“Oh, thank you so much. If she was closer, would she have been clearer?”
“You could not see her clearly? Discern her features?”
“No, she just looked like a shadow to me.”
The collier grunted. “Little matter,” he said after a time. “Are you ready now to help sort?”
“Ready and willing,” Daniel said with a smile.
They worked in silence. During one of their breaks towards noon, the collier’s wife arrived. She was leading a horse and cart and seemed, to Daniel, to be fairly old, with grey hair and a graciously wrinkled face. But her eyes and skin gleamed with a youthful sheen, her movements quick and graceful. She was willow-thin, and dressed in a bodice and skirt made up of many different layers of thin, coloured cloth. Her hair was braided around the crown in a crescent shape and cascaded down her back to her waist. As the sunlight filtered into the clearing, Daniel thought it almost glowed.
“Hello, husband,” she said, dropping the horse’s rein and dashing up to him. He gathered her in his long, knotty arms and held her close. “I’ve missed you.”
The collier’s wife’s eyes then swept over Daniel. “Who is your new helper?” she asked.
“I do not know his name,” the collier said, “but I have known him to be a good worker this past ten day. The young Marrey lad sent him.”
“Tch!” the woman said in a chiding tone, still looking at Daniel.
“Imagine not knowing a fellow worker’s name in all that time. But that’s my K?yle.”
Daniel shot the collier-K?yle-an inquisitive look.
“And you haven’t told him yours it seems. I’ll never understand men, though I live to be a hundred thousand. My name is Pettyl,” she said, giving a slight curtsey.
“I’m Daniel.” He explained where he had come from and that he was trying to get back.
“So,” Pettyl said when he had finished, “why don’t you two work a spell longer, and I’ll fix lunch.”
Daniel and K?yle returned to the first pile and continued sifting and sorting into the barrels. Lunch for Daniel was the food that Pettyl had brought with her-fresh fruits and nuts that Daniel had never seen before. He tried not to eat too much too quickly and stopped when he felt his stomach start to ache. The fruit he enjoyed most was purple and curved like a banana but wider and flatter with a thin skin that could be eaten and soft, juicy flesh, like a grapefruit. He thanked Pettyl profusely afterwards.
They toiled late into the evening and with Pettyl’s help they managed to finish packing the charcoal. K?yle announced that they would depart for the market at the break of the next day.
Daniel ate a hearty supper of more fruits and nuts and fell asleep with the satisfaction of a hard job finished.
He awoke the next morning, aching as he always did since coming to Elfland, but still exhausted, unrefreshed by his sleep- which was odd, since he had slept the entire night through.
The horses had already been hitched to Pettyl’s cart, which was larger than the one the collier used for moving wood around, and, K?yle had loaded the barrels of charcoal, stacking them two high, lashing them to the sides of the cart with rope.
The sky was still not fully bright when they were ready to start off. K?yle and Pettyl sat in the front of the cart on the driving seat; Daniel made a place next to the provisions box and atop the bundle of cloth that would become their trade tent. When everyone was settled, K?yle announced, “I will ask the forest for a good road to the market.”
K?yle faced the forest and began to sing.
It was a song with no words, or at least none that Daniel understood. It started low in K?yle’s chest and grew into a reverberation that came from nowhere and everywhere. Then his call began to rise and fall in soaring major notes and falling minors, before eventually settling into a repetitious melody. The trees before K?yle swayed and shifted, making way for the cart in a way that made Daniel’s head spin-they seemed to be moving, but not moving, like they were shifting place into somewhere they had always been. Finally the tune began to break down, devolving into disparate notes and phrases that were common to the piece. And then it was over.
Dumb with awe, Daniel leaned back against a barrel as K?yle took his seat and with a snap of the reins, the cart jerked off. It felt as if his insides were still quivering like chords on a harp that still held their notes. Daniel remained in this dream-like state for a long time into their journey before realising that the road that was stretching out behind him was very wide, level, and straight. It must have been a pretty good song.
2
Freya woke up with a queasy feeling in her stomach. Her body, evidently realising that she was awake, hit her with a full blast of nausea. Alarmed, she swung herself out of bed and lurched to the toilet, where she was immediately sick. She caressed her swollen belly as she spat into the bowl and wiped the corners of her mouth with a couple squares of toilet paper.
She couldn’t help glancing as she flushed-why was there always so little? What was her body doing, throwing up what wasn’t there to throw up?
She grabbed her dressing gown, leaving it undone, of course- she hadn’t been able to draw it together for a couple weeks now-and padded into the kitchen.
“Hello, sweetie,” Felix said. He was seated at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in his hand, the morning paper spread in front of him. A welcome and comforting stereotype, she thought. She smiled at him and went to the refrigerator.
“Do we have bacon? I feel like bacon, toast-no, a bagel if we’ve got one-marmalade, and . . . mustard. Lots of mustard, with the bacon, obviously. Dijon, preferably.”
Felix chuckled. “Okay, my little gastronome, have a seat. I’ll whip you up something.”
Freya lowered herself into one of their kitchen chairs, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “I heard you in there,” Felix said as strips of bacon hissed in the frying pan. “How are you feeling today?”
“About average. This coffee’s helping.”
“I hope you’re not drinking it-you’ll get one of your headaches.”
“No, I just like the smell.” She spent a few moments in thought.
“Do I have an appointment today?”
“Yes, you do. Leigh was kind enough to offer to take you, remember?”
“That’s right . . .”
“In fact-” Felix glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh dear,” he said gravely. “You’re running late. I let you oversleep. I’m sorry.
Quick, go get changed and I’ll have this ready for you when you’re done.”
Sighing, Freya hoisted herself up. As she passed the kitchen counter, she reached a hand out to take a scrap of bacon but received a slap on the wrist instead.
“Naughty,” Felix said with a grin.
Stomach growling angrily, Freya went back into their bedroom and dressed, putting on the minimum of makeup. There was a knock on the door just as she was finishing her eyeliner. She heard Felix open it and the murmur of voices greeting each other.
“Freya . . . ?”
“Coming!” Freya shouted. She stood straight and looked at herself in the mirror. When did she become so old?
As she bustled down the hallway, a wave of dizziness hit her. She slowed as she reached the doorway and put a hand against the wall to steady herself.
“Are you okay?” Stowe asked.
“I’m fine, just stood up too fast, that’s all. Hello, Leigh. You look lovely, as ever.”
“Thank you. Well, we’d better get moving.”
“I’ll see you this evening, my love,” Felix said, giving her a peck on the cheek as he helped her into her coat.
“Okay, bye.”
It was only as Freya was getting into Leigh Sinton’s car that she realised she hadn’t had anything to eat.
“Don’t worry, dear,” the older woman said. “We can pick something up on the way back. It’s been awhile since we had a good chat. How are you coming on Brize Norton’s Commentaries to the Names of the Guardians, by the way?”