First Light (10 page)

A quick glance around the camp, and I saw that all were sleeping, save for the lone figure standing at the back of the wagon, my discarded flower in his hand.

Gemine stared at me, and though my mind screamed at me to run, I could not help asking, “Did you come to release me or to persuade me to give you the pearls?”

“Go,” was his only answer, and hearing footsteps behind him, I hesitated no more but ran toward the trees, following the pearl’s faintly glowing trail. My legs seemed to have regained their full function, and I ran after the escaped treasure, away from the thieving gypsies. A shout echoed behind me, then all was silence, save for my footfalls. I wondered what had happened but told myself it did not matter. If Gemine was punished because I escaped, it was no more than he deserved— wasn’t it?

Minutes flew, and still I was alone. Instead of feeling tired, my legs seemed to grow stronger. It was absurd to be chasing what should have been an inanimate object; but I had escaped the gypsy camp. Half of my wish had come true.
Charmed bracelet, indeed!
Was this what Gemine meant—
does the bracelet have the power to grant wishes? If so, how many?

Perhaps, like the story my father used to tell of the genie in the lamp, the bracelet could grant three wishes.

Three pearls— three wishes.
It made sense. I nearly laughed out loud at that thought. There was nothing at all logical about the past two days— about mysterious carriages and drivers and escorts, swine that communicated with people, and a bracelet that glowed and granted wishes. Yet I could not dispute the truth of any of it.

The pearl was now so far ahead that I could not see it, but it left a neat trail of glowing dust behind. This allowed me both to follow and to see where I was going in the cloudy, moonless night.

Feeling a sense of déjà vu, I ran on. I looked back several times, but there were never any gypsies or thieves following me.

The dust grew fainter; I was falling farther behind. I dreaded the thought of telling Merry Anne that her pearl had rolled away and I’d been unable to retrieve it.
Or that I’d used one of her wishes.
Though, somehow, I also imagined she might understand.

I stopped suddenly, catching my breath as the edge of a cliff caught me unawares. My toes jammed in the tips of my shoes as I stopped abruptly, just in time from plunging to certain death.

With wide eyes and mouth agape, I looked in awe at the sight before me. A good distance below, thousands of lights twinkled in the darkness. Beneath their glow I could make out dozens of buildings, thatched roofs, stone exteriors, and cobbled streets.

“Tallinyne,” I murmured, astounded by its size. How amused Gemine must have been when I’d asked if it was very big. It was
enormous
. From my vantage point on the cliff I couldn’t even see the end of the lights stretching out in every direction. In all my life I’d never imagined such a township, so many people crowded so close together. I wondered what they ate and where they got their food from, as I couldn’t see room for any fields between the crowded buildings.

How would I ever find Cecilia or Merry Anne? My heart sank as I collapsed on the ground, tired and overwhelmed by the task still before me. I searched for the pearl but found only a tiny circle of faintly glowing dust.

No matter
, I told myself. It wasn’t likely I’d ever find Merry Anne in the boroughs below.

But you will
, a voice inside me said. And looking out at the city, I was reminded that I had already done the impossible— twice escaped and found my way here. At least one wish had come true. But I wasn’t quite ready to use another one, at least not without a good effort on my own to find Merry Anne. I could get down from this cliff by myself. If need be, I could search each and every house myself, too.

I knew exactly where I would start.

As dawn broke behind me and the low clouds began to disperse, the first rays of light reached out to the vast sprawl below, unveiling a before-unseen castle. Far across the township, on a mountain of its own, its turrets rose, grand and imposing.

Even from this far away, I could see it was immense and glorious. Merry Anne had mentioned something about Cecilia and the castle.

There I would begin.

When I awoke the next morning, I did not find myself in the company of a merry knitter or a band of gypsies. Instead I was blessedly alone, the remaining two pearls cool against my skin, and the whole glorious day before me. Time was mine to do with as I pleased— except that I needed to eat.

Ignoring the gnawing in my empty stomach, I cleaned myself up as best I could, running my fingers through tangled hair, shaking out the wrinkles in my dress, slipping on my worn shoes. I felt a new kind of excitement as I set out to explore. I’d always loved wandering the hills and valleys near home, but today I would see entirely new places and be among more people than I’d ever imagined.

Unfortunately, my first, up-close impressions of Tallinyne were disappointing. As I left the shelter of the mountain, I passed row after row of dumpy huts strung together, forming the edges of the township. Everything about them reeked of poverty— more extreme than even I’d known on our farm. The thin boards making up the buildings were warped and bent, all faded to a dull gray. Clothes more ragged than mine strung along lines between them, and skeletons of tiny, patchwork gardens wilted in the dry ground. The whole earth here was barren, cracked, and brown, as if rain had not touched it in a very long time.

Walking as quickly as possible, I moved through these neighborhoods, trying not to meet the staring eyes of the gaunt children I passed. A few held their dirty, bare hands out— a plea for help, a morsel of bread, a drink of cool water. The people here looked as skeletal and withered as their dead crops, as if they, too, had been deprived of water a very long time. I swallowed, suddenly aware of my own, intense thirst as I hastened forward, forcing one foot in front of the other.

Not one soul smiled; no sounds of song or laughter reached my ears. I’d very nearly decided Tallinyne was the worst place imaginable when, gradually, the surroundings began to change.

Beyond the hovels, a bustling market center arose. These buildings were colorful and surrounded with more lively people. A man swept his stoop before rolling a cart of fruit across it.

“What’s your best deal on the loaves today?” A woman asked a shopkeeper. Two children played around her skirt.

My feet slowed, and my nose sniffed the air appreciatively as the savory smell of fresh bread wafted from a bakery. Two doors farther, and my mouth watered at the tub full of steaming corn set out front.

People seemed to be everywhere. I watched, awestruck as coins changed hands and food stuffs were bartered and traded. Again, I wondered where the fresh vegetables and fruits came from— certainly not the dry lands on the outskirts of town.

“I’ll give you two pence and these apples for a side of that bacon,” one man said to another.

The people were bartering for and purchasing their food. It was a fascinating concept.

I passed a cart of sausages, and noting how far the sun had climbed in the sky during my loitering, worked to ignore the array of delicious smells. Refocusing my eyes on the distant castle, I pushed deeper into the city, eager to see more.

Beyond the market, more cottages sprang up, these much cheerier than the first. Curtains fluttered at the windows, and flowers and grass, brownish though it was, lined the cobbled paths to the front doors. Everything about these simple houses was neat and tidy, reminding me of home. I saw no evidence of wealth, but I doubted the people living here were quite as hungry as those I’d first seen. My spirits lightened, though the hunger in my stomach grew intense, and I felt a blister forming on my heel.

By late afternoon I’d reached another type of district— this one far different from the noisy, crowded market. No shopkeepers stood outside hawking their wares. Not a single street cart was in sight. Instead, delicate paths led the way to the brightly painted entrance of each shop. Overflowing flower boxes framed the windows, and wooden signs hung above each business, proclaiming its purpose.

A bell tinkled, and two finely attired ladies exited a shop, round boxes in each of their hands. Glancing up, I noted the sign above their heads advertised it a millinery shop. A dainty carving of a plumed hat was engraved beside the word.

An entire shop for hats?
I couldn’t keep myself from staring at the displays in the large window. At home, a hat was a simple straw fixture, a practical accessory for keeping the sun off one’s head. I’d never had my own hat before and had oft-lamented the necessity of wearing one of my brother’s smelly, sweat-stained ones. But my mother had been most insistent about preserving my milky-white skin. I’d never shared her concern and went bareheaded outdoors whenever possible, though my yearly outbreak of freckles in early summer always sent her into an apoplexy.

“It turned out beautifully. I can’t wait to wear it with my blue silk,” the first woman exclaimed as she came down the path.

“He always does such fine work,” the other agreed. “Is that what you’ll be wearing to tea on Friday?”

Swinging their boxes, they passed by me as if I didn’t exist.

Absently, I brought a hand to my face, staring at the rosy-cheeked, lightly freckled girl reflected in the glass window of the shop. I’d not had the use of a hat since the fire, and it appeared my complexion had been easily spoiled.
No matter
, I told myself and turned away, continuing to gawk at the array of shops before me.

Dress shops, shoe shops, shops full of tools, shops filled with toys for children, entire shops devoted to candy. I’d never dreamed of such things— I
still couldn’t
— and found myself peering into windows and turning around in astonishment to watch when people left those businesses having purchased the wares for sale there.

Buying one’s food in the market had seemed extravagant, but this was too much to comprehend. Two young boys licking some kind of striped stick came out of a candy store; a woman left a dressmaker’s shop, holding a long package wrapped in paper. An older gentleman and a little girl holding a beautiful porcelain doll left the toy maker’s. I watched with envy until they were out of sight, having disappeared down the next street. Telling myself I was far too old to play with dolls, and I
was
— though the features on that one had seemed so real I still longed to touch it— I again started down the road.

I felt dizzy with curiosity and desire and… hunger. Clutching a hand to my stomach as it growled loudly, I realized I wasn’t going to make it to the castle if I didn’t stop wasting time and hurry. I hadn’t eaten a full meal since breakfast with the gypsies the previous morning, nor had I sipped a drink of water all during the long, warm, day. Determined to reach my destination— and, I hoped, Merry Anne— before I fainted from want, I squared my shoulders and continued down the street, forcing my attention on the castle, which grew ever nearer.

It wasn’t as near as I’d thought. Both night and the temperature fell, and still I wandered through the vast city. No kind soul offered me food or shelter, but instead several gave me looks of disdain, my impoverished form being out of place with the elegant neighborhoods near the palace.

It took all I had to keep one foot moving in front of the other, and I had no doubt that, had I fallen, some servant would have swept me up with the rubbish. But I was resolute in my determination and at last arrived at the castle just before dawn, bone weary and half-starved.

An enormous stone wall circled the palace, a tall, iron gate at its center. Up close the fortress looked neither friendly nor inviting, but, hoping I might find both something to eat and information about my sister, I made my way toward the guards stationed at the gate. When I was but ten paces away, they moved together in a quick, fluid motion, swords crossed to block my entrance.

I sighed but lifted my head and met their gaze. “I mean no harm and am but seeking some women who may reside— or work— here, I believe.”