Chapter 7
(Plot 6)The steady light drizzle quickly chilled Calufray’s bones as his own world transitioned from flowing iridescent wisps to the solid, colorful reality he knew. There was the same familiar mountain he had called home once, but it was a new hamlet that greeted him.
The magical eagle circled Cadfel Cove, granting Calufray a commanding view of the new pier that had been built over the ring of stones and what he assumed was Master Folger’s ship docked to it. The clipper had its sails bound, its anchor away, and a trail of shiphands hauling goods to the shore where another trail of souls—the hamlet-folk themselves—carried them off to the hamlet. From up here the whole operation made Calufray think of a trail of industrious ants invading a model ship for morsels of food.
All of this could not have happened in a day or two; something about the other world he had traveled through on the back of the magical eagle must have distorted time for him, somehow. The dock was one thing, but a large swath of trees near the beach had been cleared away and the newly-built depot that sat in its place told him he had been gone for several weeks, at least. Calufray was uncertain about the exact details, but he suspected that Nizhoni had indeed beaten him back this time. Such a delay might also explain how Nizhoni had arrived at Obeliskdale so quickly, from Calufray’s perspective.
With a thought, the eagle soared high over the hamlet; Calufray wanted to see how the people fared. While he was too high up to distinguish faces, he could see that the sheltered hand-mill had been rebuilt beside the bakery, and a halfling woman carrying a white sack over her shoulder was walking from the mill to the bakery’s back door. That would be Tonya. White smoke billowed from the bakery chimney, and all the way up here Calufray could smell the baking of not just bread, but sweet pastries.
So, Nizhoni’s contract had ensured Cadfelham was fed. Calufray swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. No matter his qualms with the siren, he had brought the hamlet back from where Calufray had foolishly sent it when he had tried to placate Chang.
Chang. Calufray remembered the merrow woman he had once loved—even briefly—with a mingle of hatred and the memory of affection. The sensation was all too similar to the way he felt about Nizhoni now; a complicated tangle of positive and negative emotions gripped his gut. He had to find Nizhoni and discover what he could about the state of things before he would do anything else. He would need a disguise…
The magical eagle landed high up the mountain, near the astronomer’s hut. Upon dismounting, Calufray watched as the eagle dissipated into ribbons of iridescent light, and in a moment had vanished entirely. Calufray turned to the hut and knocked on the door…
Meanwhile, down in the hamlet, Tonya lifted the corner of the cloth from her basket and smelled underneath. She smiled; the pastries were still warm, and the turnovers cast the exotic scent of apple over her shoulder as she approached the sheriff’s quarters. The apples had been a rare and welcome addition to her stores, and she thought Nizhoni would like to taste the first batch out of the over. After all, he had secured the hamlet’s well-being. She spun her waxed parasol, sending little droplets flying in a circle all around her. She hadn’t felt this joyful since before Calufray left.
She peered into the glass windows of the newly-restored homes as she passed. Mothers and fathers were eating meals together at simple tables brought by Master Folger’s ships. She and the other hamlet-folk hadn’t any idea how Nizhoni had managed it, but he had been right about one thing: with bellies full of sweets made with Master Folger’s wheat and sugar, the children hadn’t missed visiting the fairy ring down at Cadfel Cove lately.
Tonya reached the sheriff’s quarters at last. After straightening her apron and smoothing her hair, she knocked on the door. No answer came. Her brows bunched in the middle with curiosity. When she tested the handle and found it open, she let herself in, folding her parasol and leaving it at the door.
The sheriff’s quarters was abuzz with revelry. Master Folger craned his long white feathered neck above the crowd and wobbily raised a glass full of pale amber. The crowd quieted.
“To Nizhoni! May he and Cadfelham prosper for many years to come!” The crowd cheered. Tonya smiled. “And to Allira, the regent of yet another island in the Siren’s Sea!”
“Hear, hear!” The crowd shouted, and glasses clinked, and drinks were gulped.
Tonya’s veins turned to ice. Only after she looked around did she realize that the crowd was mostly made up of Master Folger’s higher-ranking officers.
“I have the people to thank, really,” came Nizhoni’s sloshy, high, hoarse voice from the back of the room. Tonya shouldered her way past the officers and pushed to the front of the crowd, where Nizhoni rocked back haphazardly in the sheriff’s chair. “If it were not for their misfortune, I would not have found myself in the enviable position of being the new hamlet planner, interim sheriff—” He paused to lean in dramatically toward the crowd, but got louder instead of quieter. “—and soon-to-be baron of an entire island!”
“Baron Nizhoni!” the crowd cheered. “Baron Ni—”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” The room fell quiet as Tonya stood red-faced and livid, her hands shaking with rage. She hauled back her basket and threw it right into Nizhoni’s face, sending pastries and apple turnovers in all directions. Master Folger winced as one splatted over his face. His drink fell from his hand and smashed on the floor.
The room fell silent. Dull-eyed officers gawked stupidly, some frozen mid-gulp.
“How dare you profit from the suffering of our people,” Tonya declared, the picture of virtuous indignation. Her hands tightened into fists and her breath came in sharp exhales. When Nizhoni could do nothing but stare back at her—mute from guilt, or drink, or both—she turned on her heel and stomped back the way she had come, the room full of officers falling over themselves to get out of her way.
Tonya was outside in the drizzle for several moments before she remembered her waxed parasol. Before she could turn, however, it had opened over her head, held aloft by a large man wearing a tarp as a makeshift cloak and hood, drawn long over his face.
Mystified, Tonya took her parasol from the stranger. “Thank you, sir.” She moved to see the face of the man, but his hand pulled the tarp a little further.
“What news?” came a low, dead voice from underneath the tarp. “You seem upset.”
Tonya scanned what was visible of the man’s clothes. He wore the garb of the local astronomer, but it was perhaps a size too small for him. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Er…” The man seemed to invent something on the spot. “The astronomer’s apprentice. Just came in on Master Folger’s clipper. Part of the contract.”
Tonya eyed the man suspiciously. “What do you mean, ‘contract’?”
The ‘apprentice’ coughed and waved a big hand vaguely. “Oh, I overheard Master Folger say something about it. Part of the deal for all the goods.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “Here to help.”
Tonya looked the man over from head to toe. Rolling her eyes, she gripped the tarp with her free hand and pulled hard. Calufray’s face was suddenly exposed beneath. “Calufray!” Tonya blurted.
Trying as he might to catch the hem of the tarp, he quickly conceded that his cover was blown. He gathered the folds back around his face, leaving them open enough for them to converse. “How did you know it was me?” he asked.
“I know you’ve tried to hide that knob on the back of your neck ever since we were kids, Calufray,” she replied. “You can’t hide from me. What are you doing here?”
“I don’t want any trouble,” he assured her. “I’m just here to…” He gripped the Pitcher on his belt. “...sort some things out with Nizhoni.”
“After me, you will,” Tonya snapped in a low whisper. “He’s set himself up as the baron of the island. Something about a deal with some Allira person.”
“Allira,” said Calufray knowingly. “She’s the manager of Tin Obeliskdale, where Nizhoni made the contract. If he’s going to be baron, Allira must be setting herself up to rule this place. I can’t let that happen.”
“We can’t let it happen,” said Tonya, exasperated, “but, Calufray, if its a contract what can be done? Is there any getting out of it?”
Calufray’s eyes darted around as if to search for the answer on the ground outside the sheriff’s quarters. His eyes focused at last, fixing on a single point. His fingers passed over the glossy surface of the Pitcher.
“This,” he said, holding the Pitcher in front of Tonya’s face like a self-evident solution. “When Nizhoni signed the contract, he included this pitcher as payment. But it wasn’t his to trade; it was my mother’s. In Obeliskdale, if you pay with stolen goods the contract is void. Now all we have to do is prove that he stole it…”
“We were all there that day,” said Tonya. “There were plenty of witnesses when you two had your row.” Tonya laid a small hand on Calufray’s arm, a determined look in her eyes. “We’ll all swear Nizhoni took your pitcher from you, I’ll make sure of it.”
“Tonya,” said Calufray, catching her arm before she could leave. “Thank you. I only want to do right by the hamlet. You have no idea how badly I feel. I’ve done things that—”
Tonya placed a small hand on Calufray’s cheek. “Say no more, Calufray. You’re here, now. No matter what you’ve done in the past, what you’re doing now is more important.”
“But Tonya, you don’t know what—”
“I’ll be back,” she said. “Keep him busy.” And she dashed off into the chilly drizzle, huddling under her waxed parasol as she went.
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