The Elemental Jewels (Book 1) (3 page)

“I, I came looking for you,” he stammered.

“Likewise,” the woman bit off the word.  Her answer made no sense to Grange.

“I mean, this,” Grange held up the purse as he pulled it from his pocket.  He repeated his carefully rehearsed line.  “I found it on the plaza paving stones after I saw you walk away.”

The woman’s free hand snatched the purse away from him.

“Did you look inside it?” she asked.

He couldn’t lie.  Her eyes were controlling his mind, it seemed.

“Yes,” he whispered the answer.

“Did you see her?” his interrogator asked.

The people around them were moving, surging forward towards the temple, going to make their donations after seeing the demonstration of the presence of the power of the goddess.  But the two of them were like a rock in a river bed, standing firmly still as the others had to break to the sides to go around them.

She was talking about the picture of the girl on the locket, he knew.  The girl who looked as though she was from Southgar; she looked

“Yes, I saw her,” he answered.  He remembered the picture, the light-haired girl who had almost smiled.  He could suddenly see the features more clearly than he had seen with his eyes when he had held the locket in his hand.

“Remember her,” the woman told him.  “She’s the one; remember her.”

“I will,” Grange could think of no other answer to give.

The woman released her grip on his shoulder.  “She’ll chew you up and spit you out if you’re like this when you meet her. 

“And watch out for the jewels – you’ll need them.  Toughen up.  The world is changing.”  That was her last comment; she turned and disappeared into the crowd, pressing her way against the flow of the crowd as she moved towards the center of the plaza.

As soon as she released him, he felt the pressure of the movement of the tourists around him, and he was pushed and buffeted towards the temple, dazed by the unexpected nature of the meeting, and only belatedly ready to regain control of himself.  He lowered his shoulder, and started to reverse course, working his way out of the crowd.  He was so rattled by the encounter with the dark-eyed woman that he paid scant attention to the cash and purses that the visitors carried loosely as they headed towards the temple.

Two minutes later he was out of the crush, and walking freely.  The woman had known he would come looking for her, he realized.  She had known he would look at the locket, and she had waited for him, like a spider waiting for a moth to enter its web.

“Hey, Grange!” a voice called his name, and he turned around, once again startled and unprepared, then relaxed as he saw Brevon, a friend from the streets, approaching across the plaza.

“Grange, let’s go to the festival; everyone’s going,” the boy urged as he got closer.  Brevon wrapped an arm around Grange’s shoulder and pulled him towards the eastern side of the plaza.  Grange went along, grudgingly at first, as he tried to overcome the trepidation he still felt from his inexplicable encounter with the mysterious lady.  He nearly walked into a vendor’s cart as he followed in Brevon’s wake, while his mind tried to explain what had happened.

Could the woman have been a witch, he wondered.  That would explain some of what she’d done, except there was no explanation for why she had singled him out, among the thousands of boys she could have chosen.  His Southgar heritage was his only unique feature, and she certainly could have gone to Southgar to find plenty of boys like him.

“Watch where you’re going; you don’t want to have a black eye when we get to the fest,” Brevon warned him.  “Are you okay?  You look rattled.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Grange answered, and he focused more intently on the darkening street, as the lamplighters began to touch their long-handled wicks to the scattered street lights.

Down a pair of roads and around a corner, they came to a tight open space – a small public plaza, one that was brightly lit with lanterns hung from buildings and strings.  Men and women were hanging out of all the upper floor windows that faced the square, and a band played music on one corner, while several pairs of people were dancing in front of them.  A half a dozen vendors had food and drink for sale at carts set up around the space, adding mouth-watering scents to the light and color and sound of the local people enjoying a cozy celebration.

“Look at those two girls dancing with each other.  They need a couple of guys to dance with – want to go help them?” Brevon asked.  “I think one of them is Lurinda,” he tried to wheedle Grange into going with him.  “I’ll let you have her.”

“You go on,” Grange replied, he backed up against a stretch of unclaimed wall space and leaned back, making clear that he had no intention of dancing at that moment.  “I’ll watch you from here.”

“Ah, you’re no fun,” Brevon said in disgust, then left Grange, whether to go directly to the dancing girls or to go off in search of a more engaged partner not clear.

Grange leaned against the wall.  His trembling nerves from the temple encounter were calmer now, but he had no interest in the girls of the city, as his mind seemed obsessed with the picture of the thin-faced girl in the locket.

“You look relaxed,” Garrel drifted over next to Grange, who opened his eyes at the sound of his friend’s voice.  Garrel leaned against the wall as well.

“Want to go dance with some girls?  Cordelia broke up with Frain, so she’s available.  You’ve always liked girls built like her, you say,” Garrel also sounded the note about dancing.

“You go on and dance,” Grange told his partner in crime.  “Brevon wanted someone to go with him to dance with Lurinda,” he offered information.

“Is Lurinda here?” Garrel was interested.  “Save my spot, in case I come back,” he said as he pushed away from the wall and went towards the dance floor.

It was colorful, and distracting, and entertaining.  Grange watched Garrel reach Brevon, then watched the two of them enter the dancing square, just as the band finished its number, and took a break.  The tune they had played had been a long and lively one, and based on his own experience as an itinerant instrument player, Grange imagined the musicians were ready for a chance to catch their breath.  His two friends stood crestfallen on the dancing floor as the two girls they had pursued walked away, not even aware of the boys who had approached, making Grange grin.

One of the musicians waved at Grange as the band took its break, a man he knew from the orphanage.  Grange had taken the obligatory mandatory term of music lessons at the institution, and surprised everyone by proving to be adept at playing the flute.  He’d been allowed to have extra lessons with the music teacher, who often had ignored the score of other disinterested students to concentrate on helping Grange master the technical skills of the flute.  As a result, ten minutes after returning the musician’s friendly wave in the plaza, Grange found himself among the band members, playing the flute, a replacement for an unreliable regular flute player who hadn’t shown up to join the band that evening. 

For his troubles and time as a player, he’d get to eat for free, he’d get to be close to the dance floor, closer to the girls on the dance floor, and seen by any of the girls who looked at the musicians.  He’d played in the band on a few occasions, recognized as a competent flute player by the other band members, even if he was mostly outside the established brotherhood of musicians who floated around different musical engagements in the city.

With Grange happily playing among them, the musicians played a long set of four dance tunes, and then a pair of ballads for the benefit of the other folks at the fest who didn’t want to dance, then they took a break.  Playing in the band managed to calm him down for the night, and Grange – his appetite restored – was ready to go have a hot meat pie, one with beef and mutton in it; he was hungry.

“Grange?” a voice stopped him just as he was about to approach the pie vendor.  It was Lurinda’s voice he was sure, the girl who he’d had a crush on for the past two months, though he hadn’t talked to her at all in that time.

“I didn’t know you played in the band,” she said respectfully.  Among the people his age in the city, band members were given a higher rank in society than many others.  That was one of the things that Grange liked about his occasional turns in the band; that and the fact that he simply liked music – playing well and composing melodies were satisfying in and of themselves.

“Only when they ask me,” he replied shyly.  Someone passed him, cutting into his place in the line at the vendor’s stand, as Grange turned and stepped back towards Lurinda   But he didn’t mind.  She was a lovely girl, an apprentice at a dressmaker’s shop.   She worked all day in front of a large glass window, using the sunlight to help her see the alterations and stitches she needed to make, and making herself visible to passersby.  From time to time she stood in the window and posed in new fashions, showing off the dresses and materials to the women who strolled by.

And to the boys and men who strolled by as well.  Grange was one of them.  He and many of his friends found every reason they could to walk along her shop's street multiple times each day.  He was familiar with the girl from seeing so much of her in that fashion, though they’d hardly ever talked.

“Brevon said that you didn’t want to dance with me, which made me mad, until I saw that you were playing in the band,” Lurinda was telling him he realized.

He was only halfway paying attention to her; even as he looked at her light brown hair and smooth, golden complexion; his attention took a side step, and he found he was mentally comparing her to the Southgar girl in the locket, trying to decide which was prettier.  They each were in their own ways, he decided.

“That better be the only reason we’re not dancing tonight; is it?” Lurinda boldly asked him.

Grange was astonished at how friendly the conversation was on the part of the girl.

“Absolutely,” he replied.

“Good.  Then maybe we can dance or get together some other night soon,” Lurinda told him.

“Yes.  Of course.  I can’t wait,” Grange was rapidly focusing on the conversation.  Lurinda was indicating an interest in him!

“Come see me at my shop sometime.  Do you know where I work?” the girl asked.

“I’ll find out,” he hastily tried to cover up his frequent passages past her shop.

“Good.  Have fun,” she told him, and then she turned to wander off into the crowd.

Lurinda was a beauty, and she had come to talk to him.  To him!

He turned and faced the vendor’s cart, then turned in the band member chit that entitled him to a pie.  He took a bite of the hot concoction as he walked back towards the band’s corner, and he burned his tongue.  He made a hasty line towards the fountain and took a gulp of water, while he thought about Lurinda’s invitation.  He was invited to come see her at her shop, which would make him the envy of numerous boys in the community, yet even in his moment of victory, a part of him felt detached from the joys of the victory.

He still thought about the Southgar girl in the locket.  And there was nothing enviable about that – he couldn’t brag to Brevon or Garrel about being forced to be entranced by a girl who he only knew through a tiny picture.  Yet he heard the words of the witch from the plaza – ‘she’s the one; remember her.’   They played in his mind, as did the other words – ‘she’ll chew you up.’

Grange shuddered.  He wished he could wipe the obsessive memories out of his mind, and focus on what was turning out to be a boast-worthy night.  He was playing in the band, and Lurinda had noticed.

“Would you play a fast dance?” a girl’s voice asked him as he stood thoughtfully by the water fountain, eating his pie in small bites.

Grange looked at her.  She was petite and appealing and had a warm smile, as she stood in front of a foursome of other girls much like her – they all were a darker golden color than the girls he knew, a richer color in their bronzed complexions.  They looked like girls from a better neighborhood, for their clothes and grooming were nicer than he was used to seeing among the local residents.

“I’ll ask the band,” he promised.  “But you’ll have to make sure I really see you dancing if we play for you.”

“We’ll be the first and the last ones on the floor!” she promised, and her friends all nodded vigorous agreement.  Grange smiled in approval, then walked back to the band, where the other players were already gathering to start the next set.

“The girls over there asked for a fast dance,” he told the band leader.

“You have your own followers do you?” the man laughed.  “They like your exotic looks?  Did they offer to have a drink after the music?” he asked as he looked where Grange pointed, and the girls hopped up and down in excitement.

“No,” Grange answered.  “They just want the music.”

“You go on believing that,” the leader said.  He turned to the other musicians.  “We’ll help Grange get his kisses tonight.  The first number is ‘The Dervish’,” he told them.

Grange took his position, and held his flute ready, as the drummer started the tempo.  By the fourth note the girls knew they were getting what they wanted, and they started running towards the dance floor with laughing countenances, then took up positions directly in front of Grange as they laughed and danced for the next several minutes.  At the end of the song they blew kisses to him while they giggled, then disappeared from the dance floor, while he began to play the next selection, a slower song that brought an older crowd.