The Dream-Maker's Magic (16 page)

I
hitched a ride with Ayler, who happened to be passing through Thrush Hollow on his way to Wodenderry. He was patient through the tearful good-byes as I said farewell to everyone at the Parmer Arms, and quiet during the first two hours of the trip, as I sat beside him and tried not to be depressed. I had never been outside of Thrush Hollow in my life, and I almost felt as if I was ripping off a layer of skin as I left the town behind.

But gradually I was possessed by a sense of excitement as well as intense curiosity about the land we were passing through. Ayler, an inveterate wanderer, pointed out interesting sights we encountered, bade me watch the changeover in vegetation as we headed south, and told me the names of the small towns we stopped at. During the four days of the trip, we stopped quite often. Sometimes we would merely get something to drink at the posting house; other times we would have a leisurely lunch or dinner before taking a room for the night at a boardinghouse or an inn. Still other times we would just stroll once through the market square, nodding at people who glanced our way, and then move on.

The point, of course, was to allow anyone with a secret a chance to come up to Ayler and whisper in his ear. The Safe-Keeper was a familiar figure in many of these hamlets, I soon learned. Whether or not people wished to unburden themselves, they were always pleased to see him. The tavern-keeper would not take his money; the posting houses brought us meals for free. We always paid for our beds at night, but at a greatly reduced rate. While I was with him, I was accorded Ayler's status. No one told me secrets, but everyone welcomed my presence.

While I was with him, everyone wondered why.

“So, Ayler, found yourself a girl, have you?” an elderly man asked at our very first stop on our very first day.

“No, she's just a friend. I've known her since she was quite little.”

An appraising look, then a shrug. “Well, that's your own secret,” he said. “What'll you be drinking today?”

Some version of this conversation occurred at every stop that entire day. If Ayler was as disturbed by the questions as I was, he gave no sign. But, early the next morning, halfway between towns, he obediently pulled the mare to a halt when I said I wanted to take a short break on the side of the road. He fed the horse an apple while I disappeared into the brush.

When I returned, I had exchanged my flat shoes and dress for scuffed boots, loose black trousers, and a long white shirt with the tails hanging out. I had settled a bulky vest over my shoulders to camouflage the shape of my body. I also had pulled back my long hair and tied it with a bit of leather. I knew from experience that anyone who inspected me casually would think I was a boy.

Ayler's inspection was pensive as always. “So you think that's the best disguise to wear as we continue our journey?” he asked, no inflection in his voice.

I shrugged. “It's easiest. Fewer questions.”

“And when you arrive in Wodenderry?”

“I had always intended to search for work dressed as a young man,” I said, climbing into the wagon and settling on the bench. “I don't know how safe the royal city is for young women on their own.”

Ayler settled next to me and slapped the reins. The horse started forward at her usual phlegmatic pace. “Depends on where you go. What kind of work do you think you'll look for?”

I turned my head a little to watch the passing countryside, which seemed to turn even more greenly lush as we proceeded. It was the very beginning of summer, only a breath or two past spring. It had not escaped my notice that yet another chapter of my life was about to open in the golden season. “What I know is inns and restaurants. There must be plenty of those in Wodenderry, and one or two must have work for willing hands.”

“Indeed. And I know of a place—” Ayler began, and lapsed into silence. This was habitual with him as he considered a new thought; it might be five minutes between one of his sentences and the next. I waited. “Actually, it might do very well,” he finally continued. “It's a tavern, rather small, but extremely charming. Run by a young woman named Leona who is”—he glanced at me—“perhaps ten years older than you.”

“And she runs a tavern on her own?” I said. “That's unusual.”

Ayler nodded. “It was her father's. He died a couple of years ago, leaving the place to her. To a point, she's been successful, but I think the work is harder than she thought—and there are a lot of taverns in Wodenderry. Hers is not always as full as she would like.”

“She might not be able to pay me anything if she doesn't have any customers,” I pointed out.

“Indeed. But I think you might be able to work out a deal with her. Some of your salary to be paid in room and board. You will be safe at Leona's as you might not be in some other parts of town, or other residences. And she need not fear that you will run off with the silver or steal from the till, because I will vouch for you. Actually, you would be doing her a kindness if you went to work for her. She needs the help of someone she can trust. And those sorts of people are sometimes rare in the royal city.”

“All right. I'll meet her,” I said. “And if I like her and she wants me, I'll stay.”

“This might work very well,” he said again.

We traveled for a few more moments in silence—although it was never entirely silent in Ayler's wagon. I had noticed that on our first day. It was the creakiest cart imaginable, the wood of its frame popping and screeching even when we passed over utterly smooth terrain. If you shifted your weight ever so minutely on the bench, the boards groaned in protest, and the wheels clattered even as they followed soft, deep ruts in dry dirt roads.

“Why is your cart so noisy?” I demanded as we squealed through a crossroads at a sedate pace.

Ayler laughed. “It's built of chatterleaf wood. Very loud. I sometimes think, even at night in the barn when the wagon's not moving at all, the boards are probably whispering and conversing with one another, making their own special racket.”

I stared at him. “Why would a Safe-Keeper build a cart from chatterleaf trees?” I asked. “Those are for Truth-Tellers.”

Ayler nodded. “I know. And for a year or two I drove through the kingdom in a cart made of kirrenberry timbers. Never mind how rough the road, that cart never made a sound. I found I did not like it. I am not used to silence.” He glanced down at me, read the surprise in my face, and smiled. “Truly, I am not.
I
am not the most talkative man, perhaps, but others are always speaking to me, telling me their stories. I find, even if it's only metal and wood, I still want to hear the voices.”

“You're the strangest man,” I commented.

Ayler gave a low laugh. “Aren't we all strange,” he countered, “in our own ways?”

We reached Wodenderry a few hours after noon on the fifth day. Never had I seen such a place! I sat rapt on the bench as Ayler negotiated the narrow streets, thick with traffic—pedestrians, solitary horses, grand carriages pulled by matched teams, humbler carts like ours. Looming over us from both sides were closely packed buildings of wood and stone, most of them two stories high. Some were beautiful, built of a dense silver-hued marble and decorated with flags and flower boxes; others were plain and mean and grimed with soot. Vendors stood on almost every corner, selling everything from bread to housewares to shoes. The noise was loud and incessant—people shouting, horses whickering, wagon wheels clanging against metal grates in the road. It was both terrifying and wonderful. I felt assaulted by energy; my mind began to hum. I wondered how anyone ever relaxed enough to fall asleep in Wodenderry.

After I had been silent for a few minutes, Ayler glanced down at me. “A little overwhelming, isn't it?” he said. “You'll grow used to it, though. You'll even find, when you leave, that you start to crave it. Wodenderry gets a hold on your senses and doesn't let go.”

“I would think you could get so lost here that no one could ever find you again.”

“You could,” Ayler agreed, “if you wanted to.” He carefully navigated his way around a wagon stopped at the side of the road. “But who wants to be lost?”

About half an hour after we had entered the city, Ayler turned down a quieter street and pulled the cart into an alley. We had come to rest beside a one-and-a-half-story structure built of gray stone, roofed with orange tile, and taking advantage of a very small square of lawn to sprout a vivid array of flowers. On the front of the building, as we had passed, I had noticed a weathered sign painted with the word
COTTLESON'S
in block letters.

“It's safe to leave the mare here for a few minutes,” Ayler said. “Let's go in and meet Leona.”

I understood the hospitality trade, so I knew we had arrived at a good time, midway between lunch and the evening hour when people would begin drifting in for a glass of ale. Even so, I noticed a few customers in place as we pushed through the thick front door and entered. The room was smaller than the dining hall at the Parmer Arms, but appealing, with dark beams set against a whitewashed ceiling, a cluster of tables arranged in the middle of the room, booths lining the two side walls, and a highly polished bar at the back. Lighting was supplied by half a dozen stained-glass windows, shaded lanterns at each table, and an array of candles behind the bar. I could smell the comforting and familiar scents of yeast, onions, meat, and ale. Not so strange in Wodenderry after all.

A door behind the bar swung open, and a young woman stepped through, bearing a tray. She was about my height and wore a plain gray gown. Her drab dress and her rather severe coiffure didn't do much to disguise the gorgeous color of her hair—a dark auburn—and her rather anxious expression could not conceal the lovely contours of her heart-shaped face. She glanced at us just enough to acknowledge our existence, then carried her burden to one of the occupied booths, where she had a short conversation with the two men sitting there. Then, wiping her hands on her apron, she approached us.

“Yes? Would you like—
Ayler
! I didn't realize it was you!” she exclaimed, and threw her arms around the Safe-Keeper. “It is so good to see you! I thought you were traveling the rest of the season.”

“And so I am, but my travels have brought me here,” Ayler replied. “I thought I would check on you since I am in Wodenderry. How is life since I saw you last?”

The woman grimaced and pushed at a lock of hair that had strayed from confinement. “Much the same, but even more hectic,” she confessed. “Jedlo quit—going back to the farm—so now I am down to just me and Sallie, and there is more
work
to be done than two women can finish in a day. Phillip comes and goes as he pleases, and is more trouble than help, frankly, and there are days I think—oh, well.” She attempted a smile. “But you did not come here just to hear my complaining. Are you hungry? When did you arrive?”

“Yes, and just now,” Ayler replied. “But let me first introduce you to a young man I have brought with me all the way from Thrush Hollow. He wanted to see the royal city, and he is feeling quite awestruck. Kellen, meet Leona Cottleson, our harried hostess. Leona, this is Kellen Carmichael.”

Leona bestowed a friendly smile on me. “I've never been to Thrush Hollow, but if it's as small as the towns where I grew up, then I understand your amazement at arriving in the city,” she said. “But I love Wodenderry now! I could not imagine living anywhere else.”

“My thought was to stay and make it my home as well,” I said, consciously using the lowest register of my voice. Still, she would think me a lad of fourteen, perhaps, beardless and slim. I would turn sixteen in a few weeks, but I knew that I seemed younger as a boy.

“And do your parents have an opinion about your moving to the royal city?” Leona asked. “Or are they no longer alive?”

“Living, but uninterested,” I replied.

She nodded, complete understanding on her face. “Mine are both dead now, but it hardly makes a difference,” she said. “Well, I miss my father.” She glanced around the tavern with affection. “He built this place, and we ran it together for several years. That was the only time I ever felt close to him.” She brought her gaze back to my face. “So what do you plan to do in Wodenderry, Kellen? I assume you're looking for work?”

“Yes. I had a job at the Parmer Arms in Thrush Hollow,” I said, answering carefully. It would not do to say,
I have been a servant girl
or
a maid.
“I worked in the kitchen and waited on customers and did the gardening or the chopping when an extra hand was needed. I also helped my mother, who ran a temporary boardinghouse. I am used to the work done at a place like yours.”

“What Kellen means is that I thought you might offer him a place,” Ayler interposed. “I know he can do the work, and I know you need the hands.”

Leona looked hopeful. “Oh, indeed I do! But—as Ayler might also have told you—I don't know how well I can pay anyone. Business has been slow—”

“As you might have surmised, Kellen has nowhere else to go,” Ayler said gently. “A bed and the promise of a few meals would almost be adequate salary.”