced his sleep, leaving Nia and I to whisper alone.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” I shaped my pillow into a clump so I could lean on it.

Nia shook her head, laid a knitted blanket next to me, and buried her face. Then she peered from underneath. “Yes.”

Even in the dark, I could see the green of her eyes; they revealed her honesty. “There will be no more adventures for us,” I told her. “Now you’ll be the responsible one, the married one.”

Nia shuddered and twisted her face. “Perhaps,” she said. “But I’ll still look forward to seeing you. Nia and Rhia—we’ll be friends forever.”

I took a deep breath and smiled. “Yes, we will.”

I wanted to talk more, to gossip with my friend, but Nia’s eyes were shadowed with fatigue. The day must have been long for her and tomorrow would be full of excitement. I wished her goodnight, kissed her on the forehead and rolled into my covers to sleep.

~ O ~

The next morning, I tried to ignore the portent of the mist-covered windows. A rainy wedding day was never a good sign; that’s what I had always believed. Nia must have forgotten, or did a good job of deceiving us. She woke before everyone, humming and singing the entire morning. Her rapturous smile kept anyone from denying that it could be a fantastically beautiful wedding.

We ate a quick breakfast—more dried biscuits with gravy—and dressed for a wedding. My lavender skirt appeared pale and worn compared to the elegance that Nia displayed. Her gown glittered, even in the dim light, with forest green sleeves and dazzling green beads stitched into the seams to match her eyes. Her shoes sparkled every time Nia spun in a circle, which she seemed to do all morning. When Nia would sit long enough, Madeline weaved braids and ribbons into her hair. She, too, looked plain in her brown dress and simple boots.

“This isn’t a celebration of the Fae,” she said, explaining why she didn’t wear the ceremonial gold and white I had expected. “This is Nia’s day in DarMattey.”

Nia continued her overdose of charm, which threatened to become annoying, but I smiled back and wished her good fortune as I brushed the tangles from my hair. Then Nia’s family piled into the back of Jake’s wagon and I prepared Maeia for our ride.

The clouds hung low and heavy, hinting that they might burst at any moment, but that wasn’t my worry. The muddy road was thick and high on the horses’ ankles. It grabbed at the wheels of Jake’s wagon and made the journey slow. I followed well behind, unsure of the route, and unwilling to accept the flying bits of mud thrown my way from the wagon wheels. I waved at Connor, who seemed to enjoy the day as much as the bride did, bouncing back and forth across the wagon while Nia chanted melodies of good fortune.

We strode through the middle of town, which was empty, save a few men who offered polite nods toward our procession. When we passed the little glass shop, I searched for Oscar, but his store was lifeless and dull, void of the brilliant color I had seen yesterday.

Once past the large square storefronts, the road narrowed into a pair of deep ruts cut into long grass that reached my feet. Tiny droplets, remnants of the night’s rain, released their grip on the grass and coated my boots with moisture. Inside, my feet were warm, but my body shivered from the cold. There was no sun to warm us that day.

Slow and silent, except for Nia’s singing, we journeyed past rolling hills, fenced pastures, and scattered oak trees. Jake finally stopped at a large red barn, the largest I had ever seen. It stood with bright contrast to the gray of the skies that stole the color from the landscape. Beyond the barn, a tall square home crested a low hill.

“Here we are,” announced Jake to an eruption of relieved sighs and cheers from everyone in the back of the wagon. “Mind where you step as you climb down. It’s slippery.”

I had never been to a wedding away from Stone Meadow, and was unsure of what to expect, but the absence of crowds, music, and roasting meat reminded me of the loneliness of Raisa Bannon, the widowed faerie queen. I suddenly felt sorrow for Nia. A wedding was supposed to be a celebration. This place—and this day—seemed to offer nothing but melancholy and sludge.

“Rhiannon?” asked Nia, stopping to stare at me while her family scuttled into the barn. “Are you okay?”

I smiled a lie. “Yes,” I told her. “I’m happy for you, that’s all.” I rushed to her to continue my persuasion. “It’s an exciting day!”

I fought twists of pain as I said the words. They tore at my chest, revealing the sadness that lurked beneath. I also missed Sean.
What would our wedding have been like? How would he have looked?
I saw Stone Meadow in my mind and saw my love standing before me, with his brother on one side and his father on the other. I imagined the celebration dancing that could have been, and the feast and Father’s drinking. It could have been wonderful. But that day would never happen.

And the weather never changed. Inside the barn, I was forced to hide my doldrums with even more persistence. The remnants of the animals—all their hair, their soiled hay, and manure—lingered in mud that was as thick as the smell. Still, Nia hummed and sang while the men shoveled the mud away and the women tied colorful ribbons around the beams.

More men from DarMattey arrived. They brought a dozen long benches, lining them in straight rows inside the cleared space. The men looked handsome; they wore cravats around their necks and straight black coats over white collared shirts. They removed their hats and bowed at every introduction to the women, revealing flattened hair and manners I had never seen before.

Despite the persistent rain, the barn started transforming into a brighter, more satisfying location for the sacred ceremony. I was happy for that, and for Nia. She deserved a pleasant day.

“What do you think of DarMattey?” asked Sam, who had somehow sneaked behind me and startled me with a tap on my shoulder.

When I turned to answer him, I saw two young men, with similar curly hair, standing over him, prying with their eyes. I nodded politely and left them with a dry smile and an excuse to help with more decorations.

That’s when I met the Teagan sisters; they weren’t twins, although you wouldn’t know it from their matching blue dresses. Genna was the older one; Grace was a year younger than Thomas was. They had cut their hair short, so it hung barely above their shoulders. It was pretty, however odd to me, and every time I saw one of them passing by, I caught myself staring. The two were kind, though, and certainly polite. None of the Teagan family ever spoke an ill phrase, even when a glass pitcher fell from a table and shattered on the ground. Like Nia, they seemed overly-pleased with the day.

I expected reverence in the ceremony, but, as I sat on one bench next to Madeline and watched my best friend seal her life to Thomas, all I heard were the words and promises spoken. It felt empty, but perhaps that’s the way I was feeling. Like the weather, I was low and ready to burst.

When the ceremony ended, and after Nia kissed Thomas for the first time as his bride, I clapped with the others, though it was only a motion. I wanted more than this. Nia deserved more. My best friend, with all the luxuries she could ever want, and a family name to carry her forever, was marrying under a broken sky. I wondered how many of the people here knew that she had nearly become a faerie. She was almost royalty in Aisling; here, she was a common stranger.