The Seven Markets (5 page)

Ellie nodded again. She wiped at fresh tears on her cheeks.

“Gone long, is she?”

“Several years, yes,” Ellie said. “I’d forgotten how much I missed her.”

He reached out a hand in an awkward gesture of comfort. Suddenly Ellie couldn’t care less about his trinkets and geegaws. She wished she could sit down with him and find out where he came from, what his people were like. What he was really like, once you got past the merchant worried about breaking rules she knew nothing about.

“Have you been traveling long?” she asked.

“Seems,” he said. “Still, home goes with you, I reckon. And you get to meet interesting people and make a buck or two, so it evens out.”

“I think you’re very nice, Mister Beeswax.”

He laughed and did not correct her. “Here now, d’you have these?” he said, producing another item—it might have been a stubby black candle minus the wick or a sizable chunk of rich chocolate—from within the wagon. By the cautious way he held it, though, she decided it was neither of those things.

“Hup, nope nope. Okay, d’you have these?”

It became dark while Ellie’s back was turned. It wasn’t a long walk home for her, but Mister Beesix insisted on escorting her as far as her front door.

“Night before the Market and sniffings of wolves about. A great bear to boot. Wouldn’t sit right with my conscience if’n I let you get gobbled up alive walking home, now would it?”

She thanked him for his company and invited him to join them for supper. The short, stout man declined with a regretful shimmer in his eye.

“Wolves, I said.” He paused as if choosing his words with care. “Tell me, Ellie, when y’go to the Market tomorrow, will you go alone?”

“Alone? No, not alone.”

He nodded. “Husband?”

Ellie lifted her hand so he could see her ringless finger.

“Ah.”

“But I will be with my Joshua. May I—may I bring him to meet you?”

“Joshua,” Beesix said, tasting the name. “Is he your man?”

“He will be. He is. His father is buying us the land where your wagon sits. The old Finnegan place.” She remembered their time there the day before. Remembered the feel of his lips, the rough strength in his hands. “He will make a fine husband.”

“But not married yet?”

“Soon,” Ellie said. “Perhaps tomorrow. Papa says it’s good luck exchanging vows at the Market.”

“I’ve heard that. Yes, promises made are promises kept, when made at the Market.”

His words pleased Ellie to no end. She imagined Joshua dropping to one knee, asking for her hand in marriage. That the Market should come, that the timing should be so fortuitous, it was almost as if it were meant to happen.

“Tell me about him, your Joshua,” Beesix said.

Ellie opened her mouth to tell her new friend how handsome Joshua was, how broad his shoulders, how strong his back. Then she realized none of those things were who Joshua was. None of those things were the reason her heart quickened whenever he was near. Oh, they were good things—didn’t her knees wobble just the tiniest bit, thinking about him now?—but they weren’t the important things. If Joshua’s face was scarred working the farm, if the corded firmness fled from his muscles, would she love him any the less?

“He’s terribly kind,” she said, speaking without realizing which words were going to come out. “Most people don’t see it, because he’s so—well, they don’t see it. He smiles and makes every man his brother. He’d pull your wagon out of a pool of mud, single-handedly if necessary. He’d give you the clothes off his back and the last coin from his purse.”

Beesix smiled; Ellie thought it looked false, like a child’s paper mask.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you love him. And love paints the world many colors.”

“Joshua Bullock,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush in anger. “Is a fine man.”

She thought he might apologize. Instead the little man shook his head, almost as if scolding himself. “Course he is,” Beesix said. “Tell me, how’d you two meet?”

“Meet?” It was the oddest question he could have asked. “I don’t know. We’ve—we’ve both lived in the village all our lives. His family on one side, my family on the other. I have no idea when the first time was we met.”

“Love, then,” Beesix said, a warm smile peeking out from behind his fiery whiskers. “Tell me how y’fell in love.”

If Mama had asked her this, Ellie would have blushed and changed the subject. Papa, of course, would never ask such a personal question; if he had, Ellie might have fled the room in embarrassment.

“Love,” she said, surprised to hear herself speaking. “I don’t know if that’s how it works. How did we fall in love? Slowly. We got to know each other, and now I can’t imagine
not
loving Joshua Bullock.”

Ellie waited to see what he’d say to that. He crossed his arms and nodded his head, as if telling her to continue.

“I told you we grew up together,” she said at last. “And that’s true. Our families were not close—if we played together as children, it was in town, or along with other children. For much of my life Joshua was as much a part of Oberton as Tanner’s Goods or the stone bridge leading east out of town.”

“Not childhood sweethearts then?”

Ellie laughed. “Hardly. He was a boy from outside town, nothing more. Not to say there was anything…wrong with Joshua. He was, well, inoffensive. Almost part of the landscape. He was Aaron Bullock’s son. Tell me, have you ever lived in a town like ours?”

“I’ve visited more than my share.”

“It’s not the same,” she said. “Visiting as opposed to living there, is what I mean. When winter falls, if a family wasn’t able to stock its larders for the long cold, the rest of us will help out. There’s a community here you might not see in big cities. Still, that kind of closeness creates a sort of distance, too. You know everyone, but in knowing them, you might also keep them at arm’s length.”

Beesix appeared to consider this point a moment. He patted his pockets as if searching for something, perhaps she’d reminded him of home, or of his family, but gave up after a short time.

“Joshua was part of my life, but not a part I ever gave much thought to. If his family picked up stakes and moved away one day, I doubt I’d have given his absence—their absence—much thought at all.”

“Something changed,” Beesix said.

“It…I suppose something did change. I noticed Joshua. Does that sound terrible? Do you find me awful? I noticed him. Or he noticed me. I think it might be the latter, now that I say it out loud. After all, it was him that came up to talk to me.”

She closed her eyes, remembering the day. It had been warm. She remembered that because the night had been so frigid. The calendar said it was spring, inching into summer, but Ellie’s bed was still piled high with blankets.

“Papa was traveling,” she said. “And Mama had her own business on the other side of town. She does some healing, helps people with small charms, that sort of thing. So I had an afternoon to myself. I offered to accompany my mama, but she told me to enjoy the pretty day. That was what did it, I think, when she reminded me how pretty the day was.”

Ellie’s hand drifted to her bag, but did not delve inside.

“I fixed a small lunch and took my drawing pad. I draw a little. Sketches mostly.” In a hurried breath, she added: “Nothing special, I’m not very good, of course.

“Joshua came upon me out by the old Miller place, trying to sketch a piece of their fence that had come down that winter, and which they hadn’t gotten around to repairing yet. Grass and flowers had sprung up between the fence posts, poking up like rabbits searching the landscape for hungry foxes.

“I was on the opposite side of the street, my lunch gone, my bag open on the ground. I was sitting on a flat stone, engrossed in my drawing.”

“‘Hullo, Ellie,’ he said, crossing the road to me.”

“I looked up. Do you know it took me a second to recognize him? How silly that must sound now, but it’s the truth. I saw him, and knew I knew him, but I had no idea what his name was. ‘Good afternoon, Joshua,’ I said, plucking his name out of my mind like a berry.”

“‘How are you?’ he said. Just like that. Very formal. Then I watched his eyes move from my face down to my lap. Down the drawing pad resting in my lap, I should say. ‘Are you drawing?’ he said.”

“I told him I was, and indicated the broken section of fence.”

“‘I didn’t know you drew,’ he said.

Ellie shrugged her shoulders. “He sat down and asked to see my drawing. It wasn’t very good—it wasn’t good at all, I think—but he just seemed so fascinated to learn something new about me. Before I knew it, the afternoon had slipped away from us. Joshua was late getting back home—he’d been to the Millers’ delivering goods for his father, saving him a trip in the cart—and Mama was likely wondering if I’d wandered off and forgotten the way home.

“A few days later, I ran into him in town. Instead of exchanging the usual pleasantries, we stopped and talked. He asked me if I’d been drawing. We spoke for a quarter of an hour before remembering ourselves.”

“And then it continued,” Beesix said.

“Yes. It wasn’t long before we were coordinating our visits to town. ‘When will your mother send you for errands?’ he’d ask. ‘Tuesday next,’ I’d answer.”

“And now you’re to be married.”

“Engaged,” she said, correcting him.

“Engaged, yes. Tomorrow?”

“Papa thinks so. I hope so.”

Beesix nodded his head as if agreeing with Ellie. “I ought to be getting back,” he said. “Market day tomorrow. Big day. Lots to do. Stop by and say hello. Bring your fella and we’ll dazzle him with a little shiny off the bottom shelf.”

“I will. Definitely.”

She thought he’d leave then, but he remained where he was.

“Sir?”

“We initially spoke of payment,” he said. “I know you said it was unnecessary, but fair is fair and at the Market a deal is a deal, even when y’show up a couple days early.”

Ellie wanted to tell him
oh no, that’s fine,
but curiosity kept her lips sealed tight. She nodded in acknowledgment; it was all she could manage.

“I can’t be selling them anyway—wrong time, wrong place—but there’s no rules against giving gifts, least not so’s far as I’ve ever heard.” She watched him dig into a deep coat pocket. “Just the same, let’s not make a fuss, shall we? Rules is rules and sometimes they just change one and don’t bother telling anyone. Still, gifts and such.”

He stepped toward here and Ellie realized she was holding her breath. He opened her hands and placed something small and cold in them.

“Thanks, an’ such,” he said.

Ellie looked down and recognized the chimeglass at once.

“And do stop by tomorrow. Might be tricky finding your way, but I’ll be right where you left me and that’s a promise.”

He sniffed the air, giving Ellie the impression he was searching for the scent of wolves or bears. Satisfied the night was safe, Mister Beesix turned and headed back to the road, to the Finnegan farm and to his wagon. It was dark enough that after he’d taken a dozen steps Ellie could find no trace of him at all. She sat on the stoop, where she’d talked with her father the previous night, and listened to the chimeglass a while before remembering herself. She wiped away her tears and went inside for dinner.

Ellie fell asleep remembering old stories.

She dreamed of trapped princesses and valiant princes; of ferocious, fire-belching dragons and splendid golden unicorns; of magical beanstalks which led to bellowing giants; of fabulous treasures, wish-granting genies, pixies and fairies and satyrs and sailing ships and desert caravans and gleaming steel towers that split the sky and cast impossible shadows the entire length of the land.

And, of course, of the Market.

A familiar voice recited the old catechism:
once in a century, for three days only, the Market will come.

Another voice, the one she saved only for herself, asked:
do the three days always come together, Papa?

A hearty laugh, a warm feeling of security.
Perhaps. With the Market, anything is possible, or so I’ve heard it said.

Her voice, high and young but still unmistakably hers, said:
it wouldn’t make much sense to split it up. Better all at once, I think.
She heard a tinge of doubt and remembered thinking,
if it was split up, though, it’d seem to last longer, wouldn’t it?

The younger Ellie shifted her feet. Through the veil of night the older Ellie was aware of kicking her bedsheets away. It was warm and her room was stifling. A distant part of her considered rising and letting in some air, but the dream held her and she did not want to risk slipping from its grasp.

Three days only, and ten days would not be enough to see it all. Dream a thing and it will be at the Market. Imagine a taste and you can sample it at the Market. Wish for your heart’s desire and find it made real at the Market.

Young Ellie thought then of her favorite cookies and cakes. She thought of her favorite doll, who shared her pillow every night. What if she brought Janey to the Market and she came to life? Why, it would be just like having a baby sister!

The dream began fading, Papa’s words turning first into echoes and then into the shadows of echoes. Her eyelids grew heavy and she understood she was falling asleep. Falling asleep within the dream, as she had fallen asleep listening to her father’s stories as a girl.

Ellie slept and did not dream. And when she woke, it was morning and the Market had come to the village of Oberton.

Ellie counted three suns blazing in the sky. They were too high for the early hour and monstrous compared to her expectations of what a sun should be. The rightmost sun, whose face was the jelly red of fresh blood, seemed close enough to touch.

“Joshua,” she said, feeling for his hand. “Do you see?”

“I do. But I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

She stepped away from him, reaching out to the sky. She could imagine plucking one of those suns down and dropping it into her purse. A souvenir of their visit to the Market. The idea was so reasonable, so obvious, she was surprised when it didn’t work. Ashamed and feeling deeply silly, Ellie turned back and found Joshua had stepped up to join her. His arms were outstretched, his fingers grasping at the center sun, the smallest, which burned a fierce white beside its siblings.