Without taking his attention from his duties, Tellef greeted him. “How did you sleep, Hatta?”
“Like a bear in winter, thank you. Where might a cobbler be found?” He smiled uneasily. Tellef and Brune were not friends and Hatta didn’t want to explain his shoelessness to Tellef.
“He’s not the best in the kingdom, but Whit should be able to mend any problems you’ve got. You’ll find him right up this street, a hundred paces toward the wabe.” He didn’t notice Hatta’s socks.
“I thank you, and wish you a pleasant morning.”
Hatta started to hurry out, but heard, “Oh Hatta…”
He poked his head back into the kitchen but kept his feet carefully concealed and showed Tellef a crooked smile.
“Have a seat out there. Breakfast will be ready in no time.”
“The offer is kind, but I’ve matters to attend to that don’t want to wait.”
“Suit yourself.” Tellef looked up for the first time. “I really am sorry about last night. I hope you don’t hold a grudge.”
“No, grudges don’t agree with me. What’s past is forgotten and forgone.” He smiled again and let the door swing close. Pulling his hat as low as it would sit, he made his way past the soldiers and into the street.
Whit’s selection of boots was disappointing. Only two pairs of boots fit, and both were an unremarkable tan. They’d do in the short term, but Hatta would have to fix that. He thanked the cobbler, paid him six coppers and went in search of Tjaden.
He was directed to a home on the outskirts of town, surrounded by orange and lemon trees. Some rows of trees were bare, but ripe fruit hung on others. When he called at the door the man he assumed was Tjaden’s father emerged and looked at him curiously. The gaze made Hatta forget why he’d come. The only thing he could think about was how embarrassed he felt about giving away his pants.
“Did you get your pants back?” The man was stoic.
Hatta didn’t know how to take him so he forced a smile. “Yes, thanks. My name’s Hatta.”
“Mikel. What can I do for you?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Sir. Would these be your trees? The colors are splendid. I especially care for the deep greens and orange.”
“Thank you, Hatta. With the wedding today I need to—“
“A wedding! Yes, of course. You wouldn’t be Tjaden’s father?”
“I would. I mean, I am.”
“Ah, yes. Where might he be found?”
Mikel chuckled. “Tjaden’s the only one not helping with preparations. He went with Ollie to their little archery range, just on the other side of those lemons.”
“I thank you.” After a quick smile Hatta turned toward the lemon trees.
“Hatta.”
The sick feeling in his stomach returned. Before he had a chance to apologize for the previous night, Mikel said, “You’ll be at the wedding won’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” Hatta blurted, not registering what Mikel had said.
“I said we’d be glad to have you at the wedding. It’s in the wabe at brillig time.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. What if I did something inappropriate? Or forgot to do something appropriate? Or did something appropriate at an inappropriate time?” Considering the possibilities, it was a miracle anything ever turned out right.
“Don’t worry about last night. I heard Brune left town, and as far as I’m concerned we’re better off. The town owes you a debt of gratitude.”
Hatta didn’t see it that way, and his guilt clashed with the relief that Mikel held no hard feelings. He didn’t know how to express it so he grinned and turned back toward the grove. The man meant him well so he tried to sow Mikel’s name in his mind as he passed between lemon trees.
Mikel
.
My-cull. Cull oranges. My-cull.
It might work.
Before he was out of the grove he was startled by the
swang
of a bow and
thunk
of an arrow. He followed the sound and came upon the short friend of Tjaden, who appeared Tjadenless at the moment.
Swang!
Thunk.
The weapon seemed to shout profanities at Hatta. One arrow was lodged in a bullseye forty paces away with two just outside of it.
“You’re almost an excellent bowman,” he said, startling the shooter, who was a few years younger than Hatta.
“What do you mean ‘almost’? You won’t find a better archer in fifty miles. Maybe a hundred.”
“Why don’t you get them
all
in the bullseye?”
“Every weapon has limitations. The wind can shift. Not all arrows are perfectly fletched and balanced.”
“I know a fletcher who makes perfect arrows. He’s the best there is. The king’s advisor requested arrows for the soldiers but the fletcher was disinclined. He refused Captain Mark—, Mark—,”
Markum? Markellin?
“Markin,” said the archer.
“Yes, Markin. The fletcher only makes arrows for sharpshooters. He might make them for you; he’s the best there is.”
“Yeah, you said that. Who is he?”
Hatta thought for a moment. “Either I can’t recall his name or he never told me. Perhaps it’s Fletcher.”
“You mean he
is
a fletcher? He makes arrows?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.”
“Where does he live?”
“In Frenala, it’s north of here. Were you in the company of Tjaden when he fought the Jabberwocky?”
“What? No, I wasn’t. You’re a bit odd, what’s your name?”
Hatta’s heart sank. His efforts to put on a normal front weren’t working. “Hatta.”
“I’m Ollie”
“Ollie. Ollie. Hmm, that might be tricky. Would you know why he killed the Jabberwocky?”
“Isn’t it obvious? It was a monster that terrorized the kingdom. Would you rather have it still killing humans?”
“No, I didn’t mean he shouldn’t have killed it. But it seems the kind of thing one would have a reason for. What’s that medal for?” He pointed at a metal rectangle on Ollie’s chest. It was white and gold and featured a wicked claw.
“I helped Tjaden kill the Jabberwocky.”
“I was told you weren’t there when he slew it.”
“Yeah, I was the one who told you that. I punctured its wing with an arrow a week before Tjaden found it. The injury helped him kill it.”
“I’m saddened I never got to meet it. What would a creature like that tell you?”
Hatta didn’t expect an answer, but Ollie said, “I’ve never heard anyone wonder about that. It actually told Tjaden and Elora a lot.”
Ollie nocked another arrow and continued before Hatta could inquire. “You’ll have to ask
them
about it, though.”
Swang!
The jarring bowstring made Hatta flinch like a bird.
Thunk
. Another near bullseye.
“If you had better arrows you might hit the bullseye every time. Do you always wear your uniform?”
“No. Tjaden’s getting married today and I’m his witness.”
Swang!
Flinch.
Thunk
.
Hatta took a small step back and asked, “Weren’t you telling me about the Jabberwocky?”
“I only got close enough to shoot some arrows at it, the day King Barash was killed.”
“Why did it kill the king?”
“Why would a watermelon wear waders?”
“Ooh, a riddle? I don’t know, why
would a
watermelon wear waders?”
“No, I was just saying I had no idea.”
“I heard the new king is very young.”
“I’ve met him,” Ollie said.
“Would he be smaller in stature than you?”
“Of course. He’s only nine years old.” Ollie looked offended.
“You’re short but you’re not a small person. I can tell these things sometimes.”
Ollie’s expression changed from insulted to intrigued. Hatta smiled and felt the familiar calm come over him, and hoped it affected Ollie the same way. If nothing else, it hid the cloud inside his head from outsiders. Better they think he’s happy rather than mad. More and more Hatta wondered if the reverse was true.
The silence discomfited him. “Have you shot many people?”
Ollie shook his head. “Never. But some day I’ll have to and I’ll be ready. Tjaden’s an Elite and I’m his Fellow. Do you know about the Elites?”
Hatta knew more than he wanted to. Forcing down painful memories, he looked at the plain brown boots to hide his pained expression, and Ollie mistook it for ignorance.
Ollie explained, “Elites are the best of the best. There are no better soldiers in the world. Each Elite has a Fellow, kind of like a partner, but more in the background. Tjaden and I just graduated the Academy less than a month ago. Soon we’ll start going on missions.”
Hatta blinked and gulped to clear the traces of tears. “Where?”
“I don’t know. There’s a lot of conflict on the border with the Western Domain.”
“Will you have to…kill people?” Hatta hoped no one he loved was ever Ollie’s target.
“That’s what we do when it’s necessary. We’re soldiers.”
“Is there any other way? To build peace?”
“It’s much more complicated than that. It would take days to explain…”
Swang!
Flinch.
Thunk
.
“…but right now I need to find Tjaden. The wedding starts in a couple hours.”
“Yes, that’s it! Tjaden’s why I came. Where is he?”
“He went to his brother’s house to dress.”
He smiled at Ollie. “Well, might we descry him?”
“Tjaden might be a bit distracted today. He’s full of nerves and needles.”
“I don’t mind,” said Hatta. “Perchance a discussion will help ease his nerves.”
“Suit yourself,” Ollie said as he headed to retrieve his arrows. He returned with a full quiver. Walking toward the town he said, “It looks like you’re already dressed for the wedding. You’ll be there, right?”
Hatta had no excuses. Though he was sure he’d do something to ruin another occasion, he agreed to go.
“Why did you leave Frenala?” asked Ollie, slowing to allow Hatta to meet his stride.
“I…had to.”
“Why?”
“Because I had to.”
“That’s not a reason,” said Ollie.
People usually didn’t ask so many questions. But Hatta’s mind was unfogged. Some days his fate seemed cloudy, but today his destiny shone as clear as a twinkling star.
“I’m actually a very important individual,” he admitted humbly. It wasn’t something he bragged about, but he had accepted his fate. “It wasn’t safe for the kingdom if I stayed there any longer.”
“Are you a noble or something?”
Hatta shook his head. After looking over his shoulders he whispered, “Someday I’ll save the entire kingdom.”
Ollie looked dubious. That wasn’t uncommon on the few occasions he had revealed the truth about his destiny.
“If memory serves, your Tjaden did the same, Ollie. Why not me too?” Stated that way it did seem a little mad, but that didn’t change the truth of it one iota.
“I can’t argue with that,” admitted Ollie. “But Maravilla doesn’t exactly need saving right now.”
Hatta wasn’t sure how to respond, but he noticed the leaves change from a deep green to the paler yellow-green of lemon trees. They’d passed the last row of oranges. Hatta stopped to examine the trunks, curious if the lemon trunks were yellower like the leaves.
Ollie distracted him, “What about your family? Do they still live in Frenala?”
“Frenala? They were never in Frenala.”
What a strange question,
thought Hatta.
Ollie’s eyebrows rose. “Are you an orphan?”
“Orphan. That depends on how you mean.”
“How I mean is someone whose parents are dead.”
“Yes, well in that case you mean me.”
“Me too,” said Ollie without joy. “Since I was four.” He waited, but Hatta had said enough.
Ollie continued. “My parents died of an ague, along with half a dozen other townspeople that winter. What about yours?”
The tread of their footfalls on the gravel was the only sound. He didn’t want to talk about his family any longer.
“Shall I tell you what I can’t make sense of?” asked Hatta. “Insanity. A curious word indeed. After all it means the opposite of
in sanity
. Perhaps
outsanity
would be more accurate. Do you think it might catch on?”
Ollie stopped and waited for Hatta to turn and face him. “Hatta, what happened to your mother and father? What did they die of?”
“If you put it that way, Mother died of Father and Father died of Brother.” He stared at the peppery brown gravel, feeling alone. “Hatta, he just ran. He loved his brother too much to stay.”