Have you ever had your fortune told? What did they say? Did any of it come true?

Glossary/Pronouciation

Fjellheim ~ Fyell-hame
Ge-tà ~ though (gay-tAH)

Chapter 9: Celebrations and Parlour Tricks

Eamonn trailed behind Jareth and I as we waited to enter the city gates. There was a long line. People had come from all the surrounding villages to join the celebrations, all wearing their best and brightest dresses and tunics. Young girls had flowers amongst the ribbons in their hair that flew out behind them as the ran away from a group of rowdy boys wielding sticks.

“I would be in by now if I hadn’t gotten held up,” Jareth grumbled.

“Held up?”

“I got taken in for questioning." He gave me a look. "But I still managed to meet Eamonn before you.”

I sniffed and shrugged. “I got hungry, I had to eat. . .What do you mean, you got taken in for questioning?”

“With The Duke,” Jareth explained, tipping his head and scrunching his face as if that should have been obvious. “They’re speaking to everyone. Have they not talked to you yet?”

I shook my head. The pit in my stomach that had arrived as the soldiers did only grew. “What kind of questions?”

“They asked me how I ended up working at The Keep, how old I am, where I came from, things like that. Told em I have an aunt in the Sunlands but not sure exactly where, and that my parents died in the City of Dùn Ceò when they visited for trade, so I was taken in by the orphanage here. I proved a hard worker so when The Keep came looking for servants when I was around ten, I was snatched right up.”

I remembered the day he arrived well;  scrawny and in tattered clothing. His trousers had been so big he had to tie them around his waist with a frayed piece of string. It had taken the Matron in charge of the maids – an old woman everyone fondly called Grunnie - ages to scrub him clean and comb his thick dark hair.

My gaze flicked to the Torch at the gates of The Keep but a speck of orange in the distance. If those were the questions being asked, maybe that’s why I’d been left out? Lann had already answered most of those questions about me during my first run in with The Duke.

“Is that all they asked? They didn’t ask about. . .” Swallowing, I lowered my voice and gripped his arm. “They didn’t ask about a blanket, about a flag?”

Jareth shook his head slowly, dark mahogany eyes searching my face. “No, nothing about a flag. I think they’re talking to us men because they’re looking for recruits. They asked what my wages were and hinted that I would get more if I joined the army when I came of age. That’s still two years off yet, ge-tà.”

Why did that make me feel sick?

Noting my puckered brow, Jareth clapped his hands over my cheeks and gave an exasperated sigh. “Smile, Lèan. Look around. Take it in. Tonight the sun will barely set and we can drink and play games, listen to music and stories, see magic tricks and animals from far off places!”

“I need new breeches,” I said, and he huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Practical then fun. So unlike you. I’m meant to be the practical one, and you the fun one.”

“I am fun!” I cried out with indignation.

I would not lose my title of the fun one.
Looking around, I made sure the guards ahead were occupied before I grinned, grabbing Jareth’s hand in mine and dragging him behind me as I set of running for the city gates. Eamonn called out after us. Jareth laughed as we rushed through so fast we had to dodge and weave through the crammed streets. Unfortunately, Eamonn caught up, grumbling and apologising as he elbowed disgruntled people out of the way so he could grab us both by the scruff.

“What was that!” he barked, his face red and cheeks puffy as he caught his breath.

Jareth was panting next to me too, but I could have ran for far longer before I began to lose my breath. Climbing was good for that.

“We couldn’t be bothered waiting in line anymore. I knew you were right behind us.”

Eamonn looked unimpressed as he scanned our surroundings, keeping his hand in my shoulder as he urged us to keep walking until we came out into the wider streets. “Try that again and I’ll drag you right back to Dùn Ceò.”

“Sorry.”

Jareth and I shared a grin.

His hand slid into mine as we walked past vendors selling bright fruit and colourful spices, stalls boasting everything from straw dolls to jewel encrusted golden necklaces, jugglers, dancers and more. The air was heady with smells; sweet perfumes being proffered to young women, rare musks for hunters that made my nose wrinkle, and much to Jareth’s delight, the mouth-watering smell of cooking meat.

We followed that smell to the main square, the heart of the celebrations until the lighting of the bonfire near the river outside the city walls.

I turned in a slow circle to try and take in every spectacle while Jareth went straight for the food, licking his lips as he watched a huge hog being slowly roasted on a spit.

The famous fountain towered up from the centre of the square; a giant stone dragon curled around a carving of Beinn Na Nathrach, water tumbling from his gaping mouth instead of fire. A small wooden stage had been set up in front of it, currently hosting a puppet show. The red and white striped box had its own miniature stage where a brightly dressed jester was swinging around a ladder that kept hitting the pink faced king; much to the delight of the children watching. Their laughter rang out loud and boisterous, and I was unable to help but smile despite finding the puppet show far too childish for my tastes.

“What would you like to do first,” Eamonn asked.

“I don’t know.” How could one possibly choose with so much going on? It was exhilarating, my veins thrumming with energy as I laughed.

I’d never been around so many people before. Clothing rustled as they walked by, men and women of every class intermingling freely, but the difference in station was there in the shimmering silks worn by those of wealth, and the dyed linen dresses with the decorations most likely hand-sewn by their wearers. The styles differed too, some wore the traditional dress of the hotter countries across the straight, looser tunics and dresses in bold geometric patterns.

People hadn’t just come from the villages, but all over the world.

Bronze headbands encrusted with a single orange gem showed those who worshipped the southern Sun God, Solas; they believed his very exhale of breath fanned the flames of the sun during the day, and inhale cooled it to become the moon at night. Tonight was a big festival for them too, the day Solais would bless them with extra daylight to show his love and gratitude for all those who worshipped at his alter.

I could name many gods, and many religions who had no gods at all, but I felt no call to any. Jareth prayed, like most in this country, to the seasonal goddess Bera who’s shape changed as the world did; one of her forms being a dragon. Her counterpart was Manann, a god who came from the sea and could take many forms himself; traversing land as a mighty stag, and water as a shimmering salmon. Their stories I was most familiar with. Lann prayed often to Bera, a warrior as well as a mother figure. Her stories inspired me to climb, just as she did in the legend of her search for a dragon egg.

But too often I’d been shown that prayer did nothing. If there were gods, they were all too happy to ignore the pleading of the desperate and faithful alike.

Swallowing that bitterness on my tongue, I noted I wasn’t the only one with a suddenly sour expression. Much to my surprise, and probably the unease of the City Watchmen stationed nearby, there were a few tall, fur wearing merchants from Fjellheim setting up their own stall. The three older men had long, neatly braided beards, their hair equally long and brushed out, while the younger man had his white blond hair shaved short at the sides but kept long at the top.

I knew their gods too. Today, their Wolf God Fenris would fail to catch the sun as they believed he did every night because today he would have much further to run. Their presence was less accepted than others who’d crossed countries to sell their wares here. Fjellheim bordered us to the East, and our two countries were never far from war. While many would buy the reindeer pelts, axes, jewellery, and even buy contracts for their shipbuilding, there wasn’t merry conversation as was babbling around every other stall.

Eamonn, lingered closer as I went to inspect the clothing the Fjell’s had brought, remembering Lann’s advice to buy a fur-lined coat for the coming winter. Jareth kept close too, eyeing the hulking merchants who appeared more like warriors than half the soldiers currently barracked in The Keep.

As if he knew what I was looking for, Eamonn reached over to pick up a heavy looking coat.

The watching merchant said something to Eamonn in his lilting tongue, and while it didn’t sound like a threat, it made Eamonn turn a glare. The merchant waved his hand at me and repeated his words, and Eamonn gave a staggered reply. He was fluent in quite a few languages. . .well, nearly fluent, I amended, as the Fjell merchant and his companions snickered. From Eamonn’s flustered expression, cheeks red and mouth gaping, I knew something had been misunderstood.

“For your girl,” the merchant said slowly in our tongue. “Too big.”

“She’ll grow,” Eamonn replied, and then added something in their own language that made the others draw in closer.

They eyed each other speculatively then glanced towards the city gates before returning to Eamonn with a look of disbelief.

The older man shook his head and pointed to another coat draped over the table. “This is warmer. It will be better. You dragon riders can still haggle well, yes?”

Eamonn picked up the suggested coat and inspected it carefully. It had been dyed black, the hood much snugger than on the first, and the inside lined in thicker fur. Without asking, he thrust it at me and pulled the bag of coins from my belt loop, motioning to a pair of woollen trousers as well. I huffed. So much for getting whatever I wanted. Although, I did like the deep green colour of the trousers, and the bronze pattern sewn into the hemline. They almost reminded me of my blanket.

“I’m bored,” Jareth complained while Eamonn and the Fjell merchant got into arguing a price. “Come on, let’s look around.”

“We will,” I replied, watching the exchange between the two men with interest. It seemed friendly enough, the pair going so far as to grip arms once they’d reached an agreement.

The Fjell merchant looked me up and down. “Safe travels.”

“Why don’t you two go explore a bit?” Eamonn said quickly, stuffing my new coat and trousers under his arm. “Stay in the main square. If you can’t see me, I can’t see you, and I’ll tan your behinds for it, understand?”

“Yes, Sir!” Jareth grinned.

“Thank you!” I added.

Lann would never have let us explore alone.

We ran off before Eamonn could change his mind.

Every corner had a different sight to entertain. We listened to singers from the capitol in the south singing of brave knights, family vengeance, and torn apart lovers searching for one another through war and strife. Heard from Speakers with their crude drawings of events who brought news from every corner of the known world; like the coronation preparations for our Prince, the democratic elections taking place in the Republic of Soor across The Strait, and a new medicine that could cure Pox being tested in a country I knew only from the stories of its rainforests and rare animals.

The night was alive and brimming with life. I got so carried away, I even allowed Jareth to force me to join in the dancing taking place. I grabbed the hands of strangers, trying to copy their steps and follow the beat of the lively fiddle joined by a beating drum. Jareth was much better than I. He laughed as I made yet another mistake that caused us to collide with the couple next to us. It wasn’t until I stepped on his foot that he gave up and dragged me to the edge of the square so we could catch our breath.

Quick as a viper, he snatched up a jug of water for us and grabbed what food he could buy with his meagre savings. I drank heartily. My face was flushed from the reel we’d abandoned dancing to, but a smile still stretched my face all the same.

All upset from the last few days disappeared.

I took a deep breath and tipped my head up to the sky. The sun was beginning to dip behind the buildings, lighting the sky in a fierce red so the clouds overheard burned in an array of flaming colours, as if they’d been set alight by dragon-fire. It was shadowy enough to need the torches flickering on walls and in braziers, but it wouldn’t get any darker for the rest of the night than this eerie red din.

“Aren’t you glad we came?” Jareth asked, shovelling sweet pieces of tablet into his mouth.

“Yes.” Pinching a piece before he finished the whole bag, we began to meander down some of the smaller, quieter streets. “I’m glad you convinced me to come this year.”

He grinned, linking his arm through mine. “Next year, I might enlist in one of the tourneys. You can come cheer me on.”

I laughed, stopping by a stall boasting an array of wooden swords; some heavy for training, and some made of light wood meant for children. I nudged my friend and pointed to them.

“You should buy one so you can practice for your tourneys, or for when you leave me to run away and join the King’s army.”

Jareth huffed. “Do not make fun of me.”

“I’m not! I’m serious. Even if you want to join the Coimheadaichean you will have to know how to swing a sword.”

Jareth eyed the training swords for a moment with cheeks growing red before he grumbled something and stomped off. I tried not to giggle as I followed him. I was so pleased with myself, I didn’t pay attention as a grey cloaked figure tried to pass, and ended up barging right into me. The hunched figure stumbled.

“Forgive me!” I reached out to steady them, and a hand wrinkled and spotted with age grasped my own.

The strange grey veil falling from the hood was pushed back to reveal a man’s face, his strange opal eyes milky with age. He smiled with missing teeth. Something about his hollow cheeks, and rasping breaths sent a shiver up my spine. I tried to disengage, but for his age, the old man had a surprisingly strong grip. Jareth stepped to my side and puffed up his chest, as if he wasn’t a foot shorter than the man.

“Would you like to know if you will become a soldier, boy?” the man asked in a harsh and scratchy voice.

"N-No thank you, Sir.”

Opal eyes whipped back to me, and blue lips cracked as his smile grew. “You, you would perhaps be more interested in your past.”

My entire being froze.

“No,” Jareth repeated more firmly. “She doesn’t want your parlour tricks. Come on, Lèan. We should go, Eamonn will be looking for us.”

At the mention of our watcher, the old man released my hand, but I couldn’t make my feet move.

The part of me that ached for answers, now more than ever, would take parlour tricks and false woven stories over knowing nothing. And there was something knowing in the would-be seer’s unfocussed gaze. His eyes bored into mine but seemed to stare straight through me.

“Didn’t you want to see that Bard?” He’ll be on soon.” There was a pleasing edge to Jareth’s tone as he tugged on my sleeve more insistently.

The old man frightened him, but he was right, I did want to see the bard. He would be more likely to have real answers about the so-called emblem of The Torchbearer, and that might give me answers about my past. Or at least point me in the right direction, give me something to use to interrogate Lann who’d been so frightened when I’d mentioned The Torchbearer to him. . .

“We might yet meet again depending on what you choose to do tonight,” the old man said, pulling the grey veil back over his face to hide his crooked features and vibrant eyes from sight. “The East gate isn’t as well guarded.”

“Excuse me?”

But he was already backing away, and a wave in the crowd gave him a chance to slip away amongst the many bodies trying to squeeze down the street.

“Who was that?” Jareth whispered.

“I don’t know. . .”

“Don’t you?” He peered at me speculatively. “He looked like he knew you.”

My gaze chased after where the old man had disappeared, and another shiver went up my spine. There was no such thing as seers, not anymore anyway. If they’d ever existed, they had disappeared long before the dragons had begun to dwindle. A con-man, a scam artist, that was what he was, hoping to get a few coins by tricking two desperate orphans.

Turning away, I urged Jareth to move with the crowd back to the main square before Eamonn noticed he couldn't find us.