Chapter 3 Evera
EVERA
Traveling back to our market stall from the community well with a bucket of water, I squinted up to the sun directly overhead.
It was midday already. Out of the way of fellow shoppers, I sat the bucket down to flex my fingers.
My brother would be growing anxious, with all that remained to be done before the festivities began.
Preparing our stall was a sizable undertaking for one man.
With a sigh, I dusted my hands on my skirts, the old, muted fabric lacking any patterns or embellishments.
I retrieved the bucket, which was lighter than when I’d filled it at the well, and made my way back to our wagon and the patch of dusty land Aureus had staked out for our booth.
We were south of the city in the outer grounds designated for the festival’s market.
A line of darkened soil, the effect of the old bucket’s steady leak, marked my path as I walked.
Our chestnut mare, Sorrel, nickered when I approached, tugging a smile at the corner of my lips. I set the bucket down before her, and she dipped her white-striped muzzle to investigate. She sniffed, then gave a disgruntled snort and turned her attention to the pouch that hung at my hip.
“I don’t have anything for you,” I said, stroking absentmindedly at her forelock, its shade a touch lighter than the copper coloring of her coat.
From the back of the wagon, my brother spoke over the noisy shifting of items as he sought something.
“You’ve spoiled that mare,” Aureus called in his typical lecturing manner.
I rolled my eyes and scrunched up my nose at Sorrel, shaking my head as if the two of us shared the secret of mocking my brother.
“Spoiled,” I tsked in a quiet voice, scratching the underside of her chin. “You know, she did carry us all the way from Elrune.” This time, I spoke loud enough for Aureus to hear. “I do believe she’s earned something for her efforts.”
Coming around the side of the wagon with a table support hefted on one shoulder, Aureus grunted. “Should the market go well, she’ll have less weight to carry on the way back.” He laid the support beneath the tent stand next to a disorderly stack of crates and baskets.
“Did you bring the rope?” I asked. Three years ago, we left the festival with half of what we arrived with, and, with too much space to move about the wagon bed, several bottles had broken on the journey back.
Aureus wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand and sighed. “I did not.” He stood in the shade of the tent to get out of the direct sunlight. Still, though, I could make out the dark circles of exhaustion beneath his deep-set blue eyes.
Twisting my lips, I patted Sorrel’s neck. There was nothing to be done for it now, aside from purchasing new rope. Perhaps we would see how sales went. I thought to quip a remark about the lack of sleep and forgetfulness, but I held my tongue.
We’d traveled all night, and though I’d rested intermittently between bumps in the path that jarred me back to wakefulness, Aureus had stayed alert the entirety of the trip, steering Sorrel and keeping a watchful eye on the trees.
The pass through the Edthiel Mountains was known for the thieves living in its ancient woods and the ambushes they staged on lone travelers.
However, Ayrenven promised a steady flow of people making their way north to the capital, so we were never isolated. There was safety in numbers.
Aureus made another pass to the back of the wagon, returning with a stack of boards that would create the tabletop where we would display our wares.
I wanted to help my brother, do something—even just hold the support beams in place—but he wouldn’t let me.
I curled my left hand into a fist and relaxed my fingers again to assuage my irritation.
I was capable. Aureus knew it too, and perhaps that maddened me the most. Behind the veil of the back room of our shop, I was an equal.
But out here, where others could see me, I was expected to know my place.
“Something is bothering you,” my brother noted.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
“Say that to the set of your brows, Evera.” He scoffed, and I shot him a pointed look, further narrowing my eyes for theatrics.
He’d always said I was an easy read. The truth was, I didn’t care enough to conceal my feelings or worry about what people thought of me.
Or at least I hadn’t before. Not until the rumors surrounding me began to put pressure on Aureus and threaten our shop.
My brother had enough burdens to shoulder him without me causing more problems. So I’d been trying to behave. To be complacent.
“I would like to wander the stalls,” I said, not wanting to fight.
Something shifted in Aureus’s expression, a softening of his features, as if he could see in my eyes the way his expectations of me—society’s expectations of me—were slowly beginning to chip away at my soul. Good, let him see.
Aureus didn’t push. Instead, he reverted to sarcasm, a language we shared. “Right, three silver canins enough, then?” He worked the cords of a leather pouch tied to his belt.
“That should do it,” I quipped, not missing a beat. The value of a single silver canin was equivalent to fifty-four ferres, and not something Aureus would keep in his coin purse. Few were bold enough to carry around such a valued coin, let alone three.
Withdrawing two copper coins, Aureus quirked an apologetic smile and offered the roughly minted ferres. “I wish things were different.” I knew he spoke true. “But you must believe I only want what’s best for you.”
Right. What’s best for me. I sighed and took the coins. “I know.”
“Chin up,” he said, lightening his tone again. He touched his finger to the tip of my nose. “Go, spoil your mare.”
At his touch, I fought the smile twitching at my lips. Damn him and his way of always knowing how to lighten my mood, how to counter my prickliness.
“I’m still unhappy about this.” I gestured loosely to the mess of crates and unassembled sections of tables with a nod. There was still so much to be done.
Aureus ran a palm along the blond braids at the side of his head to the leather cord that kept his shoulder-length hair tied up. Though I expected him to counter with dry wit, his tone was level, somber. “It’s how the world works.”
I nodded. “Right.”
“Go, enjoy the market.” He held up a palm to display hot spots where blisters would form. “You’re not missing out on much, I assure you.”
“At least wrap your hands,” I said with a frown. “There are cotton strips and straps of leather in my bag, and somewhere amid this mess is deer tallow. I packed several jars of it.”
Aureus tsked. “Go. I am fine.”
I relented, unsure how my irritation had turned to concern. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Take your time, and Evera—”
“Yes, yes.” I pocketed the two coins, familiar with his lecture. “Stay on the main roads where it is safe. Avoid alleys. Don’t draw attention to myself.”
Aureus swallowed and averted his gaze. Nodding, he turned back to his task, and I drew my brows in. Whether he was simply tired or something else was on his mind, I was unsure, but Aureus was acting off. Better not to push it, though. If he wanted to speak his thoughts, he would.
As I walked, I found myself drawn into the sights and sounds of the festival preparations.
Those with stands were hurrying about, arranging their wares and hanging banners.
The smell of pitch, used to waterproof stall coverings, lingered in the air, the scent reminiscent of freshly quenched coals.
And amid all this was the undeniable buzz of excitement.
Of all the festivals of the year, Ayrenven was the most anticipated and the only event that drew in such a vast quantity of unique goods and wares from the western lands.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I eyed a display of carved wooden statues. I stopped momentarily to examine their intricacy. The largest was an owl roughly the size of my forearm with eyes of a strikingly clear stone.
“Crystal quartz,” the merchant behind the table said, dusting wood shavings off his apron. He sat on a stool, carving a small figurine. I hadn’t even noticed him.
“A symbol of the sight?” I asked, intrigued.
Standing, the man placed his newest piece—a wolverine snarling and posed in an aggressive stance—on the table. “That’s right. You know more than most do of the old lore. I’m impressed.”
I hummed. He was an older man, and the sparkle in his eyes gave him an air of trustworthiness. He reminded me of my mentor. “Isn’t that what this festival is for?” I countered. “To celebrate the moon gods and their spirit lines?”
The man laughed. “Yes, well, to most it’s just an excuse to gather, to drink, and to barter uncommon goods.”
“I find the lore fascinating,” I admitted. The man was easy to talk to; his candor reminded me of Leighis. My attention caught on an animalistic mask in the middle of the collection, lying flat alongside others. Absentmindedly, I traced a finger over a silver filigree brow.
“You want to see it?” the man asked.
“I haven’t the money to buy anything,” I said truthfully; the two coppers in my pouch would not scratch the value of any of his wares.
Still, after a brief hesitation, I gave in to the allure and took it into my hands to admire the artistry.
Silver ribbons at each side of the mask trailed beneath it, catching on a breeze and shimmering. “What is it?”
The carver scratched at his short beard with one hand. Without any notable features—such as ears or snout—the mask could have depicted any number of animals.
“Obscurity,” he offered, though it came across as more of a question.
Amusement laced my tone as I caught a glint in the old man’s eyes. “You don’t know.”
“Obscurity, child,” he said, mock wisdom in his tone, “is the gift of being whoever you want to be. Or being no one at all.”