Of course other members of our group had skills and talents, and we put on shows as well. Aunt Miriam and I could sing. Even at eleven, Mariah could dance beautifully. Something about the way she moved was mesmerizing. Mikolai and Micah could both play the violin, sometimes staging dueling duets, and my father was astonishing at card and magic tricks—which he mainly used as entertainment as opposed to fleecing people out of their money. We’d put out hats and people would toss in coins.
But my mother was the one people came to see, and she earned the lion’s share of our income.
In addition, she was wise and careful with money, and she kept the family accounts. We would all work the fair for the last month of autumn, and then she’d take the earnings and find good bargains on supplies: food, bolts of cloth, thread, paint for the wagons, herbal medicines, grain for the horses, new tools . . . anything we might need. Even after, she always ended up with a surplus of coins.
Once the fair was over, and we were well supplied, we’d head east to our winter destination: Belfleur Keep.
When I was just a girl, a lord named Camden had fallen under my mother’s spell, and he’d invited us to spend the winter in the courtyard of his keep. He was unmarried, but he loved to entertain friends and family in the winter months, so he often had numerous guests.
We went to serve as entertainment, and this became a tradition.
Every winter, we’d roll into the courtyard, and Lord Camden would welcome my mother like a lost jewel, kissing her hands with moisture in his eyes. He stabled our horses and let us all eat from his kitchens. We lived in our wagons, but if the weather grew too cold, we were allowed to come into the keep and sleep in the great hall by the fire.
As payment, my mother would spend many evenings doing readings for his guests after dinner. Her mere presence always meant he had people coming and going, and he was never lonely in those long, cold months. The rest of us worked, too, singing and dancing and playing music and performing magic. Mariah had never known what it was like to be cold or hungry in the winter, and I had only a few vague memories from childhood.
But again, I’d always understood that our welcome and our comfortable, safe winters at Belfleur Keep were all due to my mother. It never occurred to me that this realization had not dawned on my father or Aunt Miriam.
Not until after my mother was already dead.
The Descent
The first sign of trouble came swiftly. Aunt Miriam went to speak with Master Deandre, to tell him of our tragedy and to gain permission to begin setting up in our usual spot outside the west gate.
He expressed sorrow over the death of my mother, and he offered Aunt Miriam sincere condolences, which she accepted. But then . . . he told her that we could not set up just yet, as there had been a few delays with preparations for the fair.
He came to us that night and related, with deep regret, that he’d already allotted our spot to another group of Móndyalítko from the line of Renéive, who were traveling with a Mist-Torn seer. He said the city had already made this decision before our arrival in order to alternate the entertainment nearest the front gate—to keep it fresh.
I knew he was lying.
Father and Aunt Miriam were dumbfounded when we were shown our new location at the outskirts of the fair among the wagons of shabbier Móndyalítko and farmers selling old apples to those who could not afford better.
“What are we going to do?” I asked my father again.
He shook his head in confusion. “Do? We’ll do what we do every year. We’ll stage shows and put our hats out for coins.”
I wanted to clench my fists. He still didn’t understand.
Aunt Miriam took over as head of the family—as was her place—but she was not my mother. The elders in our group had long since grown complacent without realizing it. In fairness, my father, Aunt Miriam, and Uncle Landrien did attempt to organize some shows for us to perform, but on the outskirts of the fair, almost no one saw us, and no one had any money to toss into our hats.
Then . . . Aunt Miriam announced that we would walk farther inside the fair and perform where there were more people.
So we did.
Unfortunately, the arrangement of the Móndyalítko families and wagons had been carefully orchestrated, and after receiving a few complaints, Master Deandre visited to politely ask us to perform only in the area where we’d been placed.
Several of Shawn’s boys were put in charge of the horses and our cow. When we ran out of grain, they began leading the animals out anywhere grass might be found. Eight horses and a cow required a good deal of grass.
By midmonth, we were spending the few coins we earned on food for immediate use, and I had a terrible feeling that very little was being saved. By the end of the month, we were living on boiled oats for breakfast, nothing for lunch, and eggs from our own chickens for dinner . . . and we had little to feed the chickens. Our cow did provide us with some milk, but she was growing older.
Poor Mariah was so confused and lost. She’d never suffered hardship, and she missed our mother so much. I tried to give her what comfort I could.
There was no one to give me comfort.
As the fair ended, it was finally time to head east for the winter, to Belfleur Keep. Mariah was so happy, she clung to me.
“I can’t wait to eat warm bread and sausages in the keep’s kitchen again,” she said. “And to sit by the fire in the hall and to play with Lord Camden’s dogs.”
I smiled and nodded and held her close. My beautiful little sister. I did not want to voice my fears and spoil her happiness. Though I had a bad feeling about what was coming, I convinced myself that I could be wrong.
We left Kéonsk with few supplies and no grain for the horses.
The journey east took us just over a week. Out on the road, it was safe to send Marcus hunting at night, and he kept us supplied with rabbits and pheasants, but feeding twenty people was no easy task for him, and we all grew accustomed to small portions.
When we finally rolled up to Belfleur Keep, I could see the stark relief in both my father and Aunt Miriam. I knew they were both shaken by our change in circumstances at the Autumn Fair, and they were desperate for Lord Camden’s hospitality.
Aunt Miriam now drove in the lead of our group, and she led the way to the south side of the courtyard, where we had wintered for the past thirteen years. We all climbed down to stretch our legs and begin setting up. Shawn’s boys had not even begun unharnessing the horses when Lord Camden emerged from the keep, coming out to greet us. A collection of small spaniels ran around his feet, and Mariah’s face broke into a smile at the sight of them, but I held her back.
“Wait,” I said. “Aunt Miriam needs to speak to him first.”
My aunt glanced at me, and then she headed across the courtyard to intercept Lord Camden. I could see his face from where I stood, and he frowned slightly at the sight of her coming toward him. He began casting his gaze around, and I knew whom he sought: my mother.
Aunt Miriam went to him and began speaking softly. I could see only her back, but she was using her hands as she spoke. Lord Camden’s face froze, and he staggered backward. I thought he might fall. Aunt Miriam reached out for him, speaking faster. I couldn’t hear her exact words, but I could hear her rushed voice.
Lord Camden looked ill and appeared to be trying to get control of himself. He breathed deeply a few times. Then he shook his head and said something that made her entire body stiffen. Aunt Miriam’s voice rose, and I knew that was a mistake. My mother would never have raised her voice. She would have charmed him. I did not inherit her ability to charm, but I had seen it in action many times.